Waiting for the Storm (2 page)

My sister remained where she was, lounging against the tree as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She took one last long drag from her cigarette before flicking it onto the dry grass. With a look of challenge on her face, she gave me a sassy little finger wave and stepped through the side door.

I waited a few seconds to make sure she didn’t come back out, then hurried across the lot and stomped on the cigarette, grinding it into the dirt until I was sure it was completely out. The authorities had been giving warnings on the news for the last two weeks about dry conditions, and how we needed to be extra careful with any sort of flame near grassy areas. Ella knew that as well as I did; she just didn’t care.

I shook my head, feeling suddenly deflated and exhausted. My mother was dead. My sister hated me. My dad was basically falling apart. My friends…well, I didn’t have any friends, not really, not anymore. Summer had always been my favourite time of year, but this year I was dreading it with every fibre of my being.

CHAPTER TWO

“Ugh! I can’t
believe
we have to spend the
whole
summer on some stupid little island in the middle of nowhere,” Ella complained as she dragged her suitcases out to the car.

I stared at the enormous bags that appeared to hold everything Ella owned. “I’m so sorry our mother’s dying wish is inconveniencing your summer plans,” I snapped. Normally I would keep my mouth shut to avoid a word war with her, but it was only eight o’clock in the morning and I’d already been listening to her gripe for over an hour.

Ella glared at me, but if she had a comeback—which she usually did—she kept it to herself. I wasn’t sure which of us was more surprised by that fact.

Tossing her long, dyed-black hair over her shoulders, she hefted one suitcase into the trunk, then the other. I was glad I’d already put my bag in there since her two behemoths nearly took up the entire space. Even though we were going for two months, I had packed light, figuring I could buy anything I needed when we got to Angel Island.

“I call shotgun,” Ella announced, pulling an iPod from her purse and untangling the ear buds.

“You’re welcome to it,” I muttered, opening the back door of Dad’s car. When we were little, Ella and I used to love road trips. Our parents said we were a dream to travel with because we entertained each other with games, music, and chatter. Now I figured I’d be lucky—or more aptly,
unlucky
—if Ella spoke two words to me the entire three-and-a-half-hour drive from Toronto to the island.

Dad stumbled out of the house dragging a suitcase in one hand and carrying a travel mug in the other. He looked awful—he hadn’t shaved in several days; his thick, dark hair was sticking out everywhere; his white t-shirt had a coffee stain down the front already; and his shorts were so wrinkled I wondered if he’d slept in them. Dad had always been fastidious about his appearance, but in the last few weeks—ever since the doctors told us Mom would die sooner than later—he’d completely let himself go.

Then there was the fact that he’d all but checked out mentally. He’d hardly spoken to either Ella or me since Mom died, and he’d gone through the funeral and burial on autopilot. I was actually kind of nervous about him driving, but since I didn’t drive and Ella only had her learner’s permit, we were stuck with Zombie Dad behind the wheel.

I slid into the backseat and pulled out my own iPod. I was hoping if I blasted U2 loud enough, it would drown out my thoughts and I’d get some peace for the first time in ages. My mind had been working overtime for the last year worrying about Mom, taking care of her, making sure she had everything she needed, and that the last months and weeks of her life were as good as possible.

Since her death, I’d been going over everything she’d told me, every moment we spent together, every secret and joke we’d ever shared. I hadn’t slept properly in months, and I’d barely slept at all since her death last week. Her words were on a constant loop in my mind, telling me she loved me, making me promise to take care of Dad and Ella, and assuring me that I would be strong enough to handle life without her.

The trunk slammed, and a second later Dad opened the driver’s side door and practically fell into the car. He sat behind the wheel for a long time, breathing heavily and staring up at the house. I wondered if he was going to back out and refuse to go. I wasn’t sure if I’d be upset or relieved.

Finally Dad let out a long, slow breath and looked over at Ella, who ignored him, then met my eyes in the rearview mirror. His green eyes were bloodshot and heavy lidded. “I think this will be good for all of us,” he said, his voice rough from lack of use. “Get away for awhile, go somewhere your mom loved…” He trailed off, and his eyes glazed over slightly. When his gaze returned to mine in the mirror, he nodded resolutely and slipped his sunglasses on. “I think this will be good for us,” he repeated, starting the engine and backing out of our driveway.

