The Storm and the Darkness (16 page)

“And you’re scared as shit to crash in one. You’ve never sailed
Forbia
. You don’t run the plow. I’m not saying you’re a pussy Jon, but….you’re
kind of a pussy
.”

“You are no more qualified than I am to drive it,” was the best Jon could come up with.

“And you’re no more qualified to fly a plane than I am, but who would you rather trust your life to if the pilot suddenly died?”

“Fuzzy logic, at best. Besides, it might take a while, and if Ana wakes up, she’s going to want you there.”

“You can be there, right? You did it before with no problem,” Finn teased, both of them remembering Jon’s discomfort. He had sat there, hands in his lap, staring at various things in the room off and on for hours. He would get up for a drink, come back, fidget some more. Jon supposed talking to her would have been a better way to pass the time, but he could think of absolutely nothing to say. His awkwardness apparently extended even to unconscious women. And yes…maybe that was also a part of why he offered to go.

Before he could say anything, Finn was already out the door, apparently off to see if he could get the snowcat fueled and fired up.

College graduation. Everyone was there; her family, her fellow students from the past four years, good and bad; her friends; her sorority sisters. Everyone who was anyone in her life was packed into the crowded stadium.

Ana sat clutching her degree amidst the laughter, applause, anecdotes, and nervous speeches. She could have been giving the valedictorian speech. No one but Nicolas knew that she had intentionally dropped her grade point average by a fraction to avoid standing in front of thousands of people. Her comfort meant more than a silly title.

She fidgeted, as the familiar wave of panic rushed over her. The sounds around her were hardly loud, but in her heart and chest they were deafening. Her head pulsed with every new round of applause; every name called. She was grateful for her chair because the dizziness was rolling in and out, like the flow of an ocean tide. What she wouldn’t give to use her ability to control her anxiety…she could heal anything physical that afflicted her but she could not soothe her own mind.

“Just keep your eyes on me Muffins,” Nicolas had said before the ceremony, using his private nickname for her; it was meant with the irony it suggested. She hadn’t asked him for help; hadn’t said how nervous she was or how she knew she was going to be anxious, he had just known. If they didn’t have two very different sets of parents, she would have sworn they were twins.

She tried to do exactly as he suggested, but she kept losing him in the sea of faces. He had deliberately worn a bright pink shirt (much to the dismay of the rest of the family) to make this easier for her, but the crowd seemed endless and not even a loud shirt could stand out.

She squeezed her toes tightly into her shoes, just one of a half-dozen private ways she controlled her stress. That not bringing relief, she tried thrusting her tongue firmly against the roof of her mouth: inhaling, exhaling. The few times she was called to accept something at the podium were the easiest because it kept her mind focused on controlling each step, one foot in front of the other. When she was idle, it was much harder.

After the ceremony, her family crowded around her with words of encouragement and pride, but it wasn’t until she felt her cousin’s hand slip into hers that her heartbeat slowed some and the normalcy returned. She accepted hugs and returned kisses in a blur of familial comfort, while holding tightly to his hand.

“You
are
normal,” Nicolas said to her once. “And if you’re not, then we’re all seriously fucked because if everyone else is normal and
that’s
the standard, we might as well start preparing for the zombie apocalypse.”

“Well, start preparing fucker, because it’s coming,” she had said.

Oftentimes, she had no idea the point he was trying to get across with the things he said. But it didn’t matter, because she laughed; reassuring her, not wit or humor, was Nicolas’ real intention.
 

Ana was never one to label herself anyway; it was the years of therapy, and her father’s failed attempts to understand, that had done that. She might have allowed a label if any of them had fit, but no one had come close to covering all the corners of her complicated mind. Complicated was not a word she used to flatter herself, and it had little do with the family she came from…she would have always preferred to be simpler, even if Nicolas assured her that people like
that
were harbingers of doom.

The graduation party was next. Ana mentally steeled herself to exercise yet another social skill she lacked: small talk.

