Waiting for the Storm (7 page)

Miranda waved a hand dismissively, but she smiled. “It was my pleasure, believe me.” She gave my hand a little push. “Drink up. It’ll help your nerves.”

The three of us stood around the fire sipping our beer and talking. Different people came and went, staying to chat for a few minutes before heading off toward the water or into the shadows between houses.

When my cup was empty, I tossed it into a recycling bin nearby. “I think I should head home.” I was getting drowsy, and thought I might be able to go to bed and actually sleep.

“Aww, don’t go,” Kennedy pleaded. She was on her second or third cup of beer, and was swaying slightly, with a somewhat goofy grin plastered to her face.

“She’s a lightweight,” Miranda whispered to me.

“I totally am,” Kennedy agreed with a giggle.

I chuckled as I looked between the two of them. They seemed like such an odd pair, and yet somehow they fit perfectly. “I haven’t gotten much sleep lately,” I told them.
Understatement of the year.
“I think I should get home and go to bed.”

“I’m so glad we came to talk to you,” Kennedy said, throwing a heavy arm around my shoulders. “I was so jealous when I saw you talking to Ezra, but you’re actually pretty cool.”

“Umm…thanks. I think.” I exchanged a glance with Miranda, who rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’ll see you guys later?”

“Definitely,” Miranda agreed. “Neither of us has summer jobs yet, so we’ll be around. I live in number four, and Kennedy lives in five. Come over anytime.”

“Thanks.” I looked toward my house, where I was sure I’d be spending a lot of time alone this summer. “You guys can come over anytime, too.” I gave them a wave and headed off across the beach.

Kennedy’s voice drifted after me. “You know I totally meant it as a good thing when I said I thought she was pretty cool, right?”

“Yes, Dee Dee,” Miranda said patiently. “I think she knew that too, she’s just not used to…well, she’s had a rough time, you know?”

I smiled to myself. I didn’t want people to befriend me out of pity, but I was pretty sure it was more than that with those two. Time would tell, and it was a start anyway.

I walked through the dark, silent house and up to my bedroom, where I went through the process of getting ready for bed. I didn’t want to make drinking a regular thing, but the beer had made me sleepy, so if that worked…

Only it didn’t. Almost as soon as I got into bed, my drowsiness faded and I was wide awake. I lay there and stared at the ceiling, watching rippling patterns created by the moon as it moved across the sky and reflected in the lake.

Since insomnia had set in several months ago, I’d tried everything I could think of to help me sleep: switching to decaf coffee and tea, drinking warm milk before bed, doing meditation and yoga, counting sheep, reading boring books. Nothing worked. I’d be up all night, then find it hard to stay awake at random points throughout the day.

A month before she died, Mom told me if things didn’t change soon she’d make me see a doctor. I didn’t want to take sleeping pills, and even more than that, I didn’t want to be sent to a shrink who would possibly try to analyze why I wasn’t sleeping.

I knew how the conversation would go: the doctor would ask when my odd sleeping patterns began, and I’d have to tell him it started as Mom’s condition worsened and I got up about a dozen times during the night to check on her and make sure she was still alive. Mom never knew that, and I was glad.

I rolled out of bed and turned on the light. This wasn’t going to work. How was I ever going to get a job or go to college if I couldn’t function in an ordinary way?

I grabbed my book from where I’d left it on the window seat, and sat down. There were still quite a few people on the beach, and I spotted Kennedy and Miranda by the water. I wondered where Ella was, but quickly pushed that thought from my head—Ella didn’t want or need me in her life, so I wasn’t going to waste energy worrying about her anymore.

I rested my head on the wall and looked up at the moon. Maybe talking to it last night hadn’t been so stupid after all. Ezra, Miranda, and Kennedy could be the new friends I’d wished for. It seemed silly, but stranger things had happened.

“I’m worried about Dad,” I whispered, not quite sure whether I was talking to the moon or to Mom. Maybe both, maybe neither. “He’s not dealing well. I know everyone deals with grief in different ways, but…his behaviour seems about as normal as mine.” I laughed mirthlessly. “At least Ella is consistently selfish and nasty. Dad’s all over the place. Fine one minute, then Zombie Dad the next.” I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

Maybe Dad was the one who needed to see a doctor. Hell, maybe the three of us needed to be hauled in for family counseling.

