The Islanders (16 page)

For a long while, neither of them spoke. Then her father, in a dull monotone, said, “There was no conclusive evidence.”

“Until now. Now I remember.”

And not before? Or had the truth always been there, just below the surface of her dreams? Why else had she been so frightened when Lucas reappeared? Why else had it been so important to get rid of him? Had she sensed somehow that his coming would prod her guilty memory?

Fear. That's what she had felt, learning he was back. Unreasoning fear. She'd done her best to shut him out. And in her fear she'd turned away from Benjamin, probing, suspicious Benjamin, and felt herself drawn to Jake. Jake would be her ally against the common foe. Safe, dependable Jake.

“Old Officer Talbot, hell, you know they send the old cops over here to take it easy till retirement,” her father said, gazing at her with unfocused eyes. “He'd been at a desk since the eighties,
hadn't investigated anything for years. But he was bound and determined, it was a crime, dammit, someone had to pay.”

“It should have been me,” Claire whispered.

“Everyone knew the Cabral kid had been in trouble before. What was it to him? He'd have ended up in jail sooner or later.”

“Oh, God.”

“At first it was Lucas's own idea, do what he must have figured was the manly thing: protect his girlfriend by taking the rap for her. For you.” Her father nodded. “It was probably the only really gutsy thing he'd ever done. But I was worried sooner or later someone would think about it: Why was he the only one not hurt? The driver's side of that car was crushed like a beer can. Only someone small could have been behind that wheel and survived. The McRoyan kid was six three. Lucas Cabral was smaller, but he'd at least have been badly hurt, not untouched.” For the first time he met her gaze. “No. I couldn't be sure it was you driving, sweetheart, but it was most likely, and if I could figure it out, so could someone else.”

“I remember now,” Claire said in a faraway voice. “The door was popped open by the impact and Lucas had to get my seat to recline before he could get me out. I could barely breathe from the wheel pressing against me.”

“I told Lucas I thought he was taking it like a man, confessing to what he'd done.” Her father hung his head. “I told him
I hoped he would have the guts to stick to his story. We never really admitted out loud that he was innocent. He never claimed he was, and I really didn't want to know for sure that he was.” He closed his eyes and sighed profoundly. “Still, we reached an agreement. His father's business had been slipping for a while, lots of problems with the boat, prices for lobster were at rock bottom. Cabral was a razor's edge away from losing his boat altogether. I told Lucas I'd be able to help with that.”

“Oh, God, Daddy,” Claire whispered.

“I didn't think he'd go to jail,” her father said sadly. “Everyone figured he'd just get a slap on the wrist, being a juvenile and all. You have to believe that. I didn't think . . . And it was easy to see how shaken up he was when the judge handed down the sentence. But he took that, too, and just as they were leading him out of the courtroom he said to me, ‘Don't worry, Mr. Geiger. I keep my promises.'”

“All this time,” Claire whispered. “He thinks I knew. He thinks I've let this happen to him, that I just abandoned him. It's sickening. I feel like throwing up.”

Her father's gaze was steely. “I do whatever I have to to protect you. Whatever. Even perjury.”

“Perjury?” she asked, uncomprehending.

“That's what they'd call it, I imagine: subornation of perjury. If you ever told anyone what we've just discussed, I might
even wind up in jail myself.”

“He went to jail to protect me, and to save his father,” Claire whispered.

Her father smiled bitterly. “People do all sorts of things to protect the ones they love.”

Claire felt the weight of his words settle on her. Yes, people did all sorts of things to protect the ones they loved.

And now, it would be her turn.

“You know I love you, honey,” her father said.

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

 

 

Zoey stared thoughtfully at the list. Things had definitely improved for Lucas, she realized. Definite, major improvement. But when she'd made the first list, she hadn't really known Lucas, not like she did now.

She snapped off the little lamp over her desk and gazed out the window. The moon was so bright, it must be full. The cobblestones were painted silver; the shadows were soft and benign.

She craned her neck out of the small window to try to get a glimpse of the Cabrals' deck. Too bad her window didn't face the other way. Then maybe she could look up at him, and he'd be able to see her down below if he stepped out onto his balcony.

Maybe he was already asleep, possibly even dreaming of her. Was he a guy who would dream? Probably. He was thoughtful and intelligent and romantic, even though he tried to hide it under typical male toughness.

Yes, he certainly dreamed. And if he did dream, why not of her? She was certain she would dream of him. Oh, definitely; in fact, it was the best reason ever for going to sleep early.

