The slatted floor is ankle-deep in icy salt water. I follow Tom down the dark hallway past the supply closet and curtained cubicle where I saw Dr. Jellicoe and Vera yesterday. Now shin-deep water pushes against my legs and crutch as we move toward the gray light in the back of the tent. Seaweed and salt drown the smells of medicine and wet canvas. As we get closer, the water rises higher and the wind shrieks louder. The back flaps of the tent are open to the flooding tide.
Tom stops, knee-deep in seawater. In the watery light I see only Dorchy and rejoice. She’s here. She’s fine.
But why is she sitting in the rising water? Posy is sitting in the water too.
I scream their names and wade toward them. Dorchy half stands, slips, and falls. Posy falls on top of her.
“Dorchy,” I scream, as I fight my way forward. My crutch slips, but I catch myself. “Get up.”
As if she heard me, Dorchy wobbles to her feet, coughing and spitting out water. She holds up her hands. They’re tied together in front of her.
With a roar like a locomotive, the wind slams into the tent. Around us, the canvas billows and flattens, and the water trembles. Posy’s scream is almost as loud as the wind.
I look for Tom; he’s disappeared.
Dorchy leans toward me. “Get Posy.”
Instead I grab Dorchy’s hands and wrestle off the rubber tubing tied around them.
She rubs her wrists and grins at me. “I could have done that,” she shouts.
“Sure you could, Houdini.”
Another gust of wind and a loud crack. I look up. Overhead a tent pole hangs down surrounded by slabs of canvas that used to be the roof. I grab Posy’s shoulder. She stares through me.
Dorchy gives me a look that says, What do we do now?
“Posy,” I lean down and shout in her ear. “It’s Rowan. Let me untie your hands.”
She lunges at me, and I fall facedown in the water, mouth open. She collapses on top of me, holding me under. I swallow salt water but stay calm. It’s like being caught by a big wave at the beach. I manage to shove her off me but lose my crutch. Choking, I try to stand but can’t. Dorchy lifts me and hands me my crutch. Then she drags Posy upright.
Posy is docile now and lets me untie her hands. Then Dorchy guides her down the hallway to the front of the tent. I follow them, and Tom appears supporting Lester and Christophe. All of us are shaking with cold. Overhead, the wind shreds more canvas. Tent poles groan. Tom yells, “Hurry up. We have to get out of here. We’ll be trapped.”
“Wait.” I stop by the supply closet. “Tom, grab some blankets.”
He looks as if he might argue, then ducks inside and comes back with three blankets.
“Where are the twins and Elsa?” I ask Dorchy as we leave the tent, with Posy, now wrapped in a blanket, between us.
“Vera took the twins,” Dorchy pants, “when the water started coming into the tent. That’s when Jellicoe tied our hands. He said they’d be back.”
“But we didn’t believe him,” Posy says. “Vera and him ran out like the fires of hell, beg pardon, were at their heels.”
“And,” Dorchy says, taking a deep breath, “Elsa died. Dr. Jellicoe was taking her body out when Vera brought me in this morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “We should have found you first.”
“You found me now.” She smiles at me. “Besides I got to ride on Viking. Vera slung me over the saddle like a dead deer. I’d like to think I gave that horse a shock he’ll never forget.”
“We heard you yell,” I say, “and Jack told us about the jump.”
“You’d have done the same,” she says. “Now let’s get away from here.”
Tom has an arm around Lester on one side and Christophe on the other. We look up the steep road and catch our breaths. Water foams around our feet.
As we climb out of the quarry, the wind dies down and it’s possible to hear each other speak.
“The boys are really sick,” Dorchy says.
“What about you?”
“I’m fine, even though they gave me their stupid inoculation.”
My heart sinks. “But you had the flu.”
Dorchy makes a face. “That was a white lie I told Miss Latigue so I could come here with you.”
Oh, Dorchy. The ground drops out from under me. Not you.
“You told them you never had the flu?”
