The Drifter

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  “Try it again, Carolyn! Reach for me!”

  She was practically hysterical now, but somehow she did it. This time her hand met with something solid, and seconds later she felt herself being drawn up with agonizing slowness. The wind tossed her like a sail—her arms felt wrenched from their sockets. After an eternity, she felt the jagged edge of the balcony and then arms were around her, pulling her the rest of the way to safety. With one last cry she fell through the doorway and onto the attic floor.

  For a long time she lay there, shivering and disoriented.

  The attic was unnaturally quiet after the deafening roar of the storm.

  And when she finally tried to sit up, she realized that someone was holding her—that she was pressed against his bare chest, with his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her cheek.…

  “Carolyn,” Joss murmured, “it’s okay … you’re safe.”

  Slowly she raised her eyes, gazing into the half shadow of his face. She could smell night and wind and rain on his skin, in his hair, and as his arms tightened around her, she choked back a sob.

  “Don’t,” Joss said quietly. “Everything’s all right.”

  “But—but—” She couldn’t even talk, her voice was shaking so badly, like her body was shaking and her teeth were chattering, and her heart was pounding out of control—“I went out there—I thought I heard—”

  “Carolyn,” he whispered. He put one hand to her forehead and gently smoothed back her hair. He was so close to her now, only the clinging fabric of her nightgown separated them. In the darkness she felt the slight shift of his body, and then his lips were on hers, his fingers stroking her cheeks, his kiss long and deep and tender.

  Carolyn felt his hands slide down her neck, onto her shoulders. She shivered as they moved slowly down her arms, wrapping around her waist, pressing her even closer.

  She tilted her face up to his. She slipped her arms around his neck and clung to him. His lips moved to her throat and lingered there, and as she drew her breath in sharply, he suddenly released her and pulled away.

  “Go downstairs,” he said, and his voice sounded hoarse and strained, hollow in the darkness of the room. “Get into something dry. Then we’ll talk.”

  “No—you don’t understand—”

  “Come on.” He was forcing her to her feet now, shining a flashlight ahead of them, leading her back down the stairs and along the second-floor hallway. “Go in and change. Then you can tell me what happened.”

  Even in her current state, Carolyn sensed somehow that he was angry with her. Because of the accident? Because of the kiss? Going out there was a stupid thing to do—I could have killed myself and him, too—

  “Hurry up,” Joss said tightly. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  He is mad. Well, can I blame him?

  “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, “it’s just that I saw that light—heard that voice—” but Joss’s grip was almost painful, and he cut her off with a shake of his head.

  “Change your clothes,” he ordered.

  She was too drained to argue. She closed her door and fell across her bed, burying her face in the pillow. What happened up there in the attic? Her mind raced, and her heart beat frantically. Something horrible, but he rescued me.… Something deadly, but he saved my life.

  She’d never been kissed like that before. In the safety of her room, Carolyn closed her eyes and tried to shut out everything that had happened up there, but she could still feel it—Joss’s kiss—his lips on hers, insistent, demanding—and how she’d responded with a startling intensity of her own.

  What’s he going to think of me?

  She couldn’t face him. There was no way she could get dressed and go downstairs now and sit there calmly discussing her accident and look him in the eye without reliving that kiss.

  But she had to go, of course. Sooner or later she’d have to face him again … so it might as well be tonight.

  Without warning the lights blinked on—dimmed—then brightened back to full power. Carolyn stared at her bedside lamp, then out at the flashes of lightning beyond her window. Maybe he thought I was hysterical and I wasn’t responsible for my actions and I won’t remember what happened, and maybe if I’m really lucky he’ll forget about the whole thing.

  But she thought of his kiss again, and how she’d felt wrapped tightly within the strength of his arms, and her whole body went so hot and weak, she could hardly change clothes.

  Joss was at the stove when she finally got to the kitchen. His feet were bare, and his wet jeans clung to him like a second skin. Still shirtless, he’d draped a towel around his neck and smoothed his damp hair back behind his ears. The kitchen smelled warm and homey, and Carolyn saw that he was making cocoa. At first he didn’t seem to realize she was even there, so she had time to slip into a chair and compose herself before he glanced over and nodded.

  “Thought you could use something hot to drink,” he said softly.

  She swallowed and forced a smile. “Thanks. That’s nice.”

  He kept standing there stirring the spoon in the pan. Caroline kneaded her fingers together, rested her hands on the tabletop, and stared at them.

  “You could have been killed tonight,” Joss said at last. “I guess you know that.”

  “I do know that.” Carolyn’s voice got slightly defensive. “I really don’t know what to say. You saved my life. I can’t think of anything grateful enough to—”

  “Forget it,” Joss said.

  “Forget it? But if you hadn’t been there—”

  “It’s okay.” He lifted his hand in a gesture for silence. Carolyn twisted her fingers together until they ached.

  “Joss—”

  “I guess you had a good reason for going out there.”