At least in their dreams they wouldn't have to worry about how Jake would react—no guilt, no feeling that you were betraying someone you thought you loved.

And in their dreams there would be no Claire, no Nina
shaking her head like she had, saying, Jeez, Zoey, do you really want to do this? No Aisha making snide remarks about how naive you were. No group to be split for the first time ever into angry camps.

She pushed her chair back impatiently and began pacing the room. It was the island. It was too small, too intimate. Anywhere would be better. In a big city who would even notice whom she went out with?

Was he still awake? Probably; it was early still. Too early for dreams, but still, he might be thinking of her, right now, this very minute, only a few dozen feet away.

She lay back on her bed. Was he lying on his bed?

She closed her eyes and pictured him, the look in his eyes when they had separated after that first earth-shattering kiss. Was he remembering that same moment, right now, lying on his bed?

She jumped up, impatient, agitated, sleep an absolute impossibility. She would never fall asleep, not this night. Not the way she felt, her mind racing, her insides jittery, her limbs rattling with too much energy.

Had she felt like this with Jake?
Honestly
, she scolded herself,
did you ever feel this way with Jake
?

No. Yes, sort of, in a way. But not this way, not this precise way.

Was she falling in love with Lucas?

What a ridiculous thing to think. They'd only spent one afternoon together. And that time on the breakwater. And when he had met her at the breakfast table.

Was that enough?

She opened the door to her room stealthily and crept to the guest room. It was at the back of the house, with windows that looked up toward his.

Kneeling and looking up, she could just see the Cabral house. The lights were off. Of course, those were the lights in his parents' room, not his.

Suddenly a delicious thrill went through her. She was going to go and see. She had to know if he was awake or asleep.

She tiptoed back to her room and quickly put on her sneakers. With the Boston Bruins nightshirt, a slightly unfashionable outfit.

Walking at a snail's pace, she descended the stairs, reaching far to skip the one that squeaked. Then it was out the front door into the night.

The cool night air surprised her, blowing through and under her shirt. She felt wonderfully dangerous, creeping around her house, finding the narrow path through the bushes.

She climbed carefully, fell and scuffed her bare knees on the dirt, and almost dissolved in nervous giggles. This was basically
a pretty dorky thing to be doing at nearly midnight. Mr. Cabral would probably wake up and think she was a burglar.

She reached the top, panting a little from exertion and excitement, and made her silent way around to the front of his house. There was a single window on the second floor, dormered like hers. The light was off.

So, he was in his bed. Asleep and dreaming, or awake, unable to sleep for thinking of her.

Or neither,
some dark, unromantic comer of her mind suggested.

“Zoey?”

“Ahhhh!”

“Shh,” Lucas said, clapping his hand over her mouth. When she was quiet he removed his hand, and smothered her giggles with his lips. She melted into his arms, letting her hands travel down his back and making the shocking discovery that he wore no shirt.

He pulled away, then kissed her again, a kiss that lasted so long she was sure the moon would have set and the sun come up by the time they drew apart again.

His eyes glittered darkly, so near she might fall into them and never find her way out again.

“I . . . I just wanted to see if your light was on,” Zoey admitted. Would he think she was an idiot, prowling around in
the dark on such a ridiculous mission?

He nodded. “I couldn't sleep either. I was thinking of you.”

“Me too. I mean, of you.”

He held her close, but now Zoey sensed a heaviness, a sadness in him that made him cling all the harder.

“What's wrong?” she asked, craning back to look into his downturned face.

He sighed. “I, uh, I had a fight with my father,” he said.

“Was it bad?”

He nodded and pulled away, withdrawing his touch. “He wants me gone,” Lucas said in a flat, monotone voice. “He's arranged with my grandfather for me to go there, until I can graduate.”

Zoey felt her heart stop. “Your grandfather?”

“Yeah. My grandfather who lives in Texas.” He clenched his fists and turned away.

Zoey flew to him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his back. “You have to talk to him, make him change his mind!”

“My father's never changed his mind about anything,” Lucas said bitterly. “A few weeks from now—”

“No, Lucas, no,” Zoey said desperately. “We'll figure something out; you can't . . . I can't . . .”

“Just kiss me again, Zoey,” he said. “When you kiss me, nothing bad can happen.”

They kissed in the moonlight, desperate with longing, afraid, their tears mingling, and slowly, slowly, the rest of the world faded away, leaving them perfectly alone together.

 

Who is my boyfriend? Ha. Good question.

