Waiting for the Storm (3 page)

He shook his head again, and let out a long breath. “Your mom said she’d pay for the repairs. She wanted to return the place to its ‘former glory’, so it would be the same place she had fallen in love with as a girl. She wanted us to…”

He trailed off, and his face crumpled. My heart leapt into my throat at the sight. I unbuckled my seatbelt quickly, shifting to the edge of my seat so I could reach forward and take his hand. He was crying now, tears streaming down his face, his body shaking with silent sobs.

A hollow sort of pain developed in my chest. Was it possible to actually feel your heart break? After the events of the last year, I thought my heart was already broken, but this ache made me wonder if my heart would just keep breaking little by little until it was shattered beyond repair.

Dad took a deep breath and his tears stopped as suddenly as they’d started. He met my eyes in the rearview mirror and smiled weakly before gently pulling his hand free from mine to wipe his face. “She wanted us to see this place as she had all those years ago,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just had a minor breakdown. “She wanted us to fall in love with it the way she did.”

Ella scoffed. “Not likely.”

Dad shot her a hard look. My heart leapt again; I was glad I wasn’t on the receiving end of that look. “Gabriella,” he said in a no-nonsense voice I’d never heard him use before. “You will
not
make this harder than it already is.”

Ella slumped down in her seat, turning her face away and muttering something under her breath. Dad ignored her and popped the latch for the trunk. “Anyway,” he said pointedly, “your mother was determined that she’d get this place fixed up, even if…well, even if she couldn’t come back. We had savings, as you know, and she knew we’d be getting money from her life insurance…” He winced and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “Lilah said there was someone who lived on the beach that could fix it up for a good price. She gave me the number, and I’m supposed to call right away before he gets too busy.”

“Good,” I said. “I’m sure there’s stuff we could do to help.” Ella’s shoulders jerked and I knew she had scoffed again under her breath. “Stuff
I
could do to help,” I amended.

“If the inside looks anything like the outside, that would be a big help,” Dad said, sending me another weak smile in the rearview mirror.

We all sat in silence staring up at the house. The air in the car grew hot and thick, but still we sat, as if frozen.

Finally Ella wrenched her door open and got out, slamming it so hard the whole car rocked. “I’m going in.” She grabbed one of her two suitcases from the trunk and stomped off in the direction of the house, her heels teetering in the loose gravel of the driveway.

I slid from the car and stepped around to the back. I was rearranging the bags to reach mine when I heard Ella yell “Shit!” from the front of the house. I peeked around the raised trunk and saw her standing on the second porch step, her bag half sunk through a large hole in the third step.

I had a sudden, strong urge to laugh, so I ducked back behind the trunk where Ella wouldn’t see me. Guess the porch was as rickety as it looked.

The car shifted as Dad got out, and a second later I heard the two of them struggling to free the suitcase. More stomping from Ella, followed by the nails-on-a-chalkboard shriek of the screen door opening. I knew Ella would hurry upstairs to lay claim to the best room, and since I had no intention of arguing with her I decided to give her a head start.

Pulling my bag from the trunk, I walked toward the house, carefully maneuvering around the gaping hole in the porch step and watching for places the wood might be rotting. Dad had been so scattered lately, I had a feeling he’d forget to call the repairman and it would fall to me like everything else did.

I made a mental note to do it tomorrow.

The inside of the house was in better condition than I’d anticipated. It looked like somebody had cleaned recently, and it didn’t smell musty, as I’d expected it to. Lilah must have aired it out in preparation of our arrival.

The door opened into a wide hallway that branched off into the kitchen on the left and the living room on the right. I tugged my bag along behind me as I glanced into the rustic but spacious kitchen, then across to the living room. It was almost as big as our living room back home, although I had a feeling it looked much the same as it had when Mom spent summers here. The furniture was outdated but comfortable-looking, and there was one of those huge old TVs with a built-in cabinet from the ’70s.

