If We Fly: A What If Novel

by Nina Lane

  “Josie made a schedule?” Behind his glasses, Ben lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “It must be the twelfth of never.”

  “I made the schedule, Dad.” Vanessa gave him a pointed look. “Josie is just following it.”

  “Then it’s the thirteenth of never,” I said.

  Ben grinned. We exchanged commiserating looks about the disheveled artist whom neither of us could love more than we already did.

  “Got ’em.” Teddy puffed back into the foyer, his arms laden with three balloon animals. “My tiger, and the balloon guy still had the bird he made for Josie. He also gave me a leftover giraffe.”

  “You want me to carry something?” I extended my hand.

  “I’m good.” Teddy wrapped his arm protectively around his cake box. “Where’s my camera?”

  “I have it.” I held up the camera and slipped it into my pocket. “Remind me to give it to you when we get back to your house.”

  “Okay, everyone, hustle out.” Faith shooed us all toward the door.

  Ben took her hand as we walked outside to where Josie waited on the porch. A light rain fell. Streetlamps cast yellowish pools on the wet pavement.

  “I got your bird.” Teddy thrust the balloon, shaped into a multicolored parrot, at Josie.

  “Oh, thanks. I almost forgot him.”

  “You did forget him,” Teddy said. “I’m the one who remembered.”

  She tousled his hair. “Good point.”

  We headed down the steps, quickening our pace through the rain. Thunder rumbled. The rain came down harder. We reached the side street where Ben’s SUV was parked, and he hurried ahead to open the back door.

  “Sure you don’t want me to drive?” I held out my hand again for the keys Josie was carrying.

  “No, you’ve been working all day. I’ll drive.”

  “Go ahead and take the front seat, Cole.” Faith climbed into the back. “Teddy will probably fall asleep before we drive one block.”

  “I will not,” Teddy grumbled.

  Taking the cake box and balloon animals, Ben urged his son into the backseat and got in after him. I opened the driver’s side door for Josie before getting into the passenger seat. We wiped a few drops of rain from our hair and faces.

  “I have to take Highway 16.” She handed me the balloon parrot and pulled the seat closer to the wheel so she could reach the accelerator more comfortably. “There’s road construction over on Glenview, and they closed it both ways. I hope the weather’s okay for the flight tomorrow.”

  “Radar shows a storm front moving in from the north.” Ben’s phone screen glowed from the backseat. “But clear after that.”

  After starting the ignition, Josie pulled the SUV onto the street and headed toward the road that circled the town. She turned on the media player, and the Stones’ “Paint it Black” drifted from the speakers.

  “When does your research cruise leave?” she asked me.

  “End of July from Woods Hole. If the carnival manager won’t give me time off, I’ll have to quit.”

  “I could cover for you.”

  “You?”

  She slanted me a narrow look. “You don’t think I can staff the Milk Bottle Toss booth?”

  “I know you can, but do you want to?”

  “Sure. If I’m busy on Friday and Saturday nights, there’s less chance I’ll watch ahead on Empire of Gods. Just let me know your schedule.”

  I tapped the parrot’s beak on her shoulder. “You’re my tweetheart.”

  She rolled her eyes. Her mouth twitched. “Please don’t.”

  “And being with you is parrot-dise.”

  “I need to break up with you now.”

  “Hey, your bird-day is coming up soon. Owl have to plan a special celebration for you.”

  “If you don’t,” Josie murmured, glancing in the mirror to merge onto Highway 16, “things will get a bit hawkward.”

  “I think I’ll have to revoke my bad pun and riddle license,” Ben said. “Cole is really fowling me up.”

  “Teddy, what was the joke you told me about the duck in the candy store?” I glanced over my shoulder. Slumped against his mother’s side, the boy was fast asleep, his mouth half open.

  Faith gave me an I told you so look, amusement rising to her eyes. “Wild Horses” came through the speakers. Josie flipped the windshield wipers to a faster speed.

  No other car headlights shone through the wet darkness. The highway narrowed to a two-lane road along the coast. The Old Mill Bridge sign flashed in the lights. Rain and fog obscured the ocean.

