by Anne Hope
“Don’t mention it. I’ve got kids. I know what you’re going through right now.”
Kristen crept up to Zach and tugged at his shorts. “Bring my brother home. Please.”
Zach fell to his knees, drew her into a bone-crushing hug. “I will,” he promised.
The rowboat was old, its faded cedar hull in desperate need of another coat of varnish. Still, it hopped along the waves with remarkable ease.
The wind roared like an angry beast awakening from a nightmare. Thick clouds pooled in the sky, painting the day gray. Around them, water frothed and thundered, cold and hungry. Year after year, erosion ate away at the National Seashore, often causing large chunks of land to sink into the sea, and that brought the harsher Atlantic tides crashing into the once-peaceful Chatham Harbor.
Zach sat with his back to the stern and labored ahead. With each thrust of his arms, he propelled his body forward, focused on the rhythm of the oars as he plunged them into the greedy mouth of the harbor. Images surged within him, flashes from the past that suffocated his mind as mercilessly as the clouds fisting around the sun.
He fought them, stubbornly crammed them back into the darkened corners of his psyche. He couldn’t let the memories devour him.
Becca was seated across from him, silent and thoughtful, her gaze trained on his face. He ignored her probing stare. With determined strokes, he continued to carve a thin path through the white-capped swells. The rowboat quaked menacingly each time a wave struck it. An oily feeling spread through him, coating the walls of his stomach and rising to fill his mouth, but he tamped it down.
He had to stay in control, had to get to Noah. Nothing else mattered.
Still, memories were nothing if not persistent. They chiseled away at his resolve and crawled through the cracks—waves crashing against the hull, icy water slapping his flesh, a vicious riptide dragging him under…
He shook the disturbing thoughts away and rowed harder.
“Are you all right?” Becca’s voice shredded a hole through the thickening fog in his head. Slowly, it dissipated.
“I’m fine. I just hope Noah is, too. If he fell overboard—”
“He’s a great swimmer.”
“So was I. Once.”
Twenty-five years ago these very waters had nearly claimed him. His father had taken him out in a rowboat similar to this one. The ocean had been calm at first, deceptive. Then it had grown restless. Violent waves had risen to pound angry fists against their small, pathetic craft. Unable to withstand the assault, the boat had capsized.
Instantly, the sea had wrapped frigid tentacles around him, pulled him deeper. He’d fought the brutal current, but no matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t reach the surface. Above him, the sun’s weak rays had speared through the impenetrable blackness. The light had hovered mere feet over his head, as inaccessible as the sky.
Fire had ignited in his lungs while darkness slid in to blur the edges of his vision. Then a strong hand had gripped his arm and pulled him out.
His father.
Cool, salty air had trickled down his throat to extinguish the flames. He still remembered the delicious taste of it, the way it had ballooned in his chest and chased the dizziness away.
That day he’d realized even a skilled swimmer was no match for the sea once it decided it wanted you.
He tried to keep it together when the dinghy lunged into the fierce waters of the Atlantic—where another fragment of land had recently fallen away—told himself they were almost at the Seashore.
“Zach, please tell me that’s not what I think it is.” Becca’s sun-kissed skin went bone white.
He followed her gaze, and his worst fear came crashing down on him. In the distance—drifting on the waves—was the canoe. It looked empty. The urgency escalated to a physical ache. He pumped the oars with increased fervor until the boat lanced forward at astonishing speed. They reached the aimless craft within minutes.
As he’d suspected, there was no sign of Noah.
A small sob escaped Becca’s lips. “Where is he?”
Zach shook his head and scanned the depths below. “Damned if I know. But I’m going to find him.”
And with that promise hanging in the air between them, he plunged headfirst into his worst nightmare.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The sea was cold, deep and silky. It closed its wet mouth around him, then spit him out as if it didn’t like the taste of him. The undertow was manageable today. With a few swift strokes, he was able to break through the surface. He dove in repeatedly, searching the darkened depths for a glimpse of a scraggy head, a pair of thin arms, a scrap of blue and yellow fabric. Murky water surrounded him, speckled with sand, hampering his visibility.