“Yes. I didn’t think they’d do anything. I reminded them that we’re agents of the Council. But that witch Vera said, ‘Do it.’ Dr. Ritter said, ‘There’ll be hell to pay.’ And even Jellicoe hesitated. So Vera grabbed the needle and said, ‘She’s an orphan,’ and jabbed me. I punched her. But I’ll be fine. I’m a carny, remember?”
A carny who can con almost anyone and climb anything. I squeeze her hand, ignoring the fear clawing at me.
Chapter 42
Posy can walk by herself, so Dorchy helps Lester up the hill while Tom half carries Christophe. The truck is idling at the top.
“They’ve come back.” Posy grabs my hand.
“It’s only me,” yells Jack, “but it’s too slippery to drive down.”
He helps Tom and Dorchy get the boys into the back of the truck. It’s open to the rain, so they rig a shelter out of blankets. Jack and Posy ride with the boys to keep them covered.
Dorchy climbs in the front with Tom. I look back at the quarry before I get in. In the dying light, white-capped waves close in on the tent, now sagging with its center pole broken and its roof in shreds. The ocean and the wind have destroyed it. Good riddance.
Inside the truck, Dorchy and I share a damp blanket as Tom starts down the track toward the cave. He’s forgotten the tree that crashed across the road, and we stop just in time.
“Why did you stop?” Dorchy says, teeth chattering. “We have to get the boys to the gym or the house. We all need dry clothes.”
The truck rocks in the wind, and rain thunders on the roof. Tom says, “Snout and Magdalena are still in the cave.”
Dorchy jabs me in the ribs. “Do something.”
“Tom,” I say, “Jack can walk to the cave and tell Magdalena and Snout what’s happened. Take the rest of us to the house.” When he doesn’t move, I add, “There’s plenty of food and water at the cave. As soon as the storm is over, we can get them.”
Tom seems to consider this, then shakes his head. “Vera and Jellicoe could be at the house,” he says through tight lips. “They’ll take back their patients.”
“Cecily won’t let anything happen to us at her house. She hates Vera.” I concentrate on making him believe me. “Even if Vera is there, Cecily will do the right thing. Anyway I’ll go in first. Please.”
“All right,” he says finally. “I’ll tell Jack.” He gets out of the truck, holding the door so it doesn’t rip off in the wind.
Dorchy grabs my arm. “We have to signal for help.” Her voice rises. “Vera and Jellicoe will never let us get away from here now. As soon as the storm is over, they’ll round us up. I don’t want that.” She shivers violently, and I put my arm around her. “First we have to get warm,” she says. “Then we have to get help.”
Tom climbs in and turns the truck around. We head for the house.
“The lighthouse,” Dorchy says. “We have to light the lamp and signal the mainland.” She sounds defiant, as if we had already objected.
“You’re right,” Tom says. “Even if Reuben is against them, he’s in no shape to protect us. And we can’t wait for the ferry. It has to be tonight, as soon as the storm moves out.”
“But you’re scared of heights, Tom,” I object. “And Dorchy’s half drowned. Jack might have done it, but…”
“I’ll do it,” Dorchy says. “A good climb is just what I need. Get me dry clothes, though. These wet ones weigh a ton.”
I imagine the flimsy lighthouse, as ful
l of holes as Swiss cheese, rocking in the wind. “It’s not safe. The wind will blow the light out, and anyway no one on shore will see it.”
“We have to get help.” Dorchy is adamant. “We have sick boys and maybe Posy and me. I don’t know yet.”
“Dorchy’s right. They won’t give up.” Tom says this as if it’s a new idea. “As soon as the storm is over, they’ll come after us again. Even if the tent is washed away. I know you think Cecily will protect us, Rowan, but you’re the only one they won’t touch. What was it Ratty overheard?”
“‘No one leaves the island alive.’” It comes out in a whisper.
“So there you have it.” Dorchy sounds impatient. “We have to send a signal.”
“We can’t.” Tom sounds defeated. “Reuben said the stairs have collapsed. He wanted to fix them and Vera said no.”
“I climbed it Wednesday night,” Dorchy says, “all the way to the top walkway. The kerosene is there; the matches are there. I can do it.”