  He sounded ready for anything, no matter how stupid her reason might turn out to be, so Carolyn took a deep breath and plunged in. She told him about the power going out, and how the attic door had been open; how she’d heard the voice calling and seen the distant light only seconds before her accident. She told him everything, and during the whole time he just kept stirring the pan and not talking, until finally she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Well, aren’t you going to say something?” she demanded.

  He turned around and fixed her with a calm, dark stare.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Well … that you believe me would certainly be a good start.”

  He seemed to be considering this. He turned back to the stove.

  “I’m not making it up!” Carolyn insisted. “I didn’t imagine it! And I’ve heard that voice before when I was out on the cliffs! I almost fell that time, too!”

  He shot her a quick look she couldn’t read. He put the spoon down and filled two mugs with cocoa.

  “The boards on the widow’s walk were rotted through,” he said quietly. “The railing wasn’t even attached to the platform.”

  “Do you think I would have gone out there if I’d known that?” Carolyn looked down as he put the mug in front of her. “I saw a light, Joss. At the bottom of the cliffs. It was real.”

  He paused beside her chair. She glanced up at him, feeling somehow that she had to defend herself.

  “It wasn’t very clear at first, but then it grew stronger—or at least it seemed as if it was trying to grow stronger. It was moving along the rocks, but it was hard to see because of all the rain.”

  He mumbled something she couldn’t hear. He stared at the wall above her head.

  “What did you say?” Carolyn asked.

  “I said … ghost lights.”

  Joss moved slowly to the window. Carolyn watched as he parted the curtains and stared out into the night.

  “Help from the living,” he murmured. “Yes … of course …”

  Carolyn was feeling sicker by the minute. “But ghost lights are just make-believe! Silly superstitions—”

  “That depends,” Joss said, “on who sees them.”

  “But
I did see them! Whatever they were—they were real!”

  Joss shook his head and let the curtains fall back into place.

  “Well, of course you can’t see them from here, if that’s what you’re looking for!” Carolyn’s voice rose thinly, and she stood up from her chair. “You can’t see them from here—you have to be up high! You’re just trying to scare me! You’re just trying to make me think I imagined everything!”

  Joss’s glance slid smoothly back over his shoulder … settled onto her face. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Where were you when I first called?” Tears sprang to Carolyn’s eyes, and she fiercely blinked them back. “When that door blew open, and it sounded like a hurricane in the hall?”

  “Asleep. The wind blows strongest at my corner of the house—it’s hard to hear anything—especially when you’re asleep.”

  “Then how did you finally hear me in time? Just in time to keep me from falling? And how did you know where I was—and how did you get there so fast and—”

  “Stop it, Carolyn,” Joss said. He had ahold of her shoulders now, shaking her gently. “You’ve been through a lot tonight; you need some rest. Things will look a lot different in the morning—”

  “No!”

  She wrenched from his grasp, but he was still staring at her—his dark, dark eyes pulling her in, holding her, until she couldn’t move … couldn’t even breathe …

  “Who are you?” Carolyn whispered.

  Joss said nothing.

  He took one step toward her, but Carolyn turned and ran to her room.

  17

  “IT’S EIGHT IN THE MORNING. WHAT ARE YOU DOING here?”

  Carolyn stopped on the front porch and frowned at the figure lounging there on the steps at her feet.

  “Hi.” Andy grinned. “How’s it going?”

  “Terrible, if you must know,” Carolyn muttered, and he jumped up in alarm.

  “Is your mom worse? What happened?”

  Carolyn glared at him. Joss’s words of wisdom still rang in her ears, and as much as she hated to admit it, last night almost did seem like a bad dream. The storm had given way to thick wet fog, the wind had calmed to a playful gustiness, and now, instead of lightning and thunder, there was only the rumble and crash of the sea.

  She shook her head in wry amusement. So things looked a lot different after all, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d fallen from the widow’s walk last night—that she’d nearly been killed—that Joss kissed me—

  “Tell me,” Andy insisted, and with a shock, Carolyn realized he was holding both her hands, trying to get her attention.

  “No,” she mumbled, “no, it’s not my mom. I called about an hour ago; she was still sleeping. They say she’s going to be okay, but she’ll still need to stay there awhile. And they don’t really want her to have any visitors yet.”

  “Sounds good.” Andy smiled. When Carolyn didn’t return it, he stepped back and fixed her with a quizzical stare. “So what’s wrong? You look awful.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Come on, Carolyn—I drove all the way out here to see you, and that Joss guy was hammering so loud I had to scream at him, and then he finally answered the door and hardly said two words to me and—” He broke off, eyes narrowing. “Did something happen last night? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, something did happen, and yes, I’m all right.” Carolyn sighed.

  “Wait! Where you going?”

  “For a walk. Are you coming with me, or do I have to keep shouting?”

  “Whoa!” Andy gave an exaggerated shudder and fell into step beside her. “Someone must have gotten up on the wrong side of bed this morning.”

  “Sorry,” she relented. “It’s not your fault I’m in such a rotten mood.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. And since you’re obviously not going to tell me what’s going on, I might as well tell you why I came out here to see you.”

  “Are you sure you want to? I might bite your head off.”