I said a silent goodbye to the house. It was the last place I had seen my mother alive. The two of us had been cooped up together for the past year, shut away from the rest of the world. Dad came and went, trying to be as supportive as possible, but he was terrified of losing Mom, and for some reason that translated into his not being around as much as he should.

I wondered if that was Ella’s reason for not spending time with Mom, but I knew that wasn’t true, or at least not the whole truth anyway. She claimed I was Mom’s favourite, and since I spent most of my time with Mom, we didn’t need her around. To me, it seemed like a handy excuse to act like a selfish, spoiled brat, and to take my place at school. I wondered if she would ever look back and regret her behaviour and decisions over this last year.

Ella glanced back at me and her eyes narrowed. The look of contempt she gave me made me wonder if she suddenly had the power to read minds, and if she knew what I was thinking.

As she straightened in her seat, shaking her head slightly, I thought maybe she was already having regrets and that’s why she seemed to hate me even more since Mom’s death. It was hard to believe that the stranger in the front seat had once been the centre of my world.

*****

We stopped for lunch in Kingston at an Irish pub called Tir Nan Og. It was quite possibly the most uncomfortable meal I’d ever had. The food and service were great, the décor made me feel like I’d been transported to Ireland, and they played music by U2, The Corrs, and The Cranberries—three of my favourite Irish bands—over the sound system, but our little table for three was silent except for the sounds of clinking forks and knives.

We were like a group of strangers rather than a family. Flesh and blood didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d eaten a meal together. I did most of the cooking, but Dad was often shut away in his office and ate later, and Ella was usually out with friends, so Mom and I ate together. On her good days, we’d sit at the kitchen table, and on the days she was too tired or weak to get out of bed, we’d sit in her bed and watch movies while we ate.

I was so lost in my thoughts that when a waiter accidentally dropped a plate nearby and it shattered on the floor, I jolted in my chair and let out a little squeal.

Ella smirked in my direction. “Jumpy much?”

Ignoring her, I slouched over my plate and continued to pick at my food. I sighed in relief when we were all finished and Dad paid the bill. The boarding dock for the ferry was only a five-minute drive away, and I couldn’t wait to put some space between myself and my family.

The ferry was boarding by the time we got there, so I didn’t have long to wait before we were parked and taking off. Ella and I stepped out of the car at the exact same moment, and after shooting me yet another dirty look, she headed toward the front of the boat. Turning in the opposite direction, I moved toward the back.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Ella talking to a cute guy who was leaning against a truck. She sure didn’t waste any time. I kept walking and found a set of metal stairs that led to an upper deck. A few people stood around near the railing staring off into the distance, and I wondered if they were island dwellers or visitors.

I found a quiet spot and leaned against the railing. The wind whipped my auburn hair around my face as the ferry picked up speed. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face and bare arms.

Loud footsteps clanking on the metal stairs drew my attention, and I looked over my shoulder. Ella paused at the top of the steps, her expression unreadable. I turned away, expecting her to walk past, but a second later she was standing beside me, gripping the railing with both hands and looking down at the dark, churning water.

My heart rate sped up as one minute passed, then another. I was afraid to even look at her, let alone speak, and I realized suddenly that I was holding my breath. I let it out slowly, glad the sound of it was caught up in the wind, and finally looked at her. Her brow was creased, but she had her sunglasses on now, so I knew it wasn’t because she was squinting against the glare.

“Do you remember when we were little and Mom and Dad used to take us to Amherst Island?” I asked quietly, my words almost swallowed by the wind. I cleared my throat and spoke a little louder. “They were afraid to let us out of their sight on the ferry because they were worried we’d fall overboard.”

Ella nodded slowly, the crease in her brow deepening. “I remember.” She looked at me, and for a moment, a ghost of a smile haunted her lips. Maybe this was it; maybe Mom’s death was going to be the thing that finally brought us closer. I didn’t have anyone else; I needed my sister. Her face turned stony and I knew I wouldn’t be getting my wish anytime soon. “I also remember how Mom would sit in those chairs away from the railing and hold you in her lap and coddle you because of your stupid fear of water.”