Tom gives a low whistle. “Well, that cinches it.” He sounds impressed.
“The house first,” I say.
“Right,” Tom says. “Then I’m going to the lighthouse with Dorchy.”
I snap back, “So am I!”
As I squelch up to Cecily’s door, I imagine Dr. Jellicoe opening it, needle in hand, ready to stab me. But the thought of Dorchy shivering in the truck pushes me forward.
The door is locked. I hammer my knuckles raw before Louise opens it and pulls me inside.
I stay close to the door, ready to run, and look around in the dim light. “Is Vera here?”
“No.” Louise doesn’t smile. “Don’t know where she and the doc have got to. Don’t care either.” She looks me up and down. “Where are the others?”
“Outside in the truck. They need to be in here. Vera and Jellicoe left them tied up in the tent as it flooded. There are three more hiding in the woods.” I stop for a breath, and she says, “Well, bring the ones outside in here right now. Mrs. Van Giesen is in no state to complain.”
As I turn to go back to the truck, she adds, “I locked her in her room.”
She couldn’t have surprised me more if she’d sprouted wings and hovered over my head.
“You did?” My voice squeaks.
“I did. And if Vera shows up, I’ll lock her in the cellar. Now get those kids in here.”
I go back to the truck, and Posy climbs out of the back, shaking with cold.
Tom and Dorchy help Christophe into the house. Posy helps Lester.
The electricity is out. Louise thinks a tree fell on the generator shed. By lamplight she provides dry clothes and lanterns for us to use getting to the lighthouse, even though she doesn’t approve. “You say that girl is going to light the lamp?” she asks, handing me a waterproof bag of matches.
“Dorchy, yes. What about her?”
“She’s sick.” Louise avoids my eyes. “Fact is, she ought to be in a warm bed.”
I refuse to believe her. “She’s fine, but without knowing where Vera and the doctor are, we have to call for help.”
“They won’t come back here to the house,” Louise says. “Vera came by and took a bag. She didn’t ask for her mother, and I didn’t tell her I’d locked her up. I would’ve locked Vera up too, if she’d stayed around.”
“Well, no one can get off the island,” I say, “so we’re signaling for help. The storm is letting up.”
She hangs a shopping bag on my arm. “Get that boy Tom to carry the lanterns. You take this thermos of hot cocoa and some sugar cookies. Give that poor girl a drink before she goes up that thing. Better’n medicine.”
“Thanks, Louise.”
“Stay here,” Posy begs me. “You’re the only one of us who’s been here before.”
“I’ll be back.” I hurry out to the truck.
“He wanted to go without you,” Dorchy says when I get in. “But I made him wait.” Like me, she has on dry clothes and an oilskin coat and hat. Tom is still in his wet clothes but covered now with a waterproof coat and hat that Louise said belonged to Vera’s father “when he was alive.”
Telling us this, Tom adds, “Well, they wouldn’t have been much use to him when he was dead.”
The wind pushes the truck sideways on the cliff track, and Tom fights the wheel.
“The sky is clearing,” Dorchy says. I feel her body heat through the waterproof coat. She is as tight as a coiled spring.
“Nervous?” I ask her.
“No. I did it before, didn’t I?”
Yes, on a mild evening with light in the sky and no wind.
“After this storm the lighthouse could be a pile of timbers on the rocks,” Tom says.
“It isn’t.” Dorchy points. There it is, a dark shape silhouetted against the clearing sky. “They didn’t plan for this,” she says with satisfaction. “They didn’t dream anyone would ever light that lamp again.”
“Reuben did.” Tom brakes, and we slide across the muddy track and come to a stop on the edge of the cliff. “He wanted to fix it.”
“Quit stalling,” Dorchy says. “Spend your breath praying for somebody to see the light”—she coughs, a deep, wet sound—“know what it is”—a harsh gasp—“and come to help us before Vera and Jellicoe hunt us down.”
“Wait. Louise wanted you to drink this.” I dig out the thermos, unscrew the top, and pour a capful, offering it first to Tom and then to Dorchy.
“You think I’m contagious?” Dorchy laughs. “Never felt better.”