The rest of the details of the room were lost when my gaze shifted to the sliding glass doors across the room. I wound my way between the couch and chairs and unlocked the latch, pushing the glass open and breathing in the fresh air. The door opened onto a sturdier looking porch than the front, and led straight down onto the beach. The water was so close I could hear it lapping against the shore.

I felt my lips twitch slightly. It had been so long since I’d smiled for real, it was like my muscles had forgotten the act of proper smiling. I may be afraid of open water, but I had no problem being near it, just as long as I didn’t have to go
in
it. I hoped the fresh air, sunshine, and the sound of the water would be what I needed to get me back on a regular sleep schedule. Mom joked that I’d become an insomniac, but I knew my screwy sleeping habits had worried her, and that she’d blamed herself.

Filling my lungs one more time with summer-scented air, I decided Ella had probably chosen a room by now, which meant I could go see what was left. On my way to the stairs I noticed a hall off the kitchen, and upon exploration discovered a bathroom and a large bedroom, where my dad was currently sitting on the bed staring straight ahead.

“Sorry,” I said when he saw me, his expression momentarily blank. It scared me how quickly he went from being okay to being Zombie Dad. “I didn’t realize there was a bedroom down here.”

He nodded slowly and glanced around as if just realizing where he was. “I’m going to sleep down here,” he said. “You girls can have the upstairs to yourselves.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied my face, and he shook his head. “God, you look so much like her,” he whispered.

I felt my face grow hot, and I blinked my suddenly stinging eyes. People had been telling me for as long as I could remember that I looked like Mom. Ella and I both had her bright blue eyes, but where Ella resembled Dad in every other way, I’d gotten Mom’s curly auburn hair, button nose, and cupid’s bow mouth. It had always been a source of pride for me that I resembled her so strongly, but now it made it nearly impossible to look into a mirror without breaking down.

“She was so beautiful.” Dad was looking through me now, rather than at me, and that hollow ache returned to my chest. He blinked rapidly and met my eyes, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know this is…and I haven’t been…” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Just give me time,” he pleaded, looking down at his feet.

“Of course, Dad. Whatever you need.” I’d taken care of Mom the last year; I could take care of Dad now, too. Someone had to hold this family together, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Ella.

I closed the door quietly and made my way upstairs. I jolted in surprise when Ella came stomping out of the closest bedroom, still dragging her suitcase. “You take that room,” she said, not meeting my eyes.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked warily.

“Nothing,” Ella snapped, jerking her suitcase so hard it hit her in the shins. I knew it had to hurt—the thing must have weighed a ton—but she remained steely-eyed and expressionless. “I just don’t want it. You take it.”

She shoved open the door across the hall and disappeared inside, slamming the door behind her.

I sighed. I was almost afraid to look inside the room now. I had visions of moldy wallpaper, rickety furniture, or maybe a dead mouse lying in the middle of the floor. I stepped slowly into the room and looked around. I frowned, unable to imagine what Ella could have possibly found lacking in this room—it was amazing. Spacious, with a double bed, large dresser, desk, and beautiful rustic wood floors, it was pretty much a million times better than what I’d been expecting.

I crossed the room and opened what I assumed was the closet door, but discovered a small bathroom instead. An en suite? In a room that wasn’t the master? What was wrong with my little sister?

“If you haven’t figured that out by now…” I muttered, closing the bathroom door and opening the other door in the room, which led to a decent sized closet.

I moved to the window to check out the view. Maybe that was Ella’s problem? Leaning on the window seat—window seat! I’d always wanted one of those—I peered outside and got the same view I had from the sliding glass doors in the living room. The perfect room, the perfect view. There had to be something wrong with this room for Ella not to choose it.