I laughed again, and it sounded a little crazy, even to my own ears. Family therapy would require the three of us being together in a room, and I knew that wouldn’t go over too well.

Tired of thinking, I opened my book and started to read. I glanced outside every once in awhile, watching kids drift toward home until the beach was empty. I also watched the moon as it made its slow progression across the sky. When it disappeared around the side of the house, I felt even lonelier than before.

The sun was starting to rise when I was hit with a wave of fatigue so strong it felt like I was being pulled under against my will. I was too tired to even make it to my bed, so I curled up on the cushioned window seat and fell asleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ezra was my first thought when I woke up. I must have been dreaming about him because his vivid blue-green eyes were burned into my mind as I opened my own eyes and blinked against the sunlight. It was one of the first times I’d woken up without that horrible hollow ache in my chest.

I shifted to sit up and remembered too late that I was curled up in the window seat. My body slammed to the floor, and I managed to catch myself before I hit my head. Letting out a groan of pain, I remained still while I did a mental check of my body. Nothing broken, but I was likely going to have bruises along the entire right side of my body.

I carefully pushed myself to my feet, groaning again as my muscles protested after being curled up for so long. I glanced at the clock and my eyes went wide when I saw it was almost three o’clock. I’d slept for
nine hours
? I figured it was a miracle I could even stand straight.

I hobbled into the bathroom and cranked the hot water in the shower. I hated hot showers, but I was hoping the water would relax my muscles and prevent them from seizing and spasming the rest of the day.

After ten minutes under the scorching spray, I got out and looked at my lobster-red reflection in the mirror. My skin was normally so pale from lack of recent sun exposure that it made the red stand out even more. I thought of the back of Ezra’s neck yesterday getting burned from where he must have forgotten to apply sunscreen.

I gazed at my reflection and discovered that thinking about Ezra had made me smile. If his work schedule was the same as the day before, he should still be outside. I quickly applied cream to my face and braided my wet hair. By the time I was dressed, my skin had returned to its normal colour.

As I hurried downstairs, I realized how quiet it was. No hammering or boards clattering together outside. There was a sign on the inside of the front door that read ‘Remember to use back door’ in what I assumed was Ezra’s loopy handwriting. I was grateful he’d done that; with how scattered my dad had been lately I wouldn’t put it past him to forget the porch was gone and step right out the front door into nothing.

I pulled the door open, expecting to see Ezra outside taking a break, but he wasn’t there, and there was no sign of his tools.

“Loverboy’s already gone,” Ella called in a bored tone from the kitchen doorway.

“Do you know where he went?” I asked.

“Do I look like his personal secretary?”

In a pair of barely-there shorts and a tight, low-cut tank top, I wanted to tell her what she looked like, but I kept my mouth shut.

“No snappy comeback?” she taunted. “Guess it’s ’cause there’s no one around to jump to your defense this time.”

Ignoring her, I closed and locked the front door and moved past her into the kitchen. I could feel her hovering behind me, and even though I hated having my back to her, I didn’t want to look at her. I was opening the fridge door when a loud banging made me gasp and whirl around.

“Oops.” Ella’s hand was on a cupboard door, and her eyes were wide with innocence. “I forgot how jumpy you are these days. My bad.” With an evil grin, she spun around and sauntered across the living room to the sliding glass doors.

She didn’t notice anything else, but of course she had to notice I’d been anxious lately, and startled at the least little thing. I didn’t know whether it came from being cooped up so much, my lack of sleep, or spending so much time worrying about Mom and everyone else. Regardless, I hoped my nerves improved soon. I didn’t need one more thing for Ella to use against me.

“Oh, Charlotte, there you are.” Dad walked into the kitchen and looked at me as if he hadn’t seen me in ages. “That boy who’s working on the porch…what
is
his name, and why can’t I remember it?”

“Ezra,” I prompted.

“Ezra!” Dad said, snapping his fingers. “Ezra asked me to tell you he had to leave early today to check on a project he’s doing for someone else. Said he’ll see you soon, though. He seems like a nice boy.”

