Before You Go (YA Romance) (2 page)

“For how long?”

“She’s supposed to be gone most of the summer, but she’s coming back July Fourth. There’s this party at the island’s hotel…”
  

Whatever he said next, she didn’t hear it. The tip-tapping of the misting rain swelled to a dull roar. Or maybe that was the blood inside her head. She looked down at her feet, the suede gladiator sandals she’s bought the week before. She smoothed her favorite dress, wrinkled now, from being crammed into horrible, stifling coach. Out of nowhere, she thought about the last summer. That balmy night she and her father had sat on the back porch in Napa, listening to the crickets sing.

“You need to meet your mother,” he’d said.

And that’s what she’d thought, from the day he’d flat-lined, lost to cancer. She needed to meet her mother. She had felt certain, when the plane came for her—Cindy Zhu’s plane, taking her away from her old life, to the boarding school Cindy had chosen—that her mother would be on it.
But no.
They’d met in Atlanta, to—what else?—sign papers. Their time together had lasted less than ten minutes, and while it had made her an official heiress, it had left her with a lonely, drifting feeling.

She’d heard nothing from her— from
Cindy
until back in May, when Raul, head of Cindy’s security, had phoned to let her know, in his crisp, Moroccan accent, that there was a plot to kidnap her, and that she’d be spending the second half of the summer on her mother’s island.

And then Cindy’s letter:

I hope your time spent with the
Timberdime
family is pleasant.
Enclosed, your tickets from Reno-Tahoe to San Juan.
A private plane will take you from that airport to my Isle of Isis. The observatory staff is preparing for you.

-
       
CZ

Cold.
Impersonal.
Now Margo understood why.

Her mother hadn’t urged Margo to come to her summer residence so they could get to know each other. She’d never even planned on being there. Margo would be alone on the island.
Babysat by a bunch of astronomers, geeks slaving away at a dreary astronomical observatory.
She’d be out of harm’s way, and out of her mother’s, too.

She must have looked as unhappy as she felt, because Logan clasped her hand and tugged her under the hangar. His fingers curled around hers, hot and hard. “I can get you there. A small plane’s not so bad if you’ve got a decent pilot.”

She stared into his blue eyes, so…kind. “And you’re decent?”

“Not
decent
.” He winked. “I’m good.”

His fingers slid from hers, touching down on the small of her back as they turned toward the plane.
Miss Louise
. She was beige with a blue stripe down her middle. “You
ever been
in a Cessna 152?”

Margo shook her head.

“Climb inside. I’ll show you around.”

Logan opened a small, square door and Margo scooted to her seat. Her eyes fell on the confusing bevy of controls and her stomach clenched. Was she really doing this? Flying in this tiny plane with this random guy to an island filled with strangers?

I have to.
Cindy was the only family she had left. Her father’s people had scattered after his funeral; no one wanted to be left with a 5’2 piece of baggage.

While she was hurting from that particular betrayal, Logan climbed in, filling the cabin with his wide shoulders. She had the unnerving feeling that he was assessing her in some way. It was confirmed when he asked, “Don’t like to fly?”

“Am I that obvious?”

He pulled a towel from under his seat and passed it to her. “You look a little pale.”

She wiped her cheeks and neck.
“Yeah.
I’m…tired. And you’re right,” she ’fessed. “I’m not a fan of planes.
Especially small ones.”

She held out the towel, and he stashed it in the little box between their seats. “Why don’t you buckle in?” he asked as he put on a headset. “Once we get going, I’ll show you how things work.
Makes it easier.”

Margo fumbled with her seatbelt, her hands shaking so badly she couldn’t get it snapped. Too soon the plane was rumbling, and they were rolling out of the hangar. She got her belt clicked just as
Miss Louise
lumbered forward, wheels bouncing over the narrow airstrip.

As she looked out the window at the dim, rain-darkened buildings, the gloomy landscape seemed to mock her. Tears blurred the runway. Her chest hurt, like she’d swallowed something sharp.

“Hey.” Logan’s voice was gentle, the kiss of air you used to soothe a horse. “It’s
gonna
be okay.”

Margo nodded, shutting her eyes until she felt the last bump of the runway, and smooth air stretched out under them. Gravity tugged her, and the waterworks started up again.

She was looking at her manicured nails when he spoke. “We’re about to pop over the clouds. You’ll be able to see the moon. Just hang on.”

Hang on. Isn’t that all she’d been doing for the last year now? Hanging on? Margo swallowed hard, and heard herself say, “I think I want to go back.
To the airport.”

She put a cold hand to her cheek, so he wouldn’t see her weird expression when she cried. He couldn’t see—but he could hear her.

“What’s the matter?”

He was pressing levers, twisting knobs. The dashboard lights twinkled through her fingers, which were covering her face. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“What?”

“Go to Isis.” She pulled her hand off her face and fiddled with her seatbelt, too embarrassed to look at him. She unclasped her buckle, an empty gesture.
 