My hand brushed against something rough on the windowsill, and I glanced down. In one corner, there were different names, initials, and dates carved into the wood. I smiled to myself, thinking of generations of young girls inhabiting this room. My gaze froze when I saw ‘Annie Strain, July 1971’ carved there. My mother. This had been Mom’s room. Ella must have seen this during her quick tour of the room and decided she didn’t want to be in Mom’s room.

But was it
because
it was Mom’s room, or was it maybe,
just maybe
, because Ella thought I would appreciate being in Mom’s old room? I shook my head. I couldn’t remember the last time Ella had done something selfless, let alone something that would make me happy.

“You’re over-thinking things,” I told myself, tracing Mom’s carved name on the sill. “Too much time alone.”

“Talking to yourself?” I spun around to see Ella leaning in the doorway, examining her fingernails. “They say that’s a sign of insanity, you know.”

“Why didn’t you want this room?” I knew she was just trying to get a rise out of me, and I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“Didn’t like the view,” she said breezily, but I could have sworn her cheeks turned pink.

I scoffed. “Please. Who doesn’t like a lake view? And an en suite? You’re not usually one to pass up the finer things in life.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re the only two on this floor. The bathroom next to my room is as good as an en suite, plus it’s way bigger.” She straightened, and I noticed she had changed into an even shorter skirt and tighter top than she’d been wearing before.

Her response still didn’t answer my question, but I knew there was no use pressing her. “Where are you going?” I bit my tongue to keep from adding ‘dressed like a hooker’.

“Gonna check things out.” She went back to studying her fingernails, chipping away at the already-peeling dark-green varnish. “And by
things
I mean the locals. And by
the locals
, I mean boys.” She giggled, the high-pitched sound setting my teeth on edge.

“There’s no one here but me, you know.” I spoke quietly, wishing she would meet my gaze and really hear me for once. “You don’t have to keep up this act. You forget I know the real you, Ella.”

“It’s
Gabriella
,” she spat, and this time I didn’t imagine the colour rising in her cheeks. “And you don’t know anything about me. You think this is an act? Maybe this was the real me all along, and it took stepping out of your shadow to realize it.”

“I don’t know why you think you were ever in my shadow,” I retorted. “I always tried to include you in things, introduce you to people, help you make friends.”

Ella let out a harsh laugh. “Saint Charlotte,” she mocked in a saccharine voice. “Always trying to help us lesser mortals. First me, then Mom…”

Without thinking, my legs carried me across the room in three long strides. I stopped in front of Ella, glaring into her eyes. We hadn’t stood this close in so long I hadn’t realized we were almost exactly the same height. “Don’t you
dare
talk about Mom.” I pointed a shaking finger at her, desperately wishing it, and my voice, were steadier.

Ella knocked my hand away. “I’ll talk about Mom if I want to. She was my mother, too.”

“Funny, you wouldn’t have known it the last year.”

So many emotions crossed Ella’s face it was almost impossible to pinpoint the most dominant one: anger, hurt, remorse. For an instant I almost regretted my words, until she shoved me and I nearly went flying.

“Screw you, Charlotte.” She whirled around and strode down the hall, her footsteps echoing on the stairs.

“Good talk!” I called after her, even though I knew she was already gone. I staggered backward and fell onto the bed, completely deflated.

This wasn’t how I wanted to start the summer. Especially a summer when I was stuck with my sister on an island.

I crawled to the top of the bed and lay my head on the pillow. I wondered briefly if the sheets were clean, but then the scent of summer fresh detergent wafted up from the pillow and I figured Lilah had probably made up all the beds with clean sheets when she’d aired the place out.

It was still early afternoon. I could probably have a quick nap now and still be able to sleep tonight. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept at night, but surely after several days with only a few hours’ sleep, things would be different.

I was still trying to make up my mind when I drifted to sleep.

CHAPTER THREE

I bolted upright in bed, gasping. The room was dark, and my eyes darted around as I desperately tried to orient myself. Then I remembered where I was: Angel Island, in the beach house where Mom had spent the summers of her youth.

