by Edie Claire
“I mean, I know what you have to be afraid of legally,” he continued. “But how do you feel about the truth coming out? I can’t tell if you’re looking for assurance that the Tremblays won’t make your life more difficult, or if you’re hoping to find some justification not to tell them.”
She chuckled ruefully. “That’s because I don’t know myself.”
Jason let out a breath. “That’s understandable. But listen. I—” He made a move as if to touch her, but stopped himself. He wouldn’t want to give poor, pathetic her the wrong idea, would he? “You’ve had to deal with an incredible amount of truly soul-wrenching stuff, here. And all in a very short time. Maybe it would be better if you slowed—”
Laney didn’t want his sympathy. She couldn’t take it. In the last few, horrific months she’d had enough sympathy from enough people to last a lifetime.
“I came here to figure out the right thing to do and get it over with,” she broke in defensively. “And that’s what I’m going to do. Taking a week to sob on your shoulder, wrap myself in a fuzzy blanket, and drink warm soup won’t help a thing. It will only delay the inevitable.” Her mind cast a beguiling image of Jason wrapped up in the same blanket, but she squelched it.
She attempted a smile. “I know you’re concerned about my mental health, and I appreciate that. I’m well aware that I look and act and sound like a total wreck. But I promise you, I’m fine.” She pulled the rain gear out from under her chair and stood. “Would you be willing to drive me to the library? If we hurry, we can be back in time for me to take over your afternoon shift at the desk.”
The look he returned was all over the place. Sympathy, understanding, aggravation. At one point she was sure he was about to argue with her, but in the end his expression calmed. “Fine,” he replied, standing.
They walked back into the building, and Laney excused herself to make a quick change of clothes. She wouldn’t have balked at jumping straight in his car, wet sneakers and all, but she felt a need to demonstrate some capacity for self-care. She put on several layers of warm, dry clothes, topped them off with the rain pants and jacket, then pulled on the boots. They fit perfectly, which gave her pause. Jason must have paid attention to the size of her feet.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
She shrugged it off and headed back out to meet him. They were in his car and pulling back out onto the highway when her phone alarm sounded. “Oh,” she remarked as she dug into her bag. “That means it’s time to call my great-grandmother. Midafternoon is best for her, but I keep forgetting about the time change. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” he answered, seeming distracted by his own thoughts.
Laney located the phone and turned off the alarm, then noticed that she’d missed a call. Aunt June had tried her earlier, then left a text instead, asking Laney to call her back. “I, uh… better call my aunt first, actually,” she revised. She dialed the number with a renewed sense of panic. Something was almost certainly wrong.
June answered on the second ring. “Oh, hi honey. Thanks for calling me back.”
Laney knew that fake happy voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Now, take it easy, sweetie, it’s nothing terrible. Your Gran’s all right, health-wise. She’s just been having a tough time the last day or two, and I’ve talked to her care manager and they’ve asked me to speak with you about something.”
Laney’s bad feeling got worse. She’d been trying to call her Gran regularly, but she’d only managed to connect with her twice since the accident, and neither conversation had gone well. Gran didn’t seem to understand who she was, and Laney’s attempts to explain only agitated her. “What’s that?”
June exhaled heavily. “Now, I don’t want you to take this personally, honey, because we all know you aren’t the problem. It’s the disease. But the truth is that for whatever reason, talking to you on the phone seems to upset your Gran. They say she gets all anxious and starts wringing her hands and pacing and spouting off all that hellfire nonsense that she started with at the funeral. It has something to do with Christi and her confusing the two of you… they can’t make sense of it, and they can’t talk sense into her either. Yesterday it got so bad, with her crying and carrying on, that they had to sedate her — they were afraid she might try to hurt herself.”
Laney’s blood ran cold. No one else might understand what May was thinking, but she did. Gran felt guilty. Guilty for her own role in the deception, and guilty that she hadn’t been able to save Christi from an eternity of fire and brimstone. How tormented Gran’s poor mind must be!
