My uncle came up with the “shield” idea, and I once told my parents that, while it prevents me from knowing exactly what they are feeling, I would still be able to tell that they were trying to hide from me. I don’t care though; it’s better this way.
“We’re getting to the ferryboat, kids! If we don’t hit the ferry traffic, we will be home very soon.”
“What do you mean by ferry traffic, Dad?” Ian asked with concern.
“If too many people are trying to cross to the island at the same time, we will have to wait for a while,” he explains, “but I think we’ll be okay. The traffic usually starts later, when everyone is going home from work.”
Dad’s sentence brings chills up my spine. “Too many people” in any context makes me apprehensive. I don’t even like to imagine being stuck around crowds and all their chattering emotions.
When we reach the ferry lane, it’s all but clear, to my relief, and we drive in right away. Mom insists on getting out of the car to check out the upper deck.
“It’s a beautiful view from the second floor’s balcony,” she says, “especially on a sunny day like today.” The sky is indeed perfect today, a cloudless blue, which we won’t be seeing very often.
“You guys go ahead,” I say, opening the car door. “I need to stop by the restroom, and I’ll meet you back at the car.” I don’t wait for an answer. I walk my way up the ferry staircase, following the arrows toward the restroom.
While I wash my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror. I am in need of a shower, some makeup, and a good night of sleep. I have dark circles under my eyes, and I look like I haven’t slept for days. I need to thank my mom for allowing me out of the car while looking this bad. I run my hands through my hair, trying to loosen it up. No help. I’m just going to have to put it up in a ponytail.
I have long, wavy, coffee-dark hair that snags in its own knots very easily, and right now, it’s an unruly mess—I shrug and turn away from the mirror. What I can’t see won’t hurt me.
The strong wind hits me as I step outside and onto the upper deck. The salty smell of the water reminds me of my early morning runs by the East River in New York. Mom was right, the view from the upper deck is much better. The bay is a dark shade of blue, calm, and surrounded by mountains and evergreen islands. Whidbey lies ahead, and I wonder what it holds for me.
The locals sure know how to enjoy a beautiful sunny day. There are boats and kayaks everywhere and fishermen on the pier. I would love to kayak or do some diving. I would just love to be in the water—to feel calm and untouched.
As I head back to the car, I spot my mom talking to a tall, red-haired woman. “Livia!” Mom calls out as she sees me approaching. “Come here. I want you to meet Mrs. Cooper. She is a good friend of mine and our neighbor.”
“Hi, Mrs. Cooper.” I shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Please, call me Karen,” she says, looking me up and down. “I’ve heard so much about you. You’re as beautiful as I thought you would be.”
“Thank you.” I give her a shy smile.
“So I hear you’re starting senior year,” she continues eagerly. “My son Adam is, too, and you’ll be going to the same school. It would be a good idea for the both of you to meet. It would be nice for you to already know someone on your first day.”
“Yeah, that would be nice.” I think I should sound more enthusiastic toward the idea, but I’m always a little apprehensive about meeting new people. However, I’ll stand by the promise I made myself: I’ll try to be more social.
“How about we have you all over for dinner this Saturday?” She looks at my mom. “I would love to have your family over at the house.”
Mrs. Cooper blurts it out in such a begging tone that my mom can’t say no. I can sense that Karen has an overwhelming need for attention, a desire to be liked and approved of.
“We would love to, Karen.” Mom smiles.
Mrs. Cooper’s need is satisfied, for now. “Great! We’ll see you Saturday.”
* * *
“Wow!” I exclaim when I see our new house.
It’s two stories high and built of exposed timbers, just the way Dad always dreamed his retirement home would look like. I personally love all of the natural wood and the stone foundation. The second floor has a long porch that wraps around the house. The windows are long and wide to let in all of the sunshine of a cloudless day like today has to offer.
“Welcome home!” Mom says, sweeping her arms out as she presents our new home.
As we walk in the house, I see dark hardwood floors throughout, which contrast with its eggshell walls. Finding my way around, I gasp as I step in my room. All of my twenty white Chinese lanterns are hanging from the ceiling, matching the curtains. My bedroom wall is sage green, my favorite color. I slide open the double doors to my walk-in closet—my own walk-in closet.
I open another door and find myself in my very own bathroom. “A Jacuzzi?” I gasp in utter surprise. “That’s so cool!”
“Knock, knock.” My dad is leaning on the door. “So, how do you like it?”
“I love it, Dad!” I can’t help the massive smile on my face as my eyes rove the space. “It’s a beautiful room.”
“I want you to come with me,” he continues. “I have something to show you.” Again, I feel him filtering his emotions.
As I follow Dad outside, I wonder if any other seventeen-year-old girl has a bedroom this nice. My parents have always tried to fill in the blanks by spoiling me. They feel bad for their constant absences, due to the amount of time they spend at work—and maybe, too, because I’m adopted. They’ve never managed to understand that the material doesn’t matter to me. I just love them. They took me into their lives and gave me a family. I accept what they buy me because I know it eases their guilt, though it never eases mine.
Dad and I walk outside and everyone else follows. I see a beautifully polished wooden deck with a built-in stone barbecue and a wood burning pizza oven. To my right, I see a guesthouse. We have a nice-sized yard covered with fresh sod. The Northwest landscape is infused with the tranquil feel of a Japanese botanical garden, and that odd local charm is extremely noticeable here. The roses hang heavy with blossoms and a flowery smell drenches the air. There is even an inviting koi pond that is catching a bit of the afternoon sun. I want to sit on the bench and soak it all in, but Dad isn't finished.
“So, you see anything interesting?” he asks.
“Are you serious?” I laugh. “It’s beautiful. We have a hot tub? I can’t wait to get in it!”