“It’s not stupid,” I muttered, turning my face away. I’d developed a fear of water when I was two and had almost drowned after being accidentally pushed into a neighbour’s pool. Years later, Mom and Dad had given me swimming lessons with the hope I’d get over my fear, and ironically enough I was a good swimmer and enjoyed swimming in pools, but I was terrified of open water. I knew that could present a problem this summer since we were living on an island surrounded by Lake Ontario, and our house was apparently right on the beach.

“You always were her favourite.” Ella’s voice was so cold it made me shiver.

“I wasn’t.” I shook my head as my eyes started to sting. “I don’t know why you think—”

“Save it, Charlotte,” she interrupted me. “Just save it. She’s gone now, so it doesn’t matter.”

Her words felt like a slap to the face. I staggered back, gripping the railing so hard my knuckles turned white.

“Careful,” Ella warned with a sneer. “Wouldn’t want you to fall overboard.”

She whirled around and walked away, the sound of her high-heeled sandals echoing around me like gunshots.

So much for the sisterly bonding I’d been hoping for.

*****

I waited until almost the last minute to go back to the car. The ferry was slowing to a stop and angling into the dock when I slipped into the backseat. I wondered briefly if either Dad or Ella would have noticed if I hadn’t returned.

We drove slowly off the ferry, passing people who were waiting to be reunited with loved ones. There was a lot of smiling, waving, calling of names, and hugging. I averted my eyes, looking instead at the line of cars waiting to go across to Kingston.

We went up a small hill and turned left onto Main Street. I figured this was the big draw for tourists who came to the island—there was an old-fashioned general store, a bed and breakfast, a restaurant, a museum, and a number of small shops and boutiques all crammed together on both sides of the street.

Mom had loved quaint little places like this. When Ella and I were younger, Mom would often spontaneously decide to take a mini road trip, and the three of us would pile into the car and drive until we came to a small town that interested Mom. We’d wander the shops, buy kitschy souvenirs, have lunch, and then head home. Each time, we went a little further in search of a new town, but we also had our favourites that we returned to on occasion.

Memories like that—random adventures, days spent laughing, talking, and being silly—made me wonder how Ella could possibly think I was Mom’s favourite. Just because we remained close while Ella drifted away didn’t mean Mom loved us any differently.

Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I tried to pay attention to the turns Dad was taking so I’d remember how to get back to the dock. The paved road of Main Street transitioned into gravel as we headed away from the water and toward the south end of the island. Here, there was nothing but open fields with the occasional herd of sheep or cows. A few houses could be seen in the distance, but it appeared to be mostly farmland.

We turned again and the water came back into view. The street was paved here, and came very close to the water’s edge. I was beginning to think we’d soon drive right into the lake when houses finally came into view. There were just a few at first, spaced far apart, but they got closer and closer until we drove through an area that reminded me of Main Street, only less crowded. I was surprised to see a school, a small store, and a diner, as well as several other businesses.

We turned down another gravel road, and I knew we must be nearly there. The houses here were smaller and looked like beach houses, although I knew they were all winterized and people lived here year round. Mom had told me that when she came here for summers, theirs was the only house that wasn’t winterized, and it sat empty most of the year.

During her research, Mom learned one of her old friends, Lilah, had bought the place about ten years ago, winterized it, and rented it out through the year. That’s when she decided we should all come for a visit. There were only three rentals left on this strip of beach—islanders lived in all the rest of the homes.

I counted ten houses before Dad turned into a long driveway and stopped the car in front of a two-story blue and white house. The paint was faded and peeling, and the porch steps looked rickety and unsafe. The whole house had an air of disuse and abandonment to it, and I wondered if Mom had been right when she said people actually still rented it.

Despite its appearance, I could feel a tugging in my chest. I loved it. It was almost as if I could feel Mom here, and that gave me a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well.” Dad put the car in park and killed the engine. I watched his reflection in the rearview mirror as he simply sat and stared at the house. After a few minutes, he shook his head and started to laugh.

Ella and I exchanged a quick look, and I wondered if my expression was as worried as hers.

“What’s so funny, Dad?” I asked, reaching up to lay my hand on his shoulder.

The minute I touched him, he snapped out of it and his expression returned to neutral. Empty. Numb. “Your mother told me this place had fallen apart. I guess Lilah said she didn’t see a point in fixing it up since hardly anyone rented it anymore. Said she might just board the place up if she couldn’t sell it to someone looking for a fixer-upper.”