“Why not?”

At that moment, the plane’s nose poked through the wall of clouds, and there was the moon, a glowing ball in an indigo sky.

“We’re just coasting now. You’ve got all my ears.”

All his ears... Who
was
this guy? Margo sneaked a glance at him, surprised by how ordinary he looked.
Just a guy—okay, a hot guy—wearing dirty jeans and a dirty shirt.
Why was he being so nice to her?

She smoothed the wrinkled fabric of her dress over her thighs. When she glanced at him, his eyes held hers.

“It’s nothing really. I just…don’t know my— Cindy terribly well.”
Deep breath.
Some way to spin it?
“We were kind of…distant when my dad died.”

He nodded lightly, like she was talking about something important and he was following.

“I wanted to spend some time with her this summer. Get to know her. But now she’s not even here, and I wish I could just go back to Tahoe, but I can’t because my best friend’s family is going to Europe and I have nowhere else to go. My dad was his family’s black sheep, and they don’t keep in touch. Coming here—coming to an observatory—seems ridiculous. I mean, why would I? I don’t even get why this is Cindy’s summer home. Why an observatory when she has so many other houses?”
Deep breath.
She was going to explain the kidnapping plot, but decided against.

Logan nodded. No surprise, no pity.

“Maybe I should just…I don’t know. I could stay for a little while. Until I find out at least something—about Cindy. I don’t know.” She sighed again, and belatedly remembered:
Neither a huff nor a sigh apply, for a lady who wants to be polite.

She glanced at Logan, worried she’d turned him off. Since she’d started at Kerrigan, Margo hadn’t exactly been a people-magnet—and she wondered if maybe the reason was…this. Without her dad, she had this... Well, she didn’t know what it was exactly, but it felt like a rubber band twisting in her chest. No matter how hard she tried—to have fun, to move on—she couldn’t seem to make it stop pinching. So she was always kind of glum. And glum was the last thing guys wanted.

She held her breath as the silence spun out. She trained her ears on the rumbling motor sound, in case he didn’t speak.
In case it was going to be silence from here on out.

She jumped when he spoke: “Do you ride?
Horses?”

That was random. Random but seriously welcome.
Margo nodded, maybe a little bit too hard.

“We’ve got stables on Isis. I work there in the day. Maybe I could show you around?”

A soothing
warmth spread through her chest.
If she had a friend…
“That might work out.” She glanced at him, suddenly shy. “You like to ride?”

“Grew up on a farm.”

“Really?”
She’d never met a real farmer, or the son of one. Not unless you
counted
 
viticulturists
.

“My dad’s a
cropduster
.” His dark brows
raised
. “You
know,
chemicals on crops?”

She knew. In California that was considered terribly unhealthy. But she nodded like it was just fine. “And you’re a pilot for the island?”

“You could say that.”

She found her mouth tugging up into a smile. “If you didn’t say that, what else could you say?”

“
Hmmmm
…” His eyebrows wiggled, and he grinned around the headset microphone. “I guess you could say I’m kind of a modern-day Jedi.”

She laughed.
Actually laughed in that awful little plane.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi is pretty much my all-time hero. And,” she grinned proudly, “I had a horse named R2D2.”

His jaw dropped, and he lifted one thick hand to point at his chest.
“
Yoda
.
You believe that?”

“No. Well,” she checked, eyes rolling over his t-shirt and mud-smeared jeans, “I believe you have a horse.”

“I’m
gonna
take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” She beamed. “My black stallion was named Rhett.”

He laughed again, and she felt lifted by the sound. “Come over here.” He patted the wooden box between their seats. “I’ll show you how she works.”

The blue of the sky was deepening, afternoon purple to a coat of nighttime blue. The moon seemed to twinkle, full and bright. Logan smiled again, and for a moment, Margo felt impervious.

He grabbed her hand, and she burned from inside out. She got so hot she had to fidget, and her knee brushed his thigh by accident. He looked at her, long enough for it to maybe
be
a
look
, and nodded at the dials. He pointed to one near the middle and she followed his finger, nearly breathless with the thrill of being close to him.

“This one here’s especially for cloudy weather.” He pointed to another. “And this tells us our altitude.”

As if to demonstrate, the plane bumped. Her heart
lurched,
leaping forward like it could catch them, as the gauge jumped.

“It’s okay—”

They bumped again, bumpier this time.
And then again.
Logan worked the controls, and Margo tried to tell herself it was just turbulence. Then the engine coughed. The plane arched. Her head smacked the rear window and she yelped as something bumped the windshield. She saw a flash of white and what might have been feathers.
 

Okay, that was definitely feathers.
 

“Buckle in. I’ll get us straight.” He sounded so confident, that low voice so lazy, she almost forgot to be afraid. Then a bird slammed into the windshield and she heard a crunching sound.