And any mention of Laney only made her feel worse.
“So, what they’ve suggested,” Aunt June continued miserably, “is that you might not want to call her for a while. Just for a few days, to see if she calms down a little. Then we’ll see. I’m so sorry, honey.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Laney insisted. “It’s not your fault. I understand. I won’t call until you tell me otherwise.” She forced herself to change the subject, to keep her aunt talking about grandsons and snowfall and television before drawing the conversation to a close. Her diversion had the desired effect: June forgot to ask if Laney remembered why she drove to Canada.
She hung up the phone, returned it to her purse, and stared at the rhythmic motion of the wipers on the windshield. No sooner had one layer of drops been swept away than another replaced it, creating successive ripples across the glass. The storm must have been raging throughout her call, but she hadn’t been aware of it. Jason said nothing to her and she didn’t look at him. Her eyes filled with tears.
She didn’t want him to see.
Chapter 24
Jason drove along the hilly streets of Tofino, grateful that his familiarity with the town precluded the need to read road signs. The rain was pelting so heavily he could barely see three feet before the bumper, and driving took all his concentration.
Laney said nothing. She hadn’t said a word since ending the phone conversation with her aunt, and he had no need to ask her why. June was a loud talker. Even with the rain, he’d heard nearly every word. And although he wanted very much to pull the car over and take Laney into his arms, he resisted the urge. Partly because, after the incredible sensation he’d experienced the last time, he was wary of his own response. But also because, when she was fighting so hard to keep herself together and appeared to be winning the battle, he was loath to interfere.
He maneuvered his car to the far side of town and pulled up beside the square, blue-painted wooden building that housed the town’s modest library. “This is it,” he announced, seeing her make no reaction to the car’s being parked. “Would you like to go in with me, or just wait here? I can make a copy for you.”
Laney woke up. “No, of course I’ll go in. And we’ll make a copy, too.”
He smiled, having to give her credit. Her voice sounded perfectly normal, and aside from a mild redness around the lids, her eyes showed no evidence of the tears she’d been fighting. They dashed through the rain to the door, which Jason swung open. Then they stomped and shook the excess water off themselves over the doormat. “I’m afraid it’s a pretty small library,” he explained. “It’s underfunded; the town’s been waiting on a new building forever. But the staff do a good job, especially with the local stuff, and that’s all we need.”
He approached the small counter and was pleased to see Ned Wu, the retired schoolteacher who served as the main librarian. His younger assistant wasn’t someone Jason cared to run into with Laney along. Not that he was self-conscious about his exes. He worked hard to make sure that his relationships ended cordially, with no misunderstandings or hard feelings. Still, there was no point in rubbing Laney’s nose in his history, was there?
“Hello, Mr. Buchanan,” the librarian greeted him formally. “How might I help you folks today?”
Jason grinned. Ned reminded him of a cartoon superhero. At work he wore thick glasses and cardigan sweaters and spoke wi
th perfect grammar. But in a wetsuit out on the ocean, he was a total badass. Jason explained what they were looking for.
“The fall newsletter,” Ned said confidently, withdrawing a plain manilla folder from a metal file cabinet. He thumbed through it and pulled out a stapled set of pale yellow papers, once folded down the middle. “Here you are.”
Jason thanked him effusively, then turned to Laney. The article they sought was on the first page. They stepped to the other side of the room and, since he could see Laney shaking again, he held out the paper himself where both could see it. The article was illustrated with a black and white photograph of the retired couple and three children standing on the deck of a fishing boat. Gordon was a large man, imposing in both height and posture, with a full head of what was probably snow-white hair, light eyes, and a practiced smile. Joan, who looked like a midget beside him, had slightly darker hair pulled back tight. She wore large round sunglasses that obscured her eyes, and she wasn’t smiling. She had one arm wrapped protectively around a child of about five who clung to her leg and was attempting — successfully — to hide his or her face from the camera. Two elementary-age boys stood to either side of the couple, each holding a decent-sized fish and beaming from ear to ear. A Day to Remember the headline read. Jason scanned through the caption, which named the couple but not the children, and the first page of the article, which described a number of summer outings but offered no new information on the Tremblays.
