Wings Free with Bonus Material (15 page)

“
JUST IN TIME
,”
MOM SAID AS LAUREL WALKED IN THE
door from school the next day. “The phone’s for you.”

Laurel took the phone. She’d just left David at the corner. Why would he call her already? “Hello?” she asked questioningly.

“Hey, Laurel. It’s Chelsea.”

“Hi,” Laurel said.

“Are you busy? It’s a sunny day, so I thought you might like to go see the Battery Point Lighthouse.”

Laurel had heard of the historic landmark but hadn’t yet seen it. “Yeah,” she said. “I’d love to.”

“Pick you up in five?”

“Great.”

“Going somewhere with David?” Laurel’s mom asked after she hung up.

“Chelsea, actually. She wants to go to the lighthouse. Is that okay?”

“Sure, that’s wonderful. I’m glad to see you branching out. You know I like David a lot, but you should have more friends. It’s healthier.”

Laurel went to the fridge and opened up a soda while she was waiting.

“I got your midterm grades in the mail today,” her mom said.

The soda seemed to stick in Laurel’s throat. Up until she blossomed, she’d been doing quite well in school, but she wasn’t sure how much of that she’d been able to keep up when her life went crazy.

“Three As, two Bs. I’m pretty happy with that,” her mom said with a smile. Then she laughed and added, “Honestly, part of me is proud of myself. I must have done an okay job for you to be doing this well.”

Laurel rolled her eyes as her mom handed her the grades. The B in bio wasn’t surprising, but then neither was the A in English. All she had to do was make it until the end of the semester now. Shouldn’t be too hard. The worst was definitely behind her.

“Why’s Dad’s car here?” Laurel asked.

Her mom sighed. “Dad’s sick. He’s been sick all day. Missed work, even.”

“Wow,” Laurel said. “He hasn’t missed a day of work in forever.”

“Yeah. I made him stay in bed all day. He should be better tomorrow.”

She heard a horn honk in the driveway.

“There’s Chelsea,” Laurel said, grabbing her jacket.

“Have fun,” her mom said with a smile.

Laurel slid into the backseat of Chelsea’s mom’s car and Chelsea turned and beamed at her. “Hey! The lighthouse is awesome; it’s totally classic. You’ll love it.”

Chelsea’s mom dropped them off in the parking lot. “I’ll be back in about two hours,” she said.

“Bye,” Chelsea called, waving.

“Where now?” Laurel said, looking out at the ocean.

“We walk,” Chelsea said, pointing to an island about five hundred feet out from the shore.

“We’re walking to an island?”

“Technically it’s an isthmus when the tide is low.”

Shading her eyes from the sun, Laurel squinted out at the island. “I don’t see a lighthouse.”

“It’s not like the lighthouses you see in paintings. It’s just a house with a light on the roof.”

Chelsea led the way as they walked on a small strip of sand that connected the little island to the mainland. It was fun to be so close to the ocean without actually being in it. Laurel liked the tangy smell of the salt water and the fresh breeze that caressed her face and sent Chelsea’s curly hair swinging. It was ironic, really, that she enjoyed the smell of the ocean when she hated salty water.

When they reached the island, there was a gravel road that led up a hill. It was only a few minutes before they came around a small bend and the lighthouse came into view.

“It really is just a normal house,” Laurel said, surprised.

“Except for the light,” Chelsea said, pointing.

Chelsea played tour guide, under the watchful eye of a
security guard, as she showed Laurel through the small house and explained the history of the lighthouse, including its role in the tsunamis that Crescent City fell victim to every few years. “They’re awesome,” Chelsea said, “at least, when they don’t get too big.”

Laurel wasn’t sure she shared Chelsea’s enthusiasm.

Chelsea took her out to a small yard and pointed out the purple flowers that grew up the rocks on all sides of the tiny island. “They’re really pretty,” Laurel said, bending to touch a small patch of the tiny blossoms.