He wasn’t sure why the hell he was doing this. Noah could be anywhere. The canoe could have been drifting for hours. Still a desperate, totally irrational energy drove him, kept him searching. He needed to convince himself his nephew wasn’t in there, that he hadn’t been swallowed by the sea. Needed it with a compulsion that all but consumed him.
His lungs began to burn. He didn’t know how long he’d stayed under. A hand gripped his arm. Not his dad’s this time, but Becca’s. She’d jumped into the water after him. Together they floated toward the weak sun.
“You’ll never find him this way,” she told him in a breathless whisper. “We need to check the shore.”
The crazy energy continued to vibrate in his veins, but he couldn’t find his voice to argue with her. Instead he got back into the rowboat and yanked her out of the water. That was when he saw the cove—a tiny cut on the curved arm of the Cape. It dug into sand and stone, surrounded by dense shrubbery and a cluster of tall dunes.
Becca noticed it about the same time as he. “Look. Didn’t Kristen mention a cove?”
With a brisk nod, he angled the boat north and set course for it.
It didn’t look far. Not far at all. Then why was it taking so damn long to get there? It was the current. It swirled, fast and cold, around them, pushed them back even as he rowed harder. For a second the clouds completely blocked out the sun, and a chill skated down his back on thin legs of ice. Across from him, Becca shivered. The smell of salt and seaweed riding the breeze tickled his nostrils, made his throat sting.
Becca rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. On any other occasion he would have been more than happy to warm her. But right now he had to pour all his strength into reaching that cove. A seagull circled above, and its shrill, baleful cry urged him on.
“He has to be there.” Her voice was gruff, thick with worry and the tears she refused to shed.
Determination steamrolled through him and flattened his fears, even as they snarled at being ignored. He couldn’t lose himself to what ifs. He had to stay in the here and now, and that meant concentrating only on the next stroke, on the next foot the boat vanquished, on the next breath of oxygen he drew into his lungs.
Green meshed with blue and gray as they approached land. Zach maneuvered the boat through the narrow entrance, where the sea grew calm and the breeze stopped howling. Around them, wild tufts of grass spilled over sand like a straggly mop of hair. Dunes soared, almost as high as the trees. They quickly disembarked, and he carefully dragged the rowboat to the shore.
“How will we ever find him?” Discouragement tugged at Becca’s mouth and brows. “He could be anywhere.”
Zach scanned the deserted landscape, allowed determination to flood his system and drench his blood with adrenaline. “Then we’ll just have to look everywhere. Even if it takes all day.”
Noah liked to walk along the dunes. Liked the way the tall, powdery mountains tickled his bare feet. His dad had always said not to climb the dunes, that they were there to protect the beach, but he climbed them anyway. Anything that was fun seemed to be bad, and he was sick of it. Sick of always being told what to do and what not to do.
Uncle Zach was probably spitting out razorblades by now, but Noah didn’t give a rat’s ass. Served
him right for grounding him. Not that he’d worry. His uncle didn’t care about him. All he cared about was getting his way.
Today Noah had every intention of being his own boss. So, if walking on the dunes made him happy, then he’d sure as hell walk on the dunes.
It looked like it was going to rain. Gray clouds twirled over his head like strings of smoke from his grandpa’s pipe. The air was damp and thick. Still, he enjoyed being outside, away from everyone and their dumb rules. Out here he didn’t have to deal with his sister’s constant whining, Will’s screaming, Jason’s dumb sandcastles. He didn’t have to wonder why Aunt Becca was suddenly pretending to like him, while Uncle Zach seemed to have forgotten how. But most of all he didn’t have to think of the confession he’d made last night or the sudden desire he felt to spill his guts to anyone who’d listen. As if admitting what a chicken-shit he was would make everything all right. Stupid, that’s what he was. Stupid to have said anything to anyone, even Night-Owl.