  “You want me to see if I can get us tickets for a Red Sox game before Cole leaves?” Ben’s phone screen glowed again. “Sam Milton is pitching great this year. Might have a no-hitter before the season is up.”

  “Baseball and lobster rolls, I’m there.” Josie leaned forward slightly to peer through the windshield. Her hands tightened on the wheel.

  “Hey, pull over,” I said. “I’ll drive.”

  “No, it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it to start raining so hard.”

  “Looks like Fenway has a few new concessions this year,” Ben reported. “There’s a jalapeño cheddar burger that looks—”

  The car skidded, tires screeching. Josie gasped. Alarm jolted through me. I shot a hand toward the wheel. My vision blurred. The car spun. Thunder roared in my ears, pierced by Faith’s sudden cry.

  Turn into the spin.

  The order snapped in my brain. I didn’t know if I said it aloud. Gripping the wheel, I fought to help Josie straighten the SUV. The car tilted. The wheel spun out of my hand. Ben shouted. The entire vehicle went airborne and stilled. A bird in flight.

  In that suspended instant, a thousand thoughts raced through my head. It’ll be okay. We’ll land safely. The car will—

  We hit the ground with bone-jarring impact. Faith’s cry became a scream. Time slowed to a crawl. I grabbed the safety bar and reached for Josie. Couldn’t grab hold of her, couldn’t get my bearings. She was so close, right beside me, and I couldn’t touch her.

  The SUV slid down the cliff toward the shore, tires bouncing over rocks and sand before it flipped and rolled.

  “No no no!” Ben’s yell.

  The ocean. The fucking…if we don’t stop, we’ll go under.

  Metal crunched. Glass shattered. The world twisted into chaos. Pain speared through me.

  Josie? Josie!

  Smoke and the acrid stench of gasoline filled the interior. My head hit the side window. The back of the car slammed against the rocks, wrenching me against the seatbelt. The air bags exploded.

  Everything stopped. I couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe.

  Am I alive? Dead? I clawed at my chest. My heart jackhammered. Smoke burned my lungs. A hissing, spitting noise came from the engine, as if the devil himself were inside. Is that fire? Is the car going to explode?

  Josie. Ben. Faith. Teddy.

  Coughing, I fumbled for the pocket on the door to find the flashlight Ben kept there. In case of emergency.

  I couldn’t hear past the hissing. Blood and sweat dripped down my face. Icy water covered my shoes, seeping up to my ankles. Beneath the smoke, I caught the smell of salt. The ocean. If the car doesn’t explode, we’ll drown.

  I wiped blood from my eyes and shone the light toward Josie. She was slumped with her head against the steering wheel, her eyes closed.

  God in heaven, no.

  “Josie.” My voice cracked like metal. I fumbled to unbuckle my seatbelt and turn toward her. “Josie.”

  She was still as death, her face drained of all color, but in the dim light her eyelashes fluttered. I looked into the backseat. Everything inside me splintered into a thousand pieces.

  Teddy was on the floor, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. His mother lay collapsed like a rag doll over him, her limbs askew. Blood was everywhere, splattered like paint. Ben was crushed forward into the passenger seat, the rear windshield shattered behind him. A rod of metal speared his chest.
>
  Rain came through the broken window.

  They’re dead.

  The cold, clinical statement appeared in my mind.

  Get Josie out of the car.

  Panic fired. I shoved at the crumpled passenger side door. It didn’t move. The stench of gas grew stronger. How far into the ocean are we? Could the car explode?

  Bracing myself, I pushed the door with my feet. It yielded halfway. I squeezed out, landing in a foot of ocean water. I stumbled to the driver’s side. Shards of glass clung to the window frame. Plunging my hand through, I opened the door and yanked at Josie’s seatbelt. It was stuck.

  Shit shit shit.

  The car tipped. Water rushed into the demolished doors. If the gas tank didn’t explode, the ocean would submerge the whole car before long. I struggled to get Josie out, wrenching the seatbelt until it yielded just enough. Some distant part of my brain told me I shouldn’t be moving her, I could be hurting her worse, but I had no choice.