Chelsea pulled a blanket out of her bag and spread it on the soft grass. They sat together, watching the sea in silence for a few minutes. Laurel felt so at peace in this rugged, beautiful place. Chelsea dug into her bag again and brought out a Snickers bar for herself and handed Laurel a small Tupperware.

“What’s this?” Laurel asked.

“Strawberries. They’re organic, if that matters,” Chelsea added.

Laurel smiled and popped the top. “Thanks. They look great.” A million times better than the candy bar Chelsea was enjoying.

“So what’s up with you and David?”

Laurel choked on the strawberry she had just started chewing and coughed energetically. “What do you mean?”

“I just wondered if you guys are a couple yet.”

“Well, don’t beat around the bush about it or anything,” Laurel said, more to her strawberries than to Chelsea.

“He really likes you, Laurel.” Chelsea sighed. “I wish he liked me half as much.”

Laurel poked at her strawberries with her fork.

“I think I’ve liked him since the day he moved here. He and I used to be on a soccer team together,” she added, smiling.

Laurel could see in her mind a ten-year-old Chelsea—opinionated and outspoken just like now, and not really fitting in—meeting David for the first time. Nonjudgmental, accepting David. It was no wonder Chelsea had latched on to him. But still…“Chelsea, no offense, but why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know.” They were silent for a little while. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything,” Chelsea assured her. “David doesn’t like me that way, I know that. Honestly, if he’s going to have a girlfriend, I’d rather it was someone like you. Someone I’m friends with too.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Laurel said.

“So…are you his girlfriend now?” Chelsea pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Is that a question?” Chelsea asked with a grin.

“I don’t know.” She paused, then glanced sidelong at Chelsea. “You really don’t mind if I talk about it?”

“Not at all. It’s like living vicariously.”

“You say the weirdest things sometimes,” Laurel said ruefully.

“Yeah, that’s what David says too. Personally, I don’t think enough people say what they really think.”

“You definitely have a point there.”

“So, girlfriend or not?” Chelsea asked again, refusing to let it drop.

Laurel shrugged. “I really don’t know. Sometimes I think that’s what I want, but I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve never really even had a guy who was a close friend. I like it a lot…I don’t want to lose that part.”

“Maybe you won’t.”

“Maybe. I’m just not sure.”

“There could be fringe benefits,” Chelsea said.

“Like what?”

“If you guys were on kissing terms he might do your bio homework.”

“Tempting,” Laurel said. “I suck at bio.”

Chelsea grinned. “Yeah, that’s what he said.”

Laurel’s eyes widened. “He did not! Really?”

“It’s hardly a secret—you moan about it almost every day at lunch. I think he’d be a great boyfriend,” Chelsea added.

“Why are you encouraging this? Most people in your position would be trying to break us up.”

“I am
not
most people,” Chelsea said defensively. “Besides,” she continued in a lighter tone, “it would make him really happy. I like it when David’s happy.”

“I’m home,” Laurel yelled as she entered the house, tossed her backpack on the ground, and walked into the pantry in search of a jar of canned pears. Her mom came in a few minutes later as Laurel was nibbling on a pear half straight out of the jar. But instead of the “Mom look” Laurel usually got for not using a bowl, her mom only sighed and smiled wearily.

“Can you fend for yourself for dinner tonight?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Your dad’s just getting worse. His stomach hurts and is a little swollen, and now he’s got a fever. It’s not too high—around a hundred—but I can’t get it to go down. Not with cold compresses or a cool bath or even my hyssop and licorice-root capsules.”

“Really?” Laurel asked. Her mom had an herb for everything, and they worked wonders. Her friends often called her up when they were at the end of their ropes and the over-the-counter medications just weren’t cutting it. “Did you try giving him some Echinacea tea?” she suggested, since that was what her mom always gave her.

“Made him a whole batch of it, iced. But he’s having trouble swallowing, too, so I don’t know that he’s getting enough to help.”

“I bet it was something he ate,” Laurel suggested.

“Maybe,” her mom said distractedly, but she didn’t sound convinced. “He really took a turn for the worse right after you left. Anyway,” she added, snapping her head back to her daughter, “I’m going to spend the evening with him, see if I can make him a bit more comfortable.”

