Chapter 4

Julia rode her bicycle to Mrs. Lassiter's house. The old woman lived alone and needed some help. Julia arrived early in the day, helped her get up and dressed, served her breakfast and made sure she was comfortably settled in for the day near the window that looked out on the ocean. She'd spend the day in her chair, reading, knitting, watching some television or just looking at the beach and ocean.

Julia came back in the early evening, got dinner for the woman, then helped her get ready for bed and made sure she was settled in with a book and her TV remote, before leaving.

With House helping out at the bar, it freed up some extra time for Julia. Now she could help Mrs. Lassiter, get to the bar and work, then still do a few errands before returning to help the woman in the evening.

It wasn't that she wanted free time, she actually hated free time, too much time to think.

But there were some other people she'd been wanting to help and this would give her the freedom to do it.

When House arrived at the bar, it was only a few minutes past three.

Julia raised an eyebrow. 'You're early. I told you four."

"Figured you'd need some time to show me the ropes." Actually, he'd been bored to tears and decided to head over earlier than planned.

"There isn't that much to show you. Here's the bar, the beer is in this cooler, the bottles are on the shelf, glasses down here. If anyone wants something to eat, the food is there. Usually a pot of chili is in the crock pot, there's bread, meat and fish right there. But people don't eat much here, so that's not a problem."

"Not even the people who get a free sandwich with every three drinks?" He said with a smirk.

She smiled, then came out from behind the bar, handed him the apron.

"I'll hang around for a bit, see how you do and if you need anything."

He went behind the bar, but dropped the apron on a stool on the way. He saw that she had put a tall stool back there for him. He knew it hadn't been there before.

She waited and gave him some advice, but being a smart guy and the bar being almost empty, it didn't take long for him to catch on.

At the end of his shift at the bar, he went to the piano and began playing. There were a few more people in the bar at night, even some tourists. They seemed to enjoy the music and even gave him some tips.

It was strange to work like that, but the piano helped to relax and renew him, so it really didn't matter if anyone paid him for that.

At the end of the week, Tom handed him fifty dollars. House looked at the money, then said, "This is a week's pay?"

"If I'm not mistaken, you have a place to live and food as well."

It was true that Julia made him coffee each morning and he'd come home that first day to find the small refrigerator and the cabinet in the cabin stocked with food. He'd also found cooked food on the little stove that just had to be put in the microwave. There was also a sandwich made for the next day.

He'd supposed that Julia had done all that. She had access to all the cabins. He saw her entering them with cleaning supplies. She did his too while he was out. He'd come home to a clean bathroom and his bed made.

So in the long run, he realized that it would cost a hell of a lot more to pay for a place to stay and food. And he hadn't worked very hard at the bar, not to mention the tips he'd received.

"Right." He told Tom, as he pocketed the money. "Thanks."

Over the next week or so, House got used to the routine. He would wake up early enough to share coffee with Julia. No talking, just contemplating the ocean. Then she would go off to her many chores and he would go back to his cabin, eat something and take a nap before his shift. He'd eat the lunch she'd left for him, then head over to the bar. Some nights he played the piano, some nights he just went home.

Tom didn't really care when he played, as long as he did it on Saturday when more people went out. Word of mouth spread about the new piano player and more people wandered in to the bar for a drink.

The routine was fine, certainly not taxing, and even if it was a little boring, still, it was better than the alternative. He had a feeling he'd be worse than bored in jail.

The only thing was that he still hadn't figured Julia out. He was afraid that the slow pace on the island had affected his deduction skills.

A few days after he began working for Tom, they were having their coffee, when he suddenly looked at her and said, "So, I was wondering why you gave me the cabin right next to yours."

"Not a mystery. I didn't want either of us to have to walk very far if you needed anything."

"Or you didn't want us walking far if we wanted to have sex."

Without looking at him, she said, "No, that wouldn't be the reason, since I have no intention of having sex with you."

"Already doing someone else?"

"No, I'm just not interested."

"Everyone's interested in sex."

"Not me."

"Are you a nun?"

She chuckled. "No, definitely not."

"Ah, so you're a hooker and you've given up the life. That's why you…"

"No, I'm not a hooker. Look, Greg, I appreciate the offer, but I am really not interested. That part of my life is over."

"But how could you…"

"You're an attractive man and there are other women on this island that I'm sure would be happy to accommodate you."

"You find me attractive."

"No, I said you're an attractive man. It's not the same thing."

"It kinda is."

She got up. "Sorry, the answer's no."

She walked away from him.

He knew he had to crack her shell, find out her secret and, as a bonus, get into her bed. He sat back with smug determination.

He soon came to know some of the locals. There were the men and women who worked at the cannery who came to the bar around five each evening when their shifts were done. They'd have a few beers, then head to their homes.

There were one or two old guys who spent the afternoon in the bar, playing checkers or cards while they sipped their whiskeys. They always greeted him with a hale hello and gave him a decent tip when they got their drinks.

On Friday or Saturday nights, some couples came in for a few drinks and once the word got around that there was a new piano player at the bar, more did and they'd sit with drinks, requesting songs and sometimes even dancing.

Tom seemed to enjoy seeing that. He didn't seem to care about how much money he made, just about how much fun the people were having.

The occasional tourists came in at night, but they usually didn't stay long at Tom's when they realized it wasn't a flashy, tourist type bar. Not that there was anything really flashy about San Paolo.

He took some time to explore the island, driving around a bit in the golf cart. Most people used them, as the island was small and the roads weren't great. There were a few small cars, and one gas station, but they weren't out that often.

The business section of the island was a small strip of buildings which were loosely gathered together. Tom's was at the end of the group, closest to the ocean. The other buildings consisted of a small grocery store, which also supplied hardware; a clothing store, selling new and used items; and drug store which provided first aid as well, since there was no doctor on the island. The only nice restaurant was also part of this group. There were a few empty buildings as well.

Not far from this strip were the three main motels, one of which being the one House had been staying at. Near them were a few scattered stores that were rarely open.

About a quarter mile away from this "metropolis" were the cabins where Julia and House lived, along with about a half dozen others that were empty. The best thing about them is that they were near the ocean and the view was spectacular.

As Julia had said, he soon found out that most of the people living here were running away from something. Some had simple stories of lost loves that they shared freely, especially when the alcohol was flowing. Others, like Julia, were more secretive. For the most part he didn't care why they were there.

But he wanted to figure Julia out. She seemed like a traditional suburban do-gooder. Why would someone like that need to run away to a tropical island?

And what did she think about each morning as she stared silently at the ocean? He enjoyed that quiet time with her, but it perplexed him. What kind of woman didn't want to talk?

He wanted to find out her secret, but on the other hand, he didn't really want to share his with her. He had a feeling she wouldn't like it at all and he was enjoying her.

So he'd have to bide his time for awhile and in the meantime, enjoy the sun and surf.

Happy holidays to all my lovely readers! I did promise you a chapter for Christmas and actually intended to post yesterday, but time got away from me. Anyway, here it is. Please enjoy and I hope everyone is having a wonderful day!