Cannery Row Novels & Stories

"When you were handing out the ceremonial wine, someone bumped into you, and the wine spilled on my dress. My mate, Kyle, wiped the stains off for me, and you even said he was attentive. You remember that, don't you?" Helena shook her head. "Nora, I did pour the wine for you, but nobody bumped into me, and neither did anything spill." I looked down at my dress, and she was right. Not a single drop of wine marred the fabric—it was spotless. "This is impossible…" I mumbled. Just then, Garrett stepped forward. "Nora, we've searched the entire territory. There isn't a trace of the mate you described. We've also asked everyone here, and no one saw a mate by your side."

Olivia sighed and looked at Natasha. “This is where I want you to go. We opened a new resort in San Juan Island. You can spend a few days there with Emma. Since we had her, you never took her out because you were always busy. Don’t you think it’s time to make it up to her?” Emma looked at Natasha and pouted. Natasha heaved a loud sigh and bounced her head. “How do I turn you down now that Emma is in the picture?” “Please don’t say no. I have never been to the beach and my friends keep talking about it at school. Even during swimming lessons, they keep saying they have swam in deeper waters like the sea before.”

The sea stretched endless ahead of us, gray and restless beneath a bruised sky. The ferry groaned with every wave, its rusted hull trembling like an old secret that wanted to be heard. I kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the small radio transmitter that had become our compass — the same one that carried the signal.

The rendezvous point Rowan had specified in his call was an abandoned iron mill situated right on the neutral boundary line between the territories. I stepped into there "Rowan!" I called out, my voice surprisingly steady as it bounced off the rusted iron beams above. "I'm here. Face me if you dare." A hysterical laughter echoed from the shadows near the ceiling. A figure stepped out of the fog. Behold, Rowan looked ragged. But when his gaze locked onto me, a devious smirk appeared across his face. "Look at you," Rowan gnarled while descending the metal stairs with. "Sinclair’s shiny new toy, crawling through the mud just to beg me for mercy."

Maren on her knees at her daughter's feet, exactly where she knelt for Hetta on the first day, and she does not sing, because we have agreed she should not, and I watch a woman who was drowned for twenty years hold her jaw shut for the whole of it. And Rowan sits down cross-legged with his mother's ankle under two fingers, and does not get up, and nobody carries him anywhere. He is very quiet. I have got used to that in this mountain, and I hate every hour of it. His light is a hand's breadth of dull silver in his palm now, no brighter than a covered candle, and it does not reach the far wall anymore, and when he wipes his nose on his sleeve he does it on the side away from me because he thi

Their father had given them the keys and told them to figure it out which was apparently his standard approach to most things and which explained a great deal about both of them. They had gotten lost twice. Stopped at a diner somewhere in New Hampshire where Daniel had ordered everything on the menu because he said you could tell everything about a place from its breakfast and the waitress had loved him immediately the way everyone loved Daniel immediately. I listened and watched the highway go past outside the window and thought about a teenager in a diner ordering everything on the menu and felt the specific warmth of someone who had never met Daniel Rowe and missed him anyway. The last tw

They bathed together, ate together, and went shopping together, just like what a couple deeply in love would do. I didn't make a scene as I simply watched them show off their affection in silence. With five more days left in the divorce's waiting period, Julian suddenly suggested climbing a snow-covered mountain. He insisted that I come, too. Halfway up, Evelyn had left to get something, leaving Julian and me alone. The gentleness on his face vanished at once, replaced by a cold stare. "Why are you still hanging around here? Do you really think Evelyn will fall for you eventually?"

[Whitney, if I've let you down in this life, may I be cursed to never know happiness again. "Instead, I'll watch over you in silence forever, hoping for just one more glance from you. That's all I'll ever ask for." Epilogue "Everett, I adore the sea here!" Whitney exclaimed atop the mountain, her hair damp with the effort of the climb. Everett grinned, taking the mountain bike from her hands. "Let's head to Greisland!" she suggested, snuggling into his embrace and pointing to a picture in a travel book. "You once said you hate feeling lonely, and the sea in your painting looks so solitary. I want to experience it with you once more," she said, her eyes gleaming.

It's beauty shimmers that it is both describable and ineffable. If there was anyone who had found what she needed most in life, happiness, it was Page Cannon, a mother of two cute babies, a boy and a girl, twins. Some days after the romantic, slow sex she had with Rowan on their rose scented bed, she started throwing up. This was after her grandad had been buried.

The tawny young girl, kneeling on the stone church floor, carved the candles smooth. The sheared-off drops fell to her lap, trapped in the furrow of rough cloth. As her knife skimmed along the candle's edge, she hummed. And as she hummed, she talked to the odd little creatures that lived in what they called the Candlewood.