Swans Landing #1 - Surfacing (25 page)

His lips found mine again and his hand pressed against the back of my head, pulling me deeper into his kiss. He led me down a narrow hall to his room. It was dark and the air was cool and soothing. I let my jacket slip over my arms and fall to the floor. Then I stepped out of my shoes and crawled onto his bed, slipping easily between the sheets as Josh joined me. He was warm and solid against me, his embrace comforting the whirlwind of thoughts in my head.

“I’ve never felt as whole as I do with you,” he whispered, cupping my face in his hands. The shadowy light in the room made his eyes look deeper, like dark pools of water that I could fall into forever.

He completed me, filled a piece of me that had always been missing. In this strange life we led, torn between two worlds, he was the one person who knew exactly how it felt to be me, to go through the same things I had.

“Josh?” I whispered.

“Yes?”

“Can you sing the finfolk song for me?” My hands trembled as they traced up the curve of his arms. “So I can see my mom again?”

He kissed me, then laid his head down on the pillow and began to sing in a low, soft voice.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was the first restful sleep I’d had in a long time.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept, only that the sky had begun to darken outside Josh’s bedroom windows when my eyes fluttered open.

No nightmares had plagued my sleep. I didn’t even remember dreaming. Rolling over, I found Josh still sleeping at my side, one arm draped over me. He snored softly from his slightly open mouth. A deep, peaceful sleep. I traced the curve of his jawbone with my fingers and smiled.

His room smelled like him. His salty, musky scent surrounded me and I breathed deep. While he slept, I took the opportunity to survey Josh’s room for any insight into his inner workings. A few random pictures hung on the deep green walls. One photo was of what must have been his mom and dad and himself as a baby, and the others were all posters of his favorite musicians or various beach landscape pictures like you’d buy at a home decor store. Except one.

Sitting up, I examined the picture on the wall opposite from the bed. It was a beach landscape, like the others. But unlike the others, this one wasn’t sketched or painted.

Instead it was made up of tiny shells and bits of glass.

Moving at a snail’s pace, I eased myself from Josh’s side and slipped from the bed. When I moved closer, the intricate detail that had gone into making the picture was obvious. The blue and white shells of the ocean blended perfectly to look like waves crashing onshore. The shells that formed the sand weren’t just brown, but every conceivable shade of brown, tan, beige, gold. The sailboat on the horizon actually looked as if the wind blew it across the water. It must have taken the artist hours to create. Something only someone very skilled in working with shells would have been capable of.

I blinked at the picture, trying to make sense of it. Dylan’s words from that first day I’d come here drifted through my memory. “
He made this really cool picture of the beach, with foam on the water and a boat on the horizon. It’s made entirely out of shells and glass
.”

But why would Josh have Lake’s picture?

My gaze moved over to the corner of the picture, in which a figure walked along the beach. A small, dark woman, with wild hair. And in her arms, something that looked like a smaller figure, a baby perhaps. Next to that, etched into the edge of the frame were the letters
L.W.

“Mmm,” came a moan from the bed. Josh rolled over, rubbing at his eyes. “What time is it?”

I retrieved my jacket from the floor, suddenly chilled, as I tried to sort out the reasons that Josh might have Lake’s artwork.

“So that’s an interesting picture,” I said casually, gesturing toward the wall.

Josh’s eyes flickered toward the picture, then down to the floor. “Yeah,” he said. “It was my mom’s. Someone gave it to her years ago.”

“And now it’s yours,” I said.

Josh shrugged. “She didn’t want it. It seemed like a shame to throw it away. It obviously took a lot of time to create.”

I could tell that Josh suspected I knew who had created the picture, but neither of us said anything.

“Do you know who that is supposed to be?” I asked, pointing at the little figures in the corner.

“No,” Josh said. “Just a person, I guess.”

If anyone but Lake had created it, it might have been just a person. A random person from their imagination holding a baby. But something tingled inside of me and I couldn’t help wondering if maybe, just maybe it was meant to be my mom and me.

But if it was, why had Lake given it away? He couldn’t stand to keep a reminder of us around? If he threw out all evidence that we existed, then maybe he could live peacefully and pretend that we never had. Because of course, that would be easier than actually trying to reconcile with Mom or being a dad.

The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed down the hall toward us. Josh’s eyes widened.

“Is it after six already?” He looked over his shoulder at the door, then turned back, scanning his room. “You need to get out of here.”

“I have to walk back out there to get out.”

Josh headed to the window and pulled the blinds back. But escaping out of his window wouldn’t work as it had at Dylan’s. There was no wraparound deck I could climb onto. Josh let out a sigh, but he didn’t look any less agitated than before. “Maybe I can distract her and you can slip by.”

“Is your mom going to kill you if she finds a girl in your room?” I asked.

Josh bit his lip. “Not just any girl,” he said at last. “
You.
”

What was wrong with me?

Josh peeked out of his bedroom door. We could hear his mom walking around in the kitchen.

“This is ridiculous,” I told him. “You’re seventeen years old. It’s time to stop being afraid of your mom.”

Josh hesitated. My rationale had little effect on his panic. “Stay here. I’ll try to figure out a way to distract her so you can leave. All right?”

I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Fine.”

Josh disappeared down the hall, calling, “Mom? How was your doctor’s appointment?”

“Josh?” I heard a woman answer back. “I didn’t think you were home. The house was dark and quiet.”

“I was taking a nap. I’m a little tired today.”

What did he mean by, it wasn’t just any girl that his mom would have a problem with, but me? His mom didn’t even know me. I could have passed his mom a thousand times a day and wouldn’t have known who she was.