Tom lights the two lanterns. Dorchy leads the way with one, followed by Tom and me sharing the other.
Stars wink in the gaps between shifting clouds. The rain is a soft drizzle, and the smell of salt is thick on the light wind. Dorchy turns around. “It’s clearing. They’ll see it on the mainland and they’ll come.” Her harsh laugh has a sob behind it.
“Dorchy?” Suddenly I’m drowning in regret. Why didn’t we stay on Cape Cod or go to New York when we had the chance? We’d be safe now, with nothing to be afraid of but the Ogilvies. What would they say if they saw us now?
Dorchy stops suddenly, and we stare at the dark, sodden mass of the lighthouse. “I’ll take one lantern up the stairs as far as I can go one-handed,” she says. “Then I’ll go by feel.”
Tom gives her the package of waterproof matches. “These will work,” he says. “We don’t know if the ones up there still do.”
“How will you get the lamp open to light it?” I ask.
“I’ll get it open.”
“I should be the one going up,” Tom says in a strangled voice.
“You’d break the ladder,” Dorchy says. “I can climb it because I’m lighter than you are.” She sounds excited, like the Dorchy I know.
“I’ll be at the foot of the ladder,” Tom says. He sounds very tense, and I realize he doesn’t know what a powerful climber Dorchy is.
“Be careful,” I call after them, hating how useless that sounds. “I’ll wait for you, Dorchy.” I add quietly, “Till hell freezes over.”
She’s not sick. She’s fine.
The wind shifts and the lighthouse creaks. I want my leg back. The words ring in my mind. I grip the crutch. I won’t sit down while Tom and Dorchy are in danger. I brace for the sound of tearing wood and a scream, but all I hear is the pounding surf.
When two small lights shine through the gaping hole in the side of the building, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
One light moves into a higher window and disappears. The second one follows. Then both lights appear even higher. Tom must have both lanterns at the foot of the broken ladder while Dorchy climbs.
I count to a hundred, promising myself that I’ll see the lighthouse lamp shining before I finish. I do that five times. Then Tom runs out of the lighthouse, swinging a lantern and calling, “Ro
wan.” The fear in his voice pierces me. Joy and courage drain away.
Dorchy.
I walk toward Tom’s voice, not even feeling the ground under my feet. The sky has cleared enough for me to steer my way through the rocks and vines. Then Tom is in front of me. In the lantern light his face looks haggard.
“What happened?”
Dorchy coughs. The thick and agonizing sound comes from the top of the lighthouse. I clutch at my own throat. No, Dorchy’s fine. She must be fine; she has to be fine; she climbed up there. She’ll save us all.
The coughing stops abruptly. Tom turns away from me and yells, “Dorchy, are you all right?”
I trip on a vine and my hand hits a small, sharp rock. I jump up, cradling my hand. “Don’t talk, Dorchy,” I yell. “I’m coming up.”
Tom swings around. “How?” he says in a low voice. “The ladder. Your leg.”
“One of us has to go up there,” I say, loud enough for Dorchy to hear. “It’s going to be me. I’ll help you down, Dorchy. You’ll be fine once we get back to the house.”
To Tom, I say, “I’m not talking about her as if she can’t hear us.” A vein of anger stirs inside me. My weak leg will not stop me. “You can’t climb the ladder,” I tell Tom. “So you can help me do it.”
At that moment I feel strong enough to climb three lighthouses. “Hold the ladder and boost me up. I’ll get her on the ladder. You get her off.”
Tom holds up the lantern. A muscle twitches in his cheek. “You’ll have to light the lamp,” he says in a low voice. “She had trouble with it before she started…”
“I’ll do it,” I say. Maybe if we don’t say the word coughing, she’ll stop. I concentrate on getting into the lighthouse.
Tom shifts the fallen beam in front of the door so it’s easier for me to get in. Then he helps me climb over the pile of wreckage at the foot of the stairs.
“Stay to the right on the stairs,” he says. “I’ll follow you up with the lantern. But I’ll have to put it down to hold the ladder. Up top the only light is from the sky.”
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