“No problem. I’ve got canned pears and a bunch of homework.”

“Exciting night for both of us.”

“Yep,” Laurel said with a sigh, looking over at the stack of books waiting for her on the table.

AFTER SCHOOL ON THURSDAY, LAUREL GRABBED HER
blue apron and headed down the street toward Mark’s Bookshelf. Jen, Brent, and Maddie—her dad’s staff—had been putting in extra shifts, but if things continued the way they’d been, all three would top forty hours by Friday. Laurel wanted to at least give Brent and Jen the day off. She and Maddie could manage. Maddie was the only employee Laurel’s dad had inherited from the former bookstore owner. Maddie had been working in that store for almost ten years now and, luckily, could about run the place herself.

But it wasn’t the bookstore Laurel worried about as she walked toward Main Street. She’d gone into her parents’ room to get some last-minute instructions from her dad and had been shocked by his appearance. Dad had always been on the thin side, but now his face was sunken and gray, with deep shadows under his eyes. His lips were pale and a thin sheen of sweat covered his brow. Laurel’s mom had tried everything.
Poultices of lavender and rosemary on his chest, fennel tea for his stomach, loads of vitamin C to strengthen his immune system. Nothing seemed to be working. She gave him brandy at night to help him sleep and dripped peppermint oil in the humidifier. Still no improvement. Not letting pride stand in her way, she had even tried a handful of conventional medications—NyQuil and Extra Strength Tylenol—and still he didn’t feel any better. What everyone had hoped was a nasty flu had turned serious far more quickly than her mom could have anticipated.

When Laurel volunteered to go to the bookstore that afternoon so her mom could stay home with her dad, her mom had hugged Laurel tightly and whispered thanks into her ear. He didn’t look like himself at all—more like a sickly caricature of the man he’d been only a few days ago. He’d tried to smile and joke the way he always did—always had—but even that was too much for him.

A cheerful chime sounded as Laurel opened the front door of the store.

Maddie looked up and smiled. “Laurel? You get prettier every time I see you.” She hugged her, and Laurel lingered in the embrace, feeling a little better. Maddie always smelled like cookies and spices and something else Laurel could never put her finger on.

“How’s your dad?” Maddie asked with an arm still around Laurel’s shoulders.

Her answer to everyone else had been a simple, “He’s okay.” But when Maddie asked, Laurel couldn’t just brush it off. “He
looks awful, Maddie. Like skin sitting loose on a skeleton. My mom can’t do anything to help. Nothing is working.”

“Even her hyssop and licorice root?”

Laurel smiled painfully. “That’s what I asked.”

“Well, it’s a miracle cure, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Not for Dad. Not this time, anyway.”

“I light a candle for him every night.” What licorice root and hyssop were to Laurel’s mom, candles were to Maddie. She was a devout Catholic who had a rack of candles in her front window and lit one for everything from a fellow parishioner dying of cancer to a neighborhood cat gone missing. Still, Laurel was grateful.

“Dad sent in a schedule for the rest of the week.”

Maddie laughed. “Sick in bed and still drawing up schedules—he must not be too close to death’s door.” She held out her hand. “Here, let’s have it.” Maddie studied the handwritten schedule. “He’s got us cutting business hours, I see.”

Laurel nodded. “There just aren’t enough employees to maintain regular hours.”

“That’s fine. I’ve been telling him for months it was silly to open at eight. Who wants to buy a book at eight o’clock in the morning?” She leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Truth be told, I don’t even like to be out of bed at eight o’clock in the morning.”

They worked the next few hours together cheerfully enough, both avoiding the subject of Laurel’s father. But he was never far from Laurel’s mind. She left Maddie finishing up the end-of-day paperwork and taped a sign to the door apologizing for the unscheduled closing of the store that weekend.