I let out a long breath and rubbed my eyes. I knew it had to be after ten o’clock since sunset was just after nine these days, and it was pitch dark outside.

I fumbled around in my pockets for my cell phone and clicked it on. 11:02 p.m. So much for a quick nap. I didn’t expect Ella to even acknowledge my existence for a while, but I thought Dad would have noticed I wasn’t around.

Dad wouldn’t even notice if the house fell down around his ears
, a small voice in my head reasoned. It was sad, but true. None of us was doing a good job dealing with Mom’s death.

I rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. After sleeping that long and getting up this late, I’d never get back to sleep tonight. Maybe I should just reconcile myself to being a nocturnal creature. Like a vampire, minus the bloodsucking.

The thought actually made me want to smile. Mom had been like a teenage fangirl when it came to vampires, especially ones on
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and
Angel
. We owned both series on DVD, and had nearly worn them out in the last year.

With a sigh, I got to my feet and went to the window. The moon was nearly full, and it shone on the rippling black water, turning it silvery gray in places. The sound of distant voices carried on the breeze, and I stood extra still, listening. I was sure I heard Ella’s voice, and I wondered if she’d been out this entire time.

I left my room and went downstairs. The only source of light came from the flickering glow of the television in the living room. I peeked my head around the corner to find Dad stretched out on the couch watching some sitcom I didn’t recognize. I debated whether to speak or not, and decided to just let him be. I doubted he was actually watching the show so much as staring blankly at the screen, but still.

I wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I wasn’t expecting much more than the snacks we’d brought for the drive up, so I was surprised to find a box in the fridge with half a pepperoni pizza. There was a Delivery sticker on the box, and the logo read Angelo’s Pizza, 434 Carrington Drive, Angel Island. Carrington Drive was the street we’d turned off to get to the beach house, the one with the stores and school. Who knew a small island like this would have a pizza place that delivered?

I pulled a slice from the box and leaned against the counter while I ate it. As surprised as I was to find the pizza in the fridge, I was even more shocked to discover it was quite possibly the best pizza I’d ever tasted.

While I considered another slice, the voices outside carried through the open window, and I definitely recognized Ella’s voice now. Pushing away from the counter, I crossed the kitchen and went through the living room. I paused at the glass doors and looked over at Dad, but his eyes were closed. Sliding the door open as quietly as possible, I slipped outside, shutting the door behind me.

A small bonfire was blazing down on the beach behind the house to the left. Kids that I guessed to be about my age milled around in couples and groups. I spotted Ella standing with a guy just inside the ring of light cast by the fire. She had a drink in her hand, and she was standing so close to the guy she was almost pressed against him.

They must have heard me step outside, because the pair turned in my direction, and I heard the guy ask, “Who’s that?”

Ella took so long to speak I didn’t think she was going to answer him. “That’s just my sister,” she said finally, her tone flippant.

“Why don’t you invite her over?” He said it in a flirty sort of way that made my lip curl in disgust.

“She doesn’t like to have fun.” Ella raised her voice just enough that I knew she wanted me to hear. “She’d rather be alone and act like a tortured soul.”

The guy laughed, swaying so much I wondered how he was still standing. “Sounds kinda sexy to me.” His slurred speech made it clear he was drunk, or headed there.

“Not sexy,” Ella snapped. The guy moved back a step, and she followed, touching his arm. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, almost a purr. “What do you need her for anyway? Aren’t you having fun with me?”

He bent to whisper something in Ella’s ear, and a tinkling giggle rolled out of her. She took his hand and the two of them wandered off into the shadows between the houses without a backward glance.

My stomach clenched painfully. I wanted so badly to run after them and drag Ella back to the house, tell her she was acting like a fool, and lock her in her room. We hadn’t even been here twelve hours and already she was disappearing into the night with some strange guy, doing god knows what.