He heard the barks then, turned and saw the harbor seals—a whole family of them—lying on a shelf of moss-covered rocks. Excitement flared in his chest, chased the bad thoughts away. He’d never seen so many seals this close to shore before. They were an awesome sight, gray with brown spots, their long whiskers twitching as they sniffed the air.
He had to get a closer look. He just had to. This was way too cool. He took off at a run, scaling dune after dune, heading for the rocks. He’d all but made it to the edge when the ground suddenly rolled out from under him. With a girlish scream, he tumbled down a steep slack, right before a shower of sand fell to block out the sky.
Rebecca heard the scream and stilled. The sound echoed off stone and brush, which convinced her she hadn’t imagined it. “Noah?”
Barely a second later, Zach sprinted to her side. “Did you hear that?”
She nodded. “I think it came from those dunes.”
Without another word, they headed in that direction.
“Over there.” Zach pointed to a navy blue patch in the sand. It looked like a pair of sandals.
Noah’s sandals.
So he was here. The question was, where?
“Noah!” she called out again, louder this time.
The only reply was the sound of the wind and a chorus of barks and grunts from beyond the dunes. She turned to Zach, her expression questioning.
“Harbor seals,” he told her. “Must be perched somewhere on the other side.”
They clambered up the dunes to get a better look. A recent storm had caused severe erosion, and the slipface was steep, towering above the shore like a cliff. Every so often the sand shifted, rose in swirls to be carried out to sea. The seals sat on a patch of mossy rocks a few feet from the bank.
“Noah!” Zach belted out, then lunged to the ground and raced across the beach. The seals scattered, dove beneath frothy waves. Rebecca climbed down and took off at a run after him.
Zach dropped to his knees and began digging in the sand at the foot of a vertical slope so sharp she wondered how the dune didn’t collapse in a spray of dust. She realized what he was doing, and terror frosted along her spine. She finally reached him, kneeled beside Noah, who lay half-buried in the sand, and helped Zach dig him out.
The boy was in a state of panic. Gasping, he began to thrash wildly the moment they freed him.
“Are you hurt?” Zach cradled his nephew’s face. “Can you breathe?”
Noah nodded. “I couldn’t move. Couldn’t get out.” Tears carved thick tracks down his dirt-smeared cheeks.
Her hand rose to her mouth to stifle a cry. She wasn’t sure whether it was one of shock or relief. All she knew was that she wanted to hold him, to shelter him in her arms the way she had when he was a baby. Right there and then, she buried her fears, her grief, her anger on that windswept shore. Buried them so deep they’d never see the light of day again.
She reached for Noah, pulled him close to her heart while she stroked the sand from his hair. “Oh, baby,” she crooned. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
Her own tears fell to dampen his head as he curled against her—so small, so fragile, like the infant she’d once rocked in her arms. In that moment the last seven years slipped away as surely as the sand rolling off the dunes. Suddenly, he was that round-faced toddler with the ready smile once more. He was the baby who, at one time, had preferred her to his own mother.
Zach slouched back on his haunches, his shoulders slumping even as his face tightened with disapproval. “What were you thinking, Noah, running off like that? You could’ve been killed. If Kristen hadn’t told us about this place—” He paused, blew out a mouthful of air.
The boy was trying really hard to stop crying. She could tell by the stiffness in his limbs, the slight tremors that coursed through him.
“Why’d you do it? Why’d you take off without telling us?” Zach persisted.
Rebecca shook her head in silent warning. This wasn’t the time to antagonize the child. He was too shaken.
Zach did what men do best; he ignored her. “We went half crazy with worry.”
Noah ripped his body from her embrace. “Why?”
“Why?” Zach shook his head in pure bafflement.
“You don’t give a damn about me. I just annoy you. You keep sending me to my room so you don’t have to look at me.” The tears came again, fast and violent. “Nothing I do is right. Ever.”