Laurel walked home slowly, her whole body tired after two hours of stocking box after box of books. As she rounded the last corner, she saw a large vehicle parked in her driveway. It took a few seconds to register what she was seeing, but her feet began to run the second she recognized the white and red ambulance. She burst through her front door just as the paramedics were coming down the stairs with her father on a stretcher, her mom only a step behind.

“What’s wrong with him?” Laurel asked, her eyes pinned to her father.

Tears were tracing lines down her mom’s face. “He started throwing up blood. I had to call.”

The stairs finally cleared enough for Laurel to reach her mom. She wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s fine, Mom. He’ll be glad you did.”

“He doesn’t trust doctors,” her mom said distractedly.

“That doesn’t matter. He needs this.”

Her mom nodded, but Laurel wasn’t sure she’d even heard her. “I have to go with him,” she said. “Only one person is allowed to ride in the ambulance. I think it’ll be better if I call you when he’s settled.”

“Yeah, go. I can take care of myself.”

She managed to get her mom’s purse hooked over her arm as she continued walking toward the ambulance, unaware of Laurel’s presence. She didn’t look back as the doors slammed shut.

Laurel watched the ambulance drive away and a sickening, squeezing sensation enveloped her stomach. Neither of her parents had ever been to the hospital in Laurel’s memory
except to visit someone. Laurel hadn’t wanted to believe this was more than an acute virus that would eventually pass on its own. But that didn’t seem to be the case.

She walked back into the house and pushed the door shut with both hands. The sound of it clicking into place seemed to echo through the front hallway. The house felt enormous and empty without her parents. She’d been home alone many times in the five months since they’d moved in, but tonight felt different. Frightening. Her hands shook as she turned the key to the deadbolt. She slid down the door and sat on the floor for a long time as the last bits of light left over from the sunset faded, leaving Laurel in murky blackness.

With the arrival of darkness came an unspoken permission to think dark thoughts as well. Laurel pushed herself to her feet and hurried to the kitchen, where she turned on every light before settling down at the dining room table. She pulled out her English assignment and tried to work through it, but after reading the first sentence, the letters swam before her eyes—meaningless gibberish.

She laid her head down on her book. Her thoughts wandered from the bookstore to Tamani to David, then back to her parents at the hospital and around and around until her eyes slowly closed.

A loud ringing jerked her from confusing, senseless dreams. She focused on the sound and managed to press the Talk button on the phone and rasp out a sleepy, “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie, it’s Mom.”

Laurel snapped all the way awake and squinted at her rumpled textbook. “What did they say?”

“They’re going to keep him overnight and give him antibiotics. We’ll have to wait and see what happens tomorrow.” She hesitated. “He’s not even in a room yet, and by the time he is, it will be late. Can you stay on your own tonight and come to see him tomorrow?”

Laurel wavered for a few seconds. She had the irrational feeling that if she went to the hospital, she could do something. But that was silly. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She forced a cheery tone into her voice. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Once again, Laurel was by herself in the empty house. Almost of their own accord, her fingers found David’s number. He said hello before she consciously realized she’d called him. “David?” she said, blinking. “Hi.” She looked over at the kitchen window where the moon was rising. She had no idea what time it was. “Can you come over?”

When the doorbell rang, Laurel ran to let David in. “I’m so sorry I called. I didn’t know how late it was,” she said.

“It’s okay,” David said, his hands firm on her shoulders. “It’s only ten, and my mom said I could be home whenever. Emergencies happen. What can I do?”

Laurel shrugged. “My mom’s gone and…I don’t want to be alone.”

David put his arms around her shoulders as she leaned into him. He held her in the foyer for several minutes while she curled against his chest, holding him for comfort. He felt so
solid and warm against her and she tightened her arms till they started to ache. For a little while, it seemed like maybe everything would be okay.

Finally she pulled away. She felt awkward after letting David hold her for so long. But he just smiled and walked over to the couch and picked up her guitar. “Who plays?” he asked, strumming a random chord. “Your dad?”

“No. Um…I do. I’ve never taken lessons or anything. Mostly I’ve just kind of figured things out on my own.”

“How is it that I didn’t know this?”