Truth is, I've sort of been torn between these two guys: Jake, my long-time boyfriend—a great guy, a nice guy, the right guy (according to all my friends)—and Lucas.

Lucas (according to all my friends) is the wrong guy. Very wrong.

See, a couple years ago, Jake's brother, Wade, was killed in this car crash, and Lucas was driving the car. Lucas spent two years in jail for it. Then he got out, moved back here to Chatham Island, and, well, to make a long story short, I fell for him big time. Not
that
big time, just, you know, kisses that stopped the moon in the sky and made my knees rattle.

I haven't told Jake yet. Maybe he won't care.

No, that's stupid. Of course he'll care. He loves me, he hates Lucas. The thought of me with Lucas will . . . I guess I don't know what it will do, except that it's bound to start trouble in our group. Living on a small island like this, it's very difficult to ignore how other people feel. And to show you just how popular Lucas Cabral is around here, his own father is planning to send him away. Mr. Cabral's very old-fashioned. He says Lucas brings shame on his family.

My friend Aisha thinks I'm being an idiot and that bad things will come from my being with Lucas. But I can't really believe that my loving Lucas could ever result in anything bad. I mean, it's love, right? And love conquers all. At least, I think it's love. Does probable love conquer all?

Probably.

Boyfriend? Don't start with me on the subject of boyfriends. There's this guy named Christopher who thinks he's my boyfriend. He thinks we're destined to become boyfriend and girlfriend because we're like the only two black kids on Chatham Island, if you don't count my little brother.

But I don't go for destiny. I don't go for fate. I am a rational person who is not going to be swayed just because some guy thinks he's hot, and everyone else I know thinks he's right for me. Zoey's the romantic in our group, which is why her life is a mess. I don't turn my life around just because some guy with a cute butt comes along.

Did I say that? What I meant was, I don't turn my life around just because some guy with a big mouth comes along. That's what I meant to say.

Anyway, if I wanted a boyfriend, there's a whole big world of opportunity: black, white, brown, yellow, red. I'm open-minded. And I make my own decisions. I'm my own woman.

So the answer is no, I don't have a boyfriend.

And if I did, it wouldn't be Christopher.

Don't have a boyfriend, never really wanted one. To me a guy is about as necessary as a training bra is to a python; as necessary as an inflamed appendix; as necessary as an electric blanket in hell.

See, that's my three-part comic tautology rule: If you're doing funny examples, do them in threes. Yes, tautology. Look it up. Use it in your next English class and watch you teacher fall over in a dead faint.

Of course, there is this one guy—Zoey's brother, Benjamin.

Yes, he is my sister Claire's boyfriend, but that's a mere technicality. He doesn't really love her. I mean, how could he? We're talking Claire, whose soul is an automatic icemaker. I'm sure that if Benjamin ever thought about it and realized how much I like him, he'd immediately see that we're right for each other.

If he ever even noticed that I'm alive. If he ever bothered for one second to realize that I am not just his buddy, that I am a young woman, and, by the way, not a complete gorgon or anything. If he ever MANAGED to pay the SLIGHTEST bit of attention to the fact that he's the ONLY guy I've ever been interested in in my LIFE, the arrogant, self-centered TOAD . . .

Well, then I think we'd be just right for each other.

I suppose Benjamin is my boyfriend. Either that or he hates me, I'm not sure. And I'm not sure how I feel about him anymore, either. A lot of things are up in the air since I remembered.

See, I honestly didn't remember; that is the truth. You have to understand that. For the longest time I tried to remember; at least I believe I tried. I would never have let Lucas go to jail for me. I would never have kept silent for those two years if I'd remembered.

But now I do remember. I was driving the car when Jake's brother, Wade, was killed. Me, not Lucas.

Benjamin suspects the truth. No one knows for sure except
me and Lucas and, unfortunately, my father. But Benjamin suspects.

My dad was just trying to protect me. He guessed the truth right from the start, but he made a deal with Lucas and Lucas stuck to it. Why? I don't know. Lucas used to be in love with me, that's one reason. Plus my dad said he'd help Lucas's father out with his business.

And now, if I tell the truth, I don't know what would happen to my father. And if I tell the truth, Jake is sure to turn against me, and I was just starting to realize how much I like him.

But if I don't tell the truth . . . then what kind of person am I?

Who's my boyfriend? Who's the guy I love? Benjamin? Jake? Is there even some lingering feeling between me and Lucas? Like I said, I don't know anymore.