“I decided to cancel my appointment,” his mom said. “So I went shopping instead. Want to see what I bought?”

“And where exactly did you get the money to go shopping?”

“I had some extra change lying around.”

“Mom.” Josh sounded angry. “You can’t keep canceling appointments. You need to see the doctor. You need your medicines.”

“I am not a child, Joshua,” his mom snapped. “I can make decisions about my own health. And if I think I don’t need the pills anymore, I’m not taking them.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Josh said. “You know you have to take the pills so you don’t have another incident.”

Cabinet doors slammed. “Drop it, Josh. This isn’t your concern.”

My curiosity got the best of me. I moved toward the door, peeking out into the hall. Josh and his mom were still in the kitchen, but out of sight, so I crept down the hall a little to move closer.

“I’m the only one who is concerned around here,” Josh said. His voice was tight, as if he held back anger and sadness. “The bills aren’t getting paid. Your pills sit untouched. You’re spending money we don’t have on things we don’t need. I’m the one who has had to watch you fall apart slowly over the years.”

“Dammit, Joshua, I am
not
crazy!” His mom’s voice rose to a shrill shriek. “I know what
those people
are trying to do to us. They walk around here like they have no care in the world, like their hands are completely clean of blood. They are the
reason
your father is dead. Don’t forget that.”

“Mom, I think—”

But I didn’t hear what Josh thought because the floor creaked as I stepped forward. Josh and his mom both turned, their gazes falling on me standing in the hall.

And as my eyes met Mrs. Canavan’s, I realized that I did in fact know her.

Because she was the woman who had stood in Lake’s front yard, screaming and throwing rocks. The same woman who had haunted me that day on the bus when I first came to Swans Landing.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Josh’s face paled, but his mom stared at me unblinking for a moment. Her hair stuck out crazily around her brown face, giving her a young, confused look. Finally, she seemed to make sense of my standing there and her eyes narrowed into a look of rage, her nostrils flaring.

“You brought
her
here?” Mrs. Canavan asked, pointing at me. “You brought that filth into my home?”

I stepped back, stung.

“I thought you’d be gone all day,” Josh said.

“So that makes it okay for you to bring that half-breed here?”

Now I was the one turning red with anger. “Half-breed?” I’d been called various names over the years, but never anything as insulting as “half-breed.”

Josh stepped between us, facing his mother. “Don’t call her that,” he said through clenched teeth. “She didn’t have anything to do with what happened.”

“Her kind did,” Mrs. Canavan insisted. Bits of spit flew from her mouth as she raged, stomping in circles on the other side of the kitchen and waving her hands wildly. “I will not let you make the same mistakes your father did.” She lunged forward, but Josh stopped her before she could reach me. “You hear me? Stay away from my son!”

“I’m the same thing she is, Mom,” Josh said.

Her finger shook when she pointed at him. “No, you’re not! Don’t
ever
say that. You are not one of them!”

Mrs. Canavan swooped away from Josh’s arms and grabbed one of the glasses we’d drank milk from earlier. I barely had time to duck before the glass came flying by my head, shattering against the wall behind me. Bits of glass sprayed across the top of my head and tangled in my hair.

“Go,” Josh said to me as he held his mother pinned against the counter, despite her kicking and screaming obscenities at me.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was out the door and stumbling down the stairs before I remembered to breathe. Rage and fear pulsed through my veins, fighting for control, but I bit my lip hard and tried to hold them back until I turned the corner, leaving Josh’s house behind me. Girls like Elizabeth were easy to handle, but I didn’t know how to deal with a woman like Mrs. Canavan.

My feet pounded on the darkened streets as I raced away from Josh’s house. A car blared its horn at me, nearly running me over as night settled over the village. When I reached Lake’s house, I collapsed onto the bottom step of the long staircase. I bent over, pressing my face into my knees, and let whichever emotion was stronger win control.

Hot tears fell down my cheeks, wetting my jeans. My shoulders shook with sobs until my throat hurt. More than ever before, I wanted my mom beside me. I wanted someone to hug me and tell me everything was okay, that I didn’t have to be here with people that didn’t want me around. That I had never needed anyone other than myself.

My hands reached inside my jacket, but it was empty. My camera! I had left it in Josh’s room.

My cries grew louder at this loss. I couldn’t go back there to get it, not with his mom wanting to kill me.

“Good lord, child, what are you doing crying out here in the cold?”

Through blurry tears I saw Miss Gale standing in front of me, a plastic bowl propped up on her hip and her silver hair shining in the light of the neighbor’s outdoor lamp.

I scrubbed at my eyes with the backs of my hands. “I wasn’t crying. The cold wind is making my eyes water.”

“That wind may be cold, but not cold enough to turn your face into a broken water spigot,” Miss Gale told me. She set the bowl down and then turned around to sit, groaning as she lowered herself onto the step at my side.

“Now,” Miss Gale said, planting her hands on the knees of her blue and green watercolor print pants, “what’s ailing you? And don’t try to give me no nonsense about it being ‘nothing.’ I’ve raised two teenage girls and I know when it’s nothing or something. And that—” She pointed at my tear stained face. “—is most definitely
something
.”

I stared down at my feet, trying to think of what to say to Miss Gale. I didn’t want to tell her about what had happened that day with Josh and why I was at his house, in his room.

“I lost my camera,” I said at last.

Miss Gale pressed her lips together as she nodded. “Okay, that’s a start. Now why is that upsetting you this much?”