Laurel shook her head. “I’m not that good, really.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“About three years.” She took the guitar from him and balanced it on her knee. “I found it in the attic. It used to be my mom’s. She showed me the basic fingerings and I just kind of play by ear now.”

“Will you play something for me?”

“Oh, no,” Laurel said, pulling her fingers away from the strings.

“Please? I bet it would make you feel better.”

“Why do you think that?”

He shrugged. “You’re holding it so naturally. Like you really love it.”

Laurel’s hands stroked the neck. “I do. It’s really old. I like old things. They have…history, and stories.”

“So play.” David leaned back, his hands behind his head.

Laurel hesitated, then strummed the guitar softly, making small adjustments. Slowly her hands transitioned from tuning
chords to the soft melody of John Lennon’s “Imagine.” After the first verse, Laurel started singing the words slowly, softly. It seemed like an appropriate song tonight. As her fingers finished the final chord she sighed.

“Wow,” David said. “That was really beautiful.”

Laurel shrugged and laid the guitar back in its case.

“You didn’t tell me you sing, either.” He paused. “I’ve never heard anything like that before. It wasn’t like the way a pop star sings; it was just beautiful and calming.” He took her hand. “Feel better?”

She smiled. “I do. Thanks.”

David cleared his throat as he squeezed her hand. “So what now?”

Laurel looked around. There wasn’t much here for entertainment. “Want to watch a movie?”

David nodded. “Sure.”

Laurel chose an old musical where no one was sick and no one died.

“Singin’ in the Rain?”
David asked, wrinkling his nose a little.

Laurel shrugged. “It’s fun.”

“Your call.”

Fifteen minutes into the movie, David was laughing while Laurel just watched him—his silhouette brightened by the television screen. His face was in an almost-smile, and every once in a while he would tilt his head back and laugh. It was easy to forget about everything else when she was with him. Without stopping to think about her actions, Laurel scooted
closer. Almost instinctively, David lifted his arm and draped it around her shoulders. Laurel snuggled up against his ribs and laid her head on his chest. His arm tightened around her, and he leaned his head so his cheek rested against the crown of her head.

“Thanks for coming,” Laurel whispered with a smile.

“Anytime,” David said, his lips brushing her hair.

Laurel looked up when the chime sounded on the front door of the bookstore. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to smile at one more customer. But a smile of relief crossed her face when her eyes found David’s. “Hi,” she said, and set the stack of books she’d been sorting back on the table beside the shelf.

“Hey,” David said quietly. “How are you doing?”

Laurel forced herself to smile. “I’m alive.”

“Barely.” He hesitated. “How’s your dad?”

Laurel turned back to the shelf, trying to blink away her tears for about the fiftieth time that day. She felt David’s hands rubbing her shoulders and she leaned on him, letting herself relax, feeling better—safer. “They’re transferring him to Brookings Medical Center,” she whispered after a few minutes.

“Is he worse?”

“It’s hard to tell.”

David let his cheek rest against the top of her head.

The chime at the front door sounded again, and even though Jen hurried to help the customer, Laurel stepped away
and took a deep, shuddering breath to regain composure. “I need to get this done,” she said, picking up the small stack of books from the table. “The store closes in an hour, and I’ve got four more boxes to unload.”

“Let me help,” David said. “Just tell me where they go.” He grinned. “You can be the supervisor.” He took the stack of books from her and rubbed the shiny cover of the top one for a few seconds. “Maybe I could come in and help tomorrow too.”

“You have your own job. You have to pay for car insurance, you told me.”

“I don’t care about my stupid insurance, Laurel.” His voice was sharp and he paused before continuing in a soft, calm tone. “This is the first time all week I’ve seen you for more than lunch or during class. I miss you,” he said with a shrug.

Laurel hesitated.

“Please?”

Laurel relented. “Fine, but only till my dad’s better.”

“That’ll be soon, Laurel. They have great specialists in Brookings; they’ll figure out what’s wrong.” He grinned. “You’ll be lucky if you get a whole week’s worth of labor out of me.”