“Yeah, he does,” I agreed. The old Dad—as in pre-Zombie Dad—would have prodded me for information about whether I liked Ezra. He would have jabbed me lightly in the ribs and teased me until I told him everything he wanted to know. I waited a minute, hoping he might ask, but he didn’t.

“He’s a fast worker, too,” he commented instead. “I thought it would take ages to get that porch down, but he’s almost done.” I just nodded, unsure how to respond. After a few seconds, he said, “Anyway, I was going to head into town, check things out. I thought you and Ella might like to come along, but she just left. You up for it?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. I thought for sure it would be days before I’d get a chance to go anywhere, and I was eager to see what else the island had to offer.

“Great.” Dad gave me a small smile and stepped closer, running his hand down my long braid and tugging lightly on the end. “I know this isn’t easy,” he said quietly. “I know you and Mom were close…and I know I’ve been…” He waved a hand around, as if hoping to grasp the right words from thin air. Finally he shrugged helplessly, searching my face for understanding.

“I know, Dad.” My throat was so thick I could only whisper the words.

He leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes. I closed mine too, and felt tears slip down my cheeks.

“I’m so angry, Charlotte,” he whispered. “So angry at her for leaving us.”

I jerked back and looked at him in shock. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he desperately wished he could take back his words. The guilt in his expression made the hollow ache around my heart return. He started to back toward the door, but I grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m mad too.” My voice was a barely audible whisper now, and I prayed that wherever Mom was she hadn’t heard me. I hadn’t let myself acknowledge that particular emotion because it felt like I was betraying Mom. She hadn’t asked to get sick, and she sure as hell hadn’t asked to die, but it didn’t stop the anger.

I had made up my mind it was one thing I would never share with another living soul. My sadness, my pain, my inability to understand how life could be so unfair sometimes—that was one thing—but the anger was something I was ashamed of.

Until now. Until I realized I wasn’t alone.

Dad just stared at me. He looked like he wanted to believe me, but he wasn’t quite sure if I was just saying the words or if they were true.

“I’ve been angry for so long,” he told me, his voice quiet as if he were confessing his sins and hoping to be absolved. “It’s not fair. She was so…so young and beautiful and vibrant, with such an amazing life ahead. But it was ripped away from her. She was ripped away from
us
. I know it happens all the time, but it’s just so wrong.”

“I know.” I was still holding his wrist, and I could feel his pulse fluttering under his skin like a trapped butterfly. “I know.”

“But…” He shrugged and wiped at his red eyes. “That’s life. Being angry doesn’t bring her back. It doesn’t change a damn thing, does it?”

I shook my head. Without a word, he pulled his arm from my grasp, turned, and walked toward the sliding doors in the living room. “I’ll be waiting in the car,” he called. “Take your time.”

I touched my wet face. I was sure it was probably as red as it had been when I got out of the shower. I went upstairs, splashed my face with cold water, and put on a bit of makeup in an attempt to disguise my flushed skin and puffy eyes.

I wanted to believe that after Dad’s revelation, things would be different. That after sharing his secret and discovering I felt the same way, he’d talk to me more, maybe even confide in me. But I had a feeling it would take more than our conversation and a few shared tears to make him return to his old self. I would keep hoping and trying though.

I knew I should attempt the same with Ella, but she didn’t make it easy. It felt like she’d made it her mission to be as miserable as possible, and anything anyone said or did would just make her worse. There was part of me—the part that still thought of her as my baby sister despite the fact she was almost seventeen—that wanted to wrap my arms around her and promise her everything would be okay. But lately instead of any sisterly feelings toward her, all I felt was the same hostility she showed me.

I hated it—hated the negative emotions eating away at me, hated the distance between us—but I felt powerless. We had
both
lost Mom, and even though I’d promised to take care of Ella, sometimes I wondered who was going to take care of me.

I grabbed my purse and met Dad in the car. He didn’t look at me and didn’t say anything, just started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

I leaned my head back on the seat and watched the scenery pass by. I found Kennedy’s and Miranda’s houses and wondered briefly what they were doing. Where would they get summer jobs? Were they going away to college in the fall?

When we reached the end of our road, Dad paused for a long time at the stop sign. A few people milled around on the sidewalk, and I caught a glimpse of Hank in the window of the general store.