I leaned against the railing and let my head fall into my hands. I had promised Mom before she died that I would look after Ella. Mom had been aware of the changes in Ella, but she maintained it was just a phase while she tried to find her place in the world. I wasn’t sure about that; it seemed like an awfully long phase to me. Long, misguided, destructive.

Mom and I talked about almost everything, but I tried hard to hide the darker side of Ella’s ‘phase’ from her—the smoking, the drinking, the partying. I was pretty sure she’d had sex with at least a few guys at school, but it wasn’t like I could come out and ask her; the lines of communication between us hadn’t exactly been open lately.

A beeping sound made me jump and straighten up. I looked around and my eyes settled on the house to the right, where someone sat in a chair on the porch. It was too dark to make out anything other than an outline, but a second later the beeping stopped and the bluish light of a cell phone appeared.

“Hey,” a quiet male voice said. “Okay. I’ll be right there.” The light disappeared and the shadowy figure rose from the chair. He crossed the porch and went down the stairs, keys jingling as he pulled them from his pocket.

As he came around to pass between his house and mine, I had a sudden urge to duck into the deeper shadows near the house, but I knew that was ridiculous. I had no reason to be embarrassed, but I couldn’t help wondering if he’d heard Ella’s comments to that guy, or seen her go off with him.

I still couldn’t see him clearly, but my embarrassment deepened when he raised a hand in a wave. He didn’t say anything, and I was too stunned to speak, but he was gone before I even had a chance to wave back. A second later, I heard a car door slam and an engine roar to life.

Not exactly the first impression I wanted to make with my new neighbours, but since I hadn’t been able to see him clearly, maybe he hadn’t seen me clearly, either. I was sure we’d meet in the light of day soon enough.

I glanced back toward the beach and noticed a little hill of sand between my house and my mystery neighbour’s. I descended the steps and crossed the beach to the mound, my bare feet sinking into the still-warm sand. I went around the front of the sand hill and stopped, studying it in the sparse moonlight.

On impulse I sat down and nestled into the sand. It made the perfect little nest-like seat, and at about twelve feet from the water’s edge, I wasn’t too close for comfort. I could peek around either side and see the houses behind me, most of them dark like my neighbour’s to the right, but some of them spilling square and rectangular beams of light from windows and doors onto the beach.

I had no idea what to do with myself for the next few hours. I was wide awake, and expected to stay that way at least until daylight. I desperately wished for a distraction—something to shut my mind off and stop the endless stream of thoughts that invaded my mind every waking hour of the day.

Ella teased that I was a ‘tortured soul’, but she wouldn’t be so quick to judge if she’d been the one spending every day with Mom, watching her suffer from debilitating headaches, have occasional lapses in memory and basic motor function, and all but waste away before her eyes. Ella had no idea what I’d been through the past year, and she didn’t care. I doubted she knew that I spent most nights awake in my room, reading, surfing the net, and watching TV, then catching naps throughout the day while Mom slept.

I didn’t think either she or Dad would clue in over the next two months. Neither of them paid enough attention. Maybe now that Mom was gone and I didn’t have as much to worry about, I could return to a somewhat normal sleeping schedule. A somewhat normal
life
. Whatever normal was. I wasn’t sure I even knew anymore.

I looked in the direction of the bonfire. Ella must still be with that guy, but several people stood around, talking and laughing quietly. The residents of the beach must be used to groups hanging around late at night. Back home if we’d made any noise outside past eleven o’clock, someone would have called the police with a noise complaint.

I watched a trio of girls who were clustered close together just outside the light from the bonfire. Their murmured voices, along with snippets of their conversation, drifted over to me, and I felt a pang of longing. The three of them reminded me of Bianca, Alexis, and me before last year. There was a time when I’d have walked over and introduced myself, tried to become part of the group. Now I barely knew how to act around kids my age. I’d been out of the real world for so long, I had lost my confidence.

The wind picked up, sending grains of sand dancing around me in a small whirlwind. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, catching the faint scent of lilacs. Mom’s favourite flower.