He looked at Laney. She was absorbed in the picture, her brow furrowed in concentration. She said nothing, but she continued to tremble. He waited another few moments. “I think there’s more inside,” he suggested, lifting the bottom corner. She nodded, and he flipped two pages to the story’s conclusion. Another smaller picture showed the boat’s bridge, where a smiling boat captain looked on as a grinning girl of eight or nine brandished the wheel. Jason scanned the remainder of the article, which described the Tremblays only as “longtime volunteers” with the organization. Evidently, the couple had been living or vacationing in Ucluelet for a while now.
He turned back to Laney and found her staring thoughtfully into space. “I’ll make a copy,” he announced, and then did so. After returning the article to the Clark Kent version of Ned, he led a zombified Laney back outside to the car.
Mercifully, the rain was easing up. “So, what did you think?” he asked before turning the key in the ignition. It was a lame question, but he felt a strong need to reassure himself that she was still alive.
She snapped to attention and cleared her throat. “I couldn’t tell much,” she offered, her voice nearly normal. “Their faces were so small and grainy. But the kids looked happy.”
“Yes, they did, didn’t they?” Jason agreed.
“It didn’t help,” Laney said abruptly. She turned toward him. “I still don’t know what I should do. And I’m beginning to think that nothing I hear or see or read about them is going to be enough. That I’m going to have to meet them.”
He smiled at her encouragingly. He could see that she found the prospect terrifying. But she wouldn’t let that stop her. “Well, I have good news on that score. I know the captain who was with them. His name is Max Tollison, and he owns the boat shop down by the harbor in Ucluelet. He does sales, charters, repairs — you name it. Been in business forever. I’m willing to bet he and Gordon know each other.”
Laney’s face was pale, but she appeared encouraged. “You know Max pretty well?”
He felt a flush of warmth. It felt good to be useful to her. “I do. Well enough, anyway.”
“You think he could help us set up some kind of covert meeting?”
“I can try.” Jason would make it happen if it was the last thing he did. Looking in her eyes now, so fearful and optimistic at the same time, made his chest ache. He understood where she was coming from. If she found out that her grandparents were good people, she would feel obligated to return their granddaughter, at the cost of losing herself. If they were not good people, she would feel a whole different kind of hurt. She might keep her legal identity, but her unwelcome knowledge would be a heavy burden to carry… forever.
Jason checked his watch and started up the car. She didn’t ask where they were going and he didn’t explain. He just drove to one of his favorite hangouts and opened the door.
“Why are we here?” Laney asked, looking up at the craftsman style wooden inn on the corner.
“Because it’s lunchtime,” Jason replied. He jogged around the car and opened her door, chivalry backlash be damned. “A bowl of warm soup may not solve a problem, but it does make a person feel better. Particularly when it’s Tofino chowder. Come on. My treat.”
She frowned at him. “I have canned soup at the lodge.”
“Well, I don’t,” he insisted. “Indulge me. Please? If you like, I can add your portion of the bill to your lodge tab.”
To his surprise, she smiled crookedly and got out of the car. “No, you won’t. Liar.”
He grinned back at her. “Busted.”
The rustic restaurant and bar was famous for its brunch, and they settled into a cozy table on the second level with an impressive view of the Clayoquot Sound. A gas fireplace flickered nearby, and Laney watched with interest as the rain slowed and a patch of brighter sky opened up over the water. “It’s beautiful here,” she said dreamily. “Even when it’s wet.”
Jason’s heart beat entirely too fast. Her words excited him. For whatever reason, he wanted her to love Tofino as much as he did. He wanted her to come back when she was healed and learn to surf. He wanted to be the one to teach her. He wanted—
“Are you guys ready to order?” a cheerful male voice asked.