  I hauled her out. She was cold, her body limp and lifeless. I staggered to the shore. Away from the spray of the ocean, the rain lessened.

  Please please please…

  I sank to the ground, clutching her against my chest. Terror burned through my veins.

  “Josie.”

  A moan, barely audible, came from her throat. I had to call 911. I had to get the others out of the car. I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket and managed to connect to emergency. I stammered out what I could.

  Cole Danforth…there’s been an accident…Highway 16, just past the Old Mill Bridge. Blue SUV belonging to Benjamin Mays…yes, she’s still breathing…they’re trapped in the car…

  “Cole, stay on the line with me,” the operator said firmly.

  I wiped my arm over my face. Blood and rain. Smoke billowed from the engine. I had to get back there. Pulling off my soaked suit jacket, I lay it over Josie and started back to the car.

  Sirens split the air. I stumbled and fell to my knees. Fought to pull air into my constricted lungs. Red lights flashed. Ambulance, fire trucks, police cars. Shouting. Intercoms crackling.

  “Cole!” Henry Peterson, the police chief who was poker buddies with my father, grabbed my shoulders. “Come on, son.”

  Yanking myself away from him, I tried to crawl. My hands slipped on the slimy rocks. My chest ached.

  “We need to take a look at you, Cole.” An EMT stopped in front of me. “Just stay still.”

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. Josie…”

  “We’re taking care of her.”

  A sudden bright light flooded the beach. I sank back onto a rock and stared. Cold iced my bones. The SUV was half-submerged, waves pushing against the sides, water still seeping through the doors and windows. Officers and firefighters swarmed around the destroyed vehicle, using hydraulic cutters and spreaders to free Teddy, Faith, and Ben. A controlled frenzy lit in the air, voices rising, commands snapping.

  Shoving away the EMT’s arm, I struggled to get back to Josie. Two other medics were loading her onto a stretcher. Her face was bleached of all color except for streams of blood.

  “No.”

  Panic flooded me again. I lunged toward her. My fingers touched her bare leg, bloody and bruised under her torn red dress. Henry Peterson’s big hand closed around my arm. Tears and rage blinded me.

  “Hold on there, son.” Chief Peterson forced me backward. The EMT gripped my left arm. “They’ll take care of her.”

  My teeth chattered. “I n-need to be with her…Josie, please don’t…”

  “I’ll stay with her.” A younger man clamped his hand on my shoulder, lowering his head to look steadily into my eyes, like he needed me to trust him. Nathan Peterson, the police chief’s son. When had he become an officer? The odd thought surface past my shock.

  “I’ll stay with her, Cole, okay?” He tightened his grip on me. “She won’t be alone.”

  “Please.” The word tasted like blood.

  “I’ll stay with her.” Releasing me, he started toward the stretcher.

  Dizziness hit me. Nausea curdled in my gut.

  “She can’t remember!” I shouted.

  Nathan turned, meeting my gaze for an instant. The spinning red siren lights flowed on his face. He nodded swiftly, then ran toward the ambulance where they were taking Josie.

  The EMT put a blanket around me. “Cole, we need to get you out of the rain.”

  He walked me to another ambulance. An eternity passed while he gave me oxygen and assessed my injuries. Chills rattled through me. Sweat ran down my back. I couldn’t grab a coherent thought.

  Chief Peterson approached and crouched in front of me. He pulled a pencil from behind his ear.

  “Son, can you tell me what happened?” His forehead creased. “What do you remember?”

  “The car skidded on the curve.” I ran a shaking hand over my jaw. “Just after the bridge.”

  “Who was driving?”

  I looked past him at the SUV. Officers still swarmed around it, taking notes, photos, measurements. Three EMTs were zipping up three body bags.

  Darkness eclipsed my heart. I couldn’t breathe. Waves rolled past the half-submerged vehicle, splashing over the rocks.

  An object, wet and covered with sand, pushed up onto the shore like a beached sea creature. Red and yellow, white laces…one of Teddy’s sneakers.

  Pain splintered inside me, cracked me apart.

  “I…I was driving.”