Zach’s face crumpled, and all the emotions he fought to conceal broke free. “That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.” His inflection simmered with a potent combination of shock and frustration. “I send you to your room because I do care. I care too damn much. You’ve got so much anger inside you it’s eating you up, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
The boy hugged his knees again, as if to protect himself from the deluge that threatened to overtake him. Or maybe he was just struggling to hold himself together and keep from shattering.
“We’re family,” Zach told him. “Families don’t always get along, but they care about each other, watch out for each other, no matter what. You got that?”
Noah shook his head with a fierceness that matched the turbulent assault of the waves on the coast. “I don’t have a family anymore. I don’t deserve one.”
“Of course you do,” Rebecca reassured him. “Everyone deserves a family.”
“No!” The vehemence with which the word was spoken was like a physical blow. “I screwed up. Don’t you get it? I’m the reason they’re dead.”
Confusion slammed into her. She tried to stroke her nephew’s damp hair, but he scampered out of her reach. “Don’t touch me!” He was frantic. She barely recognized his voice. It was sharp and piercing, like an alarm. An alarm she would do best to heed.
Then his eyes rose to her face, wet and miserable, and her heart splintered into a million fragments of helpless sorrow.
“I saw him.” He mumbled the words. “The man who killed them.”
Zach was speechless. His gaze met and held hers.
“I thought everyone was asleep, so I got out of bed and went down to play on the computer. I saw the guy break in, saw the gun. He was dressed in black.”
Noah’s whole body shook from the force of his sobs. She wasn’t sure there was enough of him to contain such agony. “I should’ve yelled out, warned them. But I was too scared, so I hid behind the stairs. Then I heard my mom scream.”
Zach ran his palm down his face. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I thought you’d hate me.” A ragged gasp, followed by another sob.
Incredulity seeped in to soak Zach’s features. “Scratch what I said before. That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed past the pain. “I could never hate you. You’re my sister’s son. I love you like you’re my own. Hell, you are my own.”
Noah’s cries settled into a low whimper. “But I could’ve saved them and I didn’t.”
Zach reached out and gripped his nephew’
s arms, gave him a brisk shake. “Hiding was the smartest thing you could’ve done. Probably kept you alive. You think you could’ve taken on a guy with a gun and won?”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“No maybes. You did the right thing. Your parents wanted you safe. They would’ve given their lives in a flash to keep you that way. So would I.” He pulled his nephew hard against his chest, held him like the whole world was about to end. “You did the right thing,” he said over and over again, as if wanting to ensure it sank in. Moisture sparkled in Zach’s eyes as he held the boy in the protective loop of his arms and allowed him to cry out his grief.
Rebecca’s stomach muscles bunched. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t find her voice, so she just watched them. Watched as the clouds momentarily parted and sunshine spilled down to halo their heads. Watched as Noah’s body went limp against his uncle’s and his fists clenched around a handful of Zach’s shirt. Watched as the man she loved fought to contain the turmoil churning within him so as to comfort this lost, guilt-ridden boy.
After a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, they broke apart. Noah mopped away his tears with the back of his hand. “Sorry I cried on you,” he said, embarrassed.
Zach shrugged in a manner befitting his nephew. “No big deal. I was already wet.”
The boy’s lips twitched, but they failed to curl into a smile. “Are you gonna tell anyone? What I told you?”
“Why don’t we worry about that later?” Zach filled his lungs with air, released it nice and slow. “Let’s get you back to the house first, clean you up. You look like hell.”
The three of them stood. Rebecca and Zach flanked their nephew, each taking hold of one of his hands. Then they advanced, a strong, united front, over the dunes and across the beach to the boat.
“Where’s the canoe?” Noah asked.
“Probably halfway to China by now.” Zach’s lips quirked at the corners. “Thankfully, the dinghy’s still here ’cause I, for one, have absolutely no desire to swim back.”