Nicolas gifted her a few moments of sanity by telling the family he would drive her over. In the car, he didn’t bother telling her how nice she looked, or how proud he was. He knew she didn’t need to hear that from him. He said only, “I’m bouncing tonight if the beer sucks.”

He had never failed her. Never let her down, never abandoned her; had always been there in the moments she was most afraid. So why, why was he not there now, when she was in the darkest place she had ever known, why?

Ana opened her eyes.

Nicolas never paid much mind to his own expenses, but he was hard pressed to believe that, in this day and age, there was anywhere in this country still charging for long distance; and anyway he had asked Alex to tell her she could always call collect.

Adrienne called him a couple times to see if he knew anything, but Nicolas told her he wasn’t worried. Ana and Adrienne were very similar creatures, except that Ana had never been through anything life changing and traumatic like Adrienne had. Adrienne was healing, but Adrienne would always be broken. Nicolas and Oz had an unspoken, shared fear that certain stressors would break her again, and that this time she would run off for good. He would not trouble her with his concerns…especially considering they were of the potential missing person variety. Too close to home.

Nicolas met Oz for drinks several days after Oz’s peculiar visit. It was Oz’s idea, and despite how things had turned out the last time they hung out, Nicolas was relieved both when Oz suggested it, and also when he acted as though
nothing at all had happened
. This was just as well for Nicolas, who had bigger things on his mind than his friend’s mood swings.
 

It didn’t take long before Oz–in his usual quiet diplomatic way–confronted
him
and asked if something was wrong with Ana.
Oz knows me too well
.

“I think something…has happened, yes,” Nicolas said cautiously.

Oz eyed him. “Something…has…happened?” He echoed.

“Ah, fuck, I don’t fucking know,” Nicolas said, dropping his guard. “It’s been eight days. We haven’t gone that long without talking in years, and she called me
every goddamn day
since she got to Maine. That dumb-fuck overseer told me she was just fine, and over at the neighbor’s house or some shit, but his story was just really fucking weird, Ozzy, like he was hiding something.”

Oz leaned over his beer Nicolas so could not see his expression. Nicolas half expected Oz to try offering a reasonable explanation to what was happening, but he seemed to understand that wasn’t what Nicolas was after. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question every day for a week, Ozzy. So far none of the answers are working out for me.”

“Have you thought of just going up there?” Oz’s eyes were wild again suddenly, the way they had been the last time they met.

Nicolas snorted. “Fuck yes I have. You know I have. I can get a flight into Boston or Portland, but the island is shut down. None of the ferries are running, and I can’t find someone who will charter me over.”

“Well, that has to change soon, right? People can’t be stuck on an island for forever without someone helping out,” Oz said confidently. When Nicolas looked up at him, Oz dropped his eyes, looking back down at his drink.

“You’d think Ozzy, but you’d be wrong. One of the guys I talked to said there are winters where the ferries don’t run at all after the first storm hits. They
prepare
for this shit,” he said, knocking his fist on the bar. “You know, it’s times like this that make me consider investing in a private plane.”

Oz gave him a half-hearted smile. “Right, because if you had one, you’d know exactly what to do with it.”

“That’s what a fucking
pilot
is for, Ozzy.”

Nicolas felt better after talking to Oz, even though he was no closer to figuring out what he wanted to do. Subsequent calls to Alex Whitman went unreturned. He knew he should go up there anyway and try to throw his weight around. Even if he didn’t find a way to Summer Island, he would at least feel a little bit less useless than he felt sitting around here scratching his ass.

As if reading his mind, Oz said, with a touch of nervousness in his voice, “If you want, we could go up there. You and me, I mean.”

“What about Adrienne?” The rest of the question was left unspoken.

“She will be fine for a few days,” Oz said, sounding more as if he was trying to convince himself.

“Hey, you need a few days off. I’m not judging!” Nicolas threw his hands up with a laugh.