Jason looked up at their waiter, a younger surfer he knew well. Half the wait staff in town were surfers eking out a living for the sake of their next ride. It was a scene he’d been a part of himself once. “Almost. What’ll it be?” he asked Laney.
She surveyed the menu skeptically, which amused him. Dungeness crab, charred octopus, and fried squid were probably not on the menus of her usual midwestern haunts. But when she raised her cute little chin, she had an adventurous sparkle in her eye. “I’ll take whatever’s the most uniquely local.”
Jason’s body temperature edged up another degree. He really, really liked this woman. “The lady will have the seaweed salad,” he said loftily, smiling. “And a bowl of Tofino chowder. Same for me.”
Much to his delight, Laney seemed both willing and able to take a temporary break from her weightier thoughts. As they waited for their food, they talked of other things. Of college past and friends present, islands and plains, burgers and streaming movies, and of course — surfing. She seemed fascinated, not just with the sport or the intricacies of its forecasting, but with the entire culture built up around it. Nearly everything about Tofino was foreign to her, but rather than being intimidated by its differences, she seemed energized by them. Listening to her describe her previous, unsatisfied longing to see the ocean, he realized that the shell-shocked woman he’d come to know in the last few days was only a dim reflection of her usual self.
He wanted to see her whole again.
“Here you go!” the waiter announced cheerfully, setting their food before them. As soon as he’d left, Laney inspected her first course as if it were a lab specimen.
“I’ve been noticing the seaweed on the beaches,” she said. “It varies in appearance at different places, but all of it looks like some gourmet salad to me. It’s not bright green and stringy like you’d think, but so… leafy. And all the colors! Deep greens, reds, purples, even orange. I couldn’t help thinking it looked edible, or at least it should be. But this—” she pierced a bumpy, brownish-green leaf with her fork “—this doesn’t look familiar.”
“It’s bull kelp,” Jason advised.
Her eyes widened. “You mean those giant rod things with the big balls on the ends?”
Jason laughed. “Yep. It’s made from the blades.”
Laney stuffed a forkful into her mouth, savored a moment, and grinned. “I like it,” she announced. “The seasoning makes it, don’t you think?”
Jason did. They moved on to the soup. Laney seemed to find the chowder, with its combination of fish, clams, potatoes, and leeks, equally appetizing, and by the end of the meal, Jason realized he couldn’t remember ever enjoying a woman’s dinner company more. It hadn’t been a date, nor had it felt like one. There had been no superficial, overly happy chitchat. No forced, nervous giggles. There was plenty of laughter, but all of it had been genuine. Laney had made no effort whatsoever to impress him. The contrast with his usual dates was beyond refreshing. Besides which, she was not only interesting to talk to, she was just plain fun.
Unfortunately, the meal had to end. And no sooner had the two of them returned to the car than she appeared to lift own her temporary reprieve. “We’re late,” she said worriedly, looking at her phone. “I was supposed to start working the desk for you at noon.”
Jason sighed. He wasn’t sure where she got that idea, since his hours varied depending on the scheduled check-ins. He explained that his first new lodger wasn’t expected until two, but she did not seem mollified. As they rode out of town and back to Chesterman Beach, he could feel the weight of her worries descending on her like a fog.
“When do you think you might be able to contact the boat captain?” she asked.
“I’ll call him this afternoon,” Jason promised. As much as he wanted to help end her torture, he dearly wished she’d called a longer timeout.
He had just parked the car back at the lodge when his phone rang with the low moan of a whale song. He got text alerts almost constantly, but he’d assigned this particular ringtone to Ben’s number so he wouldn’t miss it. “Wait a minute,” he said as Laney placed her hand on the door handle.
He scrolled through a series of incoming texts. “Ben’s found out something about the endowment. He says it was actually made in the names of all three of them: Gordon’s daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter. The funds were earmarked for research into early warning systems, specifically on the ‘detecting, monitoring, and forecasting of tornadoes and hurricanes through improvements in radar technology and computer modelling.’”