A shiver tingled along my spine. Was it ridiculous to believe this was some kind of sign from her? A hollow little laugh spilled from my mouth. The wind blew and all of a sudden I believed in messages from beyond the grave? Maybe Ella was right; maybe I really was losing touch with reality.

Still, it was kind of a nice thought. Not the losing touch with reality part, but the idea that my mom might be sending me a message. Maybe Mom wanted to somehow let me know everything was going to be okay. That I had a chance to start over, to be someone different here. Mom had always been big on second chances.

Maybe this summer could be mine.

*****

Despite that lovely thought, I remained in my little sand nest, deciding I wasn’t quite ready to introduce myself around yet. There would be time for that.

When the group started to disperse, I stayed where I was, watching people head off down the beach and disappear into houses or toward the street, where I heard the soft hum of engines driving away.

Someone tossed sand on the bonfire and waited to make sure the flames were out before going into the house to the left of mine.

I stared out across the lake, watching the moon make its slow progression across the inky-dark sky. Stars glittered overhead like millions of tiny electric pinpoints breaking up the darkness.

I remembered Mom telling me that when she was younger, she used to talk to the moon. She’d been an only child, and had a fairly lonely childhood, so at night she would talk to the moon—tell it her secrets, her wishes, her hopes for the future. She told me she’d spent years wishing for a friend, and had finally found two of them when her family started spending summers on Angel Island.

If I talked to the moon and made a wish would I find a friend like Mom had? The thought was so ridiculous it almost made me laugh. And yet…

“What do I really have to lose at this point?” I whispered into the darkness. I felt sort of foolish sitting all alone on a beach in a strange place talking to myself, but then I pictured my mom doing it—my brave, funny, smart, kind of quirky mom—and it didn’t seem quite so silly.

“I miss you so much, Mom,” I murmured. She’d only been gone a week, but sometimes it felt like forever. Other times, like now, sitting on the beach where I knew she’d once been, made it feel like she’d never left. I leaned my head back, not caring if I got sand in my hair.

“What should I wish for? For Dad to learn to cope better? For Ella to stop hating me? For life to return to some semblance of normalcy?” I shook my head and closed my eyes. A phantom image of the moon remained burned behind my eyelids. “For a friend? Someone to talk to? Someone who understands that…that I don’t even
remember
what normal is? That I can barely function after being out of the real world for a year?”

When my eyes began to prickle, I scrubbed my hands over my face and pushed quickly to my feet, brushing sand from my legs. I needed a distraction, and since there was no one else around to provide one I’d have to figure something out on my own.

I walked toward the house and hesitated for a minute, wondering if I should go look for Ella. Even though she didn’t want anything to do with me, I still felt responsible for her. She would always be my baby sister, no matter what, and I hated the thought of her getting hurt.

Then again, she was sixteen, almost seventeen. She knew what she was doing, even if she also knew it was wrong and potentially harmful. She wasn’t acting out of grief over Mom’s death—she’d been acting this way for months.

I stood there for a few minutes longer, straining my ears for any sound coming from further down the beach. When I didn’t hear anything other than regular night noises, I figured it was possible Ella had gone in the front door to avoid being seen by Dad. With a shrug, I slipped through the sliding doors and found Dad still passed out on the couch.

There was a time when Ella and I had a strictly enforced curfew. Once I turned sixteen, I had to be home by eleven unless my parents agreed otherwise, and they told me it would be upped to midnight when I turned seventeen. Ella had never needed a curfew until the beginning of this past school year because she’d rarely gone out at night, but when she started, her curfew had been eleven, too.

When Mom got sick, Dad became the curfew enforcer, making sure Ella was home no later than eleven. I stopped going out with friends, so curfew time didn’t mean anything to me. I’d seen Ella sneak out several times after our parents were in bed, but I never said anything. I didn’t need to give her another reason to hate me.