Oz rolled his eyes, but then dropped them again and said nothing. Nicolas had touched a nerve, but this time he didn’t think that troubles with Adrienne were what was on his friend’s mind. Oz had been acting weird for a while...since Ana had left, really. Despite his overriding concern for Ana, Nicolas could not deny his interest in figuring out what was going on with Oz. Especially now when, of all things, Oz offered to join him.

“If I can help out at all, even just by being your incredibly handsome and charming wingman, then that’s more useful than I’ve felt at home lately,” Oz answered, still inspecting his beer.

“Let me think about it,” Nicolas said, but he had already thought about it and decided. Though he was still concerned for her safety, a small part of him had begun to wonder if her elusiveness was not personal.
 
If she wasn’t trying to send him a message, of sorts. If that were to happen–if he were to show up, only to find that she had been intentionally avoiding him–then, selfishly, he wanted Oz there to help soften the blow.

You know Ana. She’s always preferred to be alone,
Adrienne had said to Nicolas, when he was the one who was supposed to be reassuring her.

Yes, but she’s always made an exception for me,
Nicolas thought, but did not say, to his sister. They had faced everything together, hand in hand, presenting a united front against the world. They had never needed anything but each other, and she had never once shown any indication that this bothered her.

No,
Nicolas concluded,
something is definitely wrong. She would never shut me out.

Nicolas decided they would need to leave right away. He would have his assistant make the arrangements. In the meantime, there was someone he needed to visit first.

Alex could make excuses all day about the weather outside, but as long as he was in his house doing nothing, he was as guilty as the St. Andrews boys.
Who knows what they’ve done to her due to my inaction
, he thought with a shudder.

“We’re gonna see dat boy on the news one day,” Alex’s mother had said about Jon, years ago. She shook her head, as if there were some things in life that couldn’t be helped. “That poor Claire...one child is hell’s spawn, the other a future serial killer.” Angela Whitman was wrong about a lot of things, but Alex had never forgotten those words. And neither brother had ever done a single thing that would change his opinion for the better. True, Jon was kind to animals, and Finn was always the first to help Mrs. Auslander plow her driveway, but Alex knew that bad people were not
all
bad. Everyone had something nice you could say about them. His mother had taught him that, too. It was why she never left Alex’s father, Bill, even when he beat her so badly she could no longer stand upright.

I couldn’t save you, and I couldn’t save the others, but I
will
save
Ana. Alex’s gut told him that there was still time…and if there wasn’t, and, god forbid he came too late...well, he would not let Jon or Finn get away with it. He would not fail like Sheriff Horn undoubtedly would if standing in Alex’s long-trodden shoes.

The calls with Nicolas Deschanel were eating at him, too. There was a change in the man’s voice at the end of their last call, one that made Alex wonder if his lie was really so convincing after all.
No matter. He can’t do anything for her. No one is getting on or off this island for a long time.

The Auslanders radioed him earlier that afternoon, telling him that Finn had fired up Andrew’s old snowcat and headed north.
Where that boy is goin’ is anyone’s guess
, Gertrude said, but Alex was sure he knew. The only thing that would get people out of their homes risking their neck on the roads was a lack of resources. Finn was probably heading toward the town food storage, which coincidentally connected with Alex’s property. The island was not large by any means, but those vehicles were slow as mud, and not meant for long treks. He estimated that Finn would make it there by late afternoon or nightfall, and returning at that time would be hazardous.
 

It was a given that Alex would watch for him. The bigger question looming in his mind was whether or not he would offer Finn his hospitality, and give him a room for the night. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t. He had squandered enough time already, and Finn’s trek toward Alex’s backyard would force Alex into action.

Alex sat upstairs in his study, fidgeting. The window fogged from his hot tea and it made him sleepy. Finn would be here sometime today, and Alex would need to have a plan. And what if Finn wouldn’t make eye contact when he asked if he had seen the girl…or if Alex shuffled his feet and lost his words? What would Alex do then? Hold Finn against his will? Call the sheriff? Go out to the house himself, where the crazier brother was still holding poor Ana hostage? What then?