  “I thought we could go into the village and spend the day together. The music competition’s this afternoon—and then a food fair tonight. Should be lots of fun.”

  “I don’t feel much like fun. I wouldn’t be much fun.”

  “Hey, give me a little credit. Would I have asked you to go if I thought we’d have a terrible time?”

  She shook her head, smiling a little. “I shouldn’t, you know. I should stay here and work on the house. There’s so much to do, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “I thought that’s what Joss was here for,” Andy reminded her. “And anyway, you’ll have plenty of time to get the place in shape. The festival only lasts through the weekend, and you’ve got the rest of your life to work on the house.”

  “Oh, Andy”—Carolyn sighed—“the rest of my life was down to about one second last night.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  The smile she gave him was strained. “Let’s not go into it right now. Not here, anyway.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly, his face puzzled. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.”

  “Let me get my jacket.”

  They went back to the house, and Andy waited while Carolyn hunted for her coat. She could hear Joss working on the back porch, and as she went into the kitchen, she found Nora at the sink, polishing a silver tea service.

  “Oh, hi, Nora. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  The housekeeper glanced up but said nothing. She rubbed fiercely at the teapot with her rag.

  “He told me. What happened last night.”

  “Who, Joss?” Carolyn was surprised. “You mean about the accident?”

  “You think it was an accident.” Nora’s eyes flicked to Carolyn’s face, then back again to her work. “Well, it wasn’t. You still don’t believe. Even after my warning. Well, you deserve it, then. You deserve anything that happens. I can’t save you from trouble if you don’t want to be saved.”

  She turned and left the room, leaving Carolyn to stare openmouthed. A second later the back door opened and Joss wandered in. He was studying a ragged-looking piece of paper in his hand, but when he glanced up and saw Carolyn, he quickly stuffed the paper into his hip pocket.

  Carolyn stared at him. Was it her imagination or had he looked guilty for one split second? His bulky sweater covered both pocket and paper, and she couldn’t see a thing. She raised her eyes and saw him staring back at her.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  The memory of his kiss came back to her, and her cheeks warmed. She saw her jacket on the back of a chair and went over to pick it up, trying to keep her voice casual.

  “Okay. I’m going into the village for a while.”

  Petty things … unimportant things … when really, what she wanted to say was Let’s talk about what happened last night, let’s talk about the accident, about the widow’s walk, about the way you held me and why you acted so weird afterward and who you are and where you came from—and what’s on that paper you obviously don’t want me to see—

  “I could have let you fall,” he said, and it was so sudden, so totally unexpected, that Carolyn gaped at him.

  “What?”

  “If I’d wanted to hurt you,” Joss went on matter-of-factly, “which is what you’re wondering right now, then I would have let you fall. I wouldn’t have tried to save you.”

  Carolyn was speechless. She saw his lips ease into a smile, but there was no humor at all in his eyes. Shaken, she went back to the parlor and told Andy she was ready to go.

  The festival was already gearing up when they got there. As they wandered through the village, Carolyn was glad Andy had talked her into coming. Booths were doing a brisk business, musicians were warming up on every corner, and the streets were rapidly filling with people. For several hours they took in the sights, till Andy finally managed to drag her over to the food carts.

  “I’m starving, Carolyn! I haven’t eaten all morning!”


  To her surprise, Carolyn realized she hadn’t eaten, either.

  “What’s your pleasure?” Andy grinned. “My treat.”

  “Then I’ll have one of everything.” Carolyn laughed. “And seconds to go with it.”

  Andy made a face and quickly scanned the tempting variety of food vendors.

  “There’s an unbelievable line at the Mexican booth right now—but I sure could use some tacos.”

  At Carolyn’s nod, he dashed off through the crowds, leaving her to wait on the corner. She recognized the street as she stood there, and knowing it would take Andy a while to get back, Carolyn walked the last two blocks to the library. Jean was at the front desk and asked about Carolyn’s mother, then seemed surprised when Carolyn asked her about the books she’d promised to find.

  “I thought you picked them up already,” Jean informed her, and this time it was Carolyn’s turn to be surprised.

  “No,” Carolyn said. “I haven’t even been in since yesterday.”

  “I had them here at the desk for you,” Jean went on, bewildered. “I had to leave early yesterday, but I’m sure my assistant said she called your house and left a message.”

  “I never got it,” Carolyn told her.

  “Well, the books were gone this morning.” Jean sighed in exasperation. “Not that I think they’ve been stolen—but wouldn’t you know someone would just come in and take them when they were meant for someone else!”

  Jean promised to track them down and get back with her, and after thanking her for all her trouble, Carolyn went back outside. She stood for a minute on the sidewalk, thinking about the books and the message she never got. Then, as she glanced up again, she saw a movement at the front window of the library and recognized Molly McClure.

  “Molly!” Carolyn called. She waved and saw Molly lift one hand. She started to yell again and ask Molly to come out and join them for lunch, when suddenly Carolyn sensed someone behind her.

  “Hi,” a deep voice spoke, and Carolyn whirled around, looking up into Joss’s face.

  “Joss! What are you doing here?”