  Two EMTs picked up the smallest body bag and started toward the ambulance.

  A howling noise filled the air, deep and terrible, an animal on the verge of death.

  Not until Chief Peterson landed a heavy, steadying grip on my shoulder did I realize the sound was coming from me.

  Chapter 4

  Cole

  * * *

  Present

  * * *

  Why did she go to the accident site? Why is she thinking about the keychain? What the fuck else did Peterson tell her? What does he know?

  After grabbing my briefcase, I leave my office at the Invicta Spirits industrial park and stride toward the parking lot. It’s not even four in the afternoon yet, but I need to get back to Castille. Back to Josie.

  “Mr. Danforth. Mr. Danforth!”

  I stop. A young man rushes toward me, his tie askew and eyes bright. I recognize him as a reporter who’d been at the launch party for Mischief Whiskey.

  “How’d you get on the premises?” I eye his authorization badge, printed with the name Billy Grant.

  Billy. What is he—ten?

  “I’m doing a story about the rise in small-batch scotch brands.” He squints at me. “Whoa. How’d you get that bruise on your face?”

  “I beat up an overeager reporter.”

  His mouth drops open.

  “What do you want?” I ask impatiently.

  “I wanted to ask you about the new distillery you’re building over by Spring Hills.” Billy jerks his thumb in the vague direction of the spring. “One that’ll use a hydropower plant to generate renewable energy. First of its kind, right?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I saw the permit. I also saw the records that you’re testing the water in a dozen aquifers from Castille to Fernsdown. Is there a reason for that?”

  “Testing is done to ensure the purity of the water. I won’t put out a product that’s anything less than one-hundred percent pure.”

  “When I talked to you at the launch party, you said you wanted to keep Invicta on the cutting edge of technology. Is that the case with the new distillery? Are you using new technologies for carbon reduction and environmental sustainability?”

  “We’re still in the research stages. And if you want an interview, you need to contact the press office.”

  He holds up his hands. “Okay, sorry. I just think it’s super cool, what you’re doing. I’ve always been into bioenergy sources. I know you’re using wind power for your distillery over in Clement, but I haven’t heard
of hydropower being used yet. What kind of water turbines are you researching?”

  Although this kid is in his early twenties, he looks impossibly young. Eager. Like he thinks he can change the world for the better.

  I pull out a business card and hand it to him. “I’ll give you a fifteen-minute interview about the new distillery later this week.”

  “Really?” His eyes widen. “Wow. Thanks.”

  “Call my assistant to set it up.” I turn away. “Fifteen minutes. Be prepared.”

  I drive back to Castille, stopping at home to shower and change before going to Watercolor Cottage. While I’ll take Josie wherever I can get her, I’d rather be with her at the cottage than anywhere else. Reminds me of our cramped apartment where we were always bumping into each other and never had enough room.

  As both a girl and an artist, Josie came with stuff. Hair bands. Fuzzy socks. Premium pastels. A thousand tubes of lip balm. I loved her stuff because I loved her. But I’d also been baffled by her inability to hang up a sweatshirt.

  Her cottage isn’t any neater, which is just one reason I like it there. She doesn’t answer my knock. I unlock the door and let myself in.

  She’s sprawled on the bed in the sunroom, her body moving with quick, shallow breaths indicating a restless sleep. One shapely leg rests over a pillow, and her T-shirt is pulled up far enough to reveal the curve of her ass encased in panties printed with purple butterflies.

  Much as I love the sight of her, I dislike her insomnia, the way she sleeps in fits and starts. Though I haven’t seen evidence of a nightmare, that doesn’t mean she’s not still having them. And going back to the accident site…

  My chest tightens. I sit in a chair by the window and rub a hand over the back of my neck.

  Two weeks. That’s it. Then she’s gone. After that…hell, you don’t have to think about after. You just need to make sure the truth stays locked down. That means keeping her away from Peterson and any reminders of the accident.

  Or taking her away.

  A roll of half-opened Lifesavers rests on the windowsill. Peeling it open, I find a red one and stick it in my mouth. Sugar and cherry spill over my tongue.