“I thought we might just drive for a bit,” Dad said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Then we can park and check out the main street.” He indicated the shops on Carrington Street, and I simply nodded.

He turned left and drove in the opposite direction from the way we came the day we arrived. I was surprised at the number of businesses clustered together, and thought there must be more people living in this area than I’d originally assumed.

It didn’t take long for the buildings to become fewer and farther between and finally taper off to farmland once more. There seemed to be more houses on this side of the island, but they were all set way back from the road.

The street dipped and curved, and the lake came back into view. As we got closer to the water, more houses started popping up, but these were unlike the rest of the houses I’d seen so far. These looked like million dollar homes. Sitting on lots that were easily twice the size of the beach house lots, these houses were enormous, with elaborate architectural designs and massive windows.

“They’re really something, eh?” Dad commented.

I murmured my agreement, unable to take my eyes off the houses. I noticed what looked like a gazebo being built at the back of one property, and wondered if Ezra was the one building it.

We carried on, following the road wherever it turned. We passed a big old church in the middle of nowhere with huge cornfields on either side and across the street. I squinted at the sign as we passed, smiling when I read ‘The Church in the Cornfield’ under the name. Everything seemed so much simpler here than in the city.

When we’d circled back around to Carrington Street, Dad parked in front of the general store and we got out. Hank was leaning in the doorway again, and he nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“I guess there’s a library back here somewhere,” Dad said, heading in the opposite direction. I trailed along after him, following him down a short alley to an old house that had been converted into a library.

When I was little, books had been my dad’s and my ‘
thing
’. Mom loved to read too, but Dad was the one who took me to the bookstore every Sunday and to the library anytime I asked. Once a month he’d take me to the library at the university where he worked, and I’d wander the stacks, fingers trailing reverently over the spines of hundreds of old volumes.

It wasn’t until I was in high school that Dad let me check out the occasional book from the university library, but I was happy just to be there with him in the presence of all those tomes. We often tried to get Ella to come along, but she preferred to stay home playing by herself. Eventually Mom stepped in and decided to make Sundays Mom and Ella days, and she’d take my sister wherever she wanted to go, just the two of them.

I’d forgotten about that until now. The memory made me wonder yet again how Ella could think I was Mom’s favourite. We didn’t have special Mom and Charlotte days, but then a voice in my head—one that sounded an awful lot like Ella—said that was because
every
day was Mom and Charlotte day.

“They have a pretty good selection for a small island library,” Dad whispered to me, once again breaking into my thoughts. I hadn’t even realized we were inside the library. I must have followed along on autopilot, my mind so stuck in the past I hadn’t been aware of what I was doing. That was kind of a scary thought.

I cast a glance around, taking in the checkout desk to the left and the stacks of books straight ahead. I could hear the faint
click-clack
of fingers on a keyboard, and figured there must be an area with computers behind the stacks.

“Hi there!” a pleasant voice called. I hadn’t noticed the librarian behind the desk, but she scurried out now, offering a hand to my dad, then me. I was terrible at guessing adults’ ages, but I estimated her to be in her mid-forties; she was medium height with short curly hair, a summery dress, and flat shoes. “You must be the O’Dells. I’m Shelley, the head librarian. When I heard you were a professor, I didn’t think it’d be long before we’d be seeing you in here.”

Shelley and Dad fell into conversation about his job and what it was like to teach in the city. I excused myself, wandering over to the bulletin board by the desk. There was a flyer for the concert Kennedy and Miranda had mentioned last night, a notice about a block yard sale coming up in two weeks, and a small card with a hand-written advertisement for repairs, minor construction, and yard work with Ezra’s name and phone number. The number was easy, and I repeated it to myself several times before it was etched in my brain.

Just in case,
I thought.

I was about to turn away when I noticed one more flyer. It had been turned over slightly, as if caught in a breeze from someone walking by. I flattened it out and read ‘Volunteers wanted at the library, please ask Shelley for information’.

“I don’t suppose you’re interested,” Shelley said from behind me. I jumped, nearly ripping the page from the board. “Sorry, dear,” she said with a light, tinkling laugh. “I’m a quiet walker. Occupational hazard.”