Dad laughs, too. “I am glad I got a big tub enough for all of us. But I want you to look past the backyard, Livia, a little further down, to your left.”
Puzzled, I turn around, searching for something to my left.
My mouth falls wide open once again as I take in the sight of a barn—a horse barn—and two horses standing outside.
“Oh my God,” I barely get the words out. “You didn’t! That barn is big enough for a whole team of horses!”
He’s laughing and his emotional filter fails—he’s full of radiant joy at my surprise.
“There are just two for now,” he explains. “One for me, one for you; eventually, I’ll get one for the boys, too. Your mom didn’t want one, but the barn has five stalls in it in case she changes her mind.”
This is more than I ever wanted. I can’t believe I actually have a horse now. I give my dad a tight hug, mumbling into his shirt, “Thank you so, so much. I can’t wait to ride them with you.”
“Not so fast, Livia,” he scolds not unkindly. “They are young, and they still require training. The black one is a male and he is four and a half years old. His name is Sicilian. The Appaloosa is five years old. Her name is Aphrodite.”
I pull back and look at him. “When will I be able to ride her?”
“Soon,” he smiles reassuringly. “She is almost fully trained. I bought them from Mr. Cooper. Their older son, Adam, trained her himself, and he’s co
ming over next week to help you out. We’ll have him and their horse trainer, Alo, to work with the horses, and a helper to feed and keep up with the barn, but I do expect you to take care of your horse as much as you can.”
“I will!” I nod ecstatically. “I absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent promise.”
I am so happy that I wish my dad had my empathic abilities so he could know just how happy. Words aren’t enough.
* * *
The next morning, I wake up to a bird’s song. It feels like I’ve slept way too long. I grab my phone from my nightstand, but it’s only nine a.m.—my body is still on New York time.
I sling myself out of bed anyway and head downstairs to find my mom in the kitchen.
“Hey, Mom, what are you doing holding that pan?” I tease. She has a smile on her face and she’s proud of herself. I’m proud of her for trying; I don’t remember ever seen Mom cooking before. Whenever Annette wasn’t working, we had to get takeout.
“Oh, give me some credit, Livia! I do know how to cook.”
“In that case, maybe that does smell good,” I play along, “or I just might be really hungry.”
“Well then, this is for you!” Mom hands me a plate—the sight of eggs, bacon, and a pancake makes my stomach growl. “I went all out.” She can’t hide the widening grin on her face. It does smell good, and I am starving, and she knows it.
“I need you to go to the store for me when you’re done,” she says, sparing me from more messing around, and presents me with a list from the kitchen drawer. “There is a market down on the main road. It’s big and should have everything we need. I have to take the boys to an orientation at their new school, and your dad won’t be home ’til dinnertime.”
My good mood had dissipated further with her every word. Mom is always trying to find a way to take me out of my shell and face my demons, but it doesn’t mean I want to go along with it. I give her a wary glance and say, “No mom, really? A market is full of people.”
“Livia, it won’t take long. Besides, you can’t lock yourself away forever.”
“How am I supposed to get there? Walk?”
Mom’s features set in a stern look. “Your car is in the garage. It arrived here early this morning. Now go on.”
I scarf down my breakfast without another word and head back upstairs to my room. I put on jean shorts, a purple polo shirt, and flip-flops.
In my car, I set up the GPS to take me to the grocery store. I have a new S40 Volvo. I got it for birthday present a year ago, and it still smells like the coconut body spray Alyssa spilled in the backseat three months ago. The scent makes me nostalgic, and I’m suddenly very eager to get out of the car.
When I pull into the parking lot of the market, I park in the first spot I see and head inside. I open the list my mom gave me and it’s like a mile long, and I don’t even know what a Coriander is. I am going to be here for a while.
After an hour and a half, I have everything but the Coriander. I walk to the vegetable aisle, searching the names on the signs.
“Can I help you find something?” a male voice asks.
I glance up to see a pair of green eyes twinkling at me. The boy with those eyes has a warm face and spiky blond hair that looks like it requires a lot of work.
“Uh, this is embarrassing.” I smile at him. “But I’m looking for a Coriander, and I’m not sure what it looks like.”
The request catches him off guard. “Coriander, huh?” he asks, scratching the back of his head and grinning. “It would be with the spices, but I think we’re out of them, actually, we should get some by the end of the week. Sorry.”
“That’s all right.” I couldn’t care less, really. I’m relieved that I’m finally done with what seems like an endless shopping spree. I start to turn my cart toward the registers, but can feel him looking me up and down, trying to be discrete while totally checking me out. My cheeks are getting hot.
“You here for vacation?” he asks.
“No, I just moved here from New York.”
He narrows his eyes. “Oh, are you the Coopers’ new neighbor?”
“Word travels fast, huh?”
His grin returns at my answer. “I’m Kyle.” He offers me his hand, which I shake and introduce myself.
“If you’re ready, I can ring you up,” he adds.
We walk to the cash register and I sense his emotions shifting. He’s getting anxious in my presence. When I was younger, I used to think that boys felt anxious when I was around because they didn’t like me. In time, I learned it was completely the opposite. Alyssa said that I should take their feelings as a compliment.
“So, did you grow up here?” I ask, trying to put him at ease.
“Yep, born and raised.” He smiles, but his emotions contradict his expression.
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“It’s a small town, but the island gets tons of tourists in the summer. We have a lot of outdoor stuff to do, so yeah, that part is nice.”
“Are you in high school?”
“Starting senior year next week,” he says as I pay for the groceries.
“So am I. How exciting,” I add with my not-so-great sarcastic humor.
Kyle’s lips curl into a smirk. He walks out of the cashier’s area and toward my shopping cart. “Let me help you out with these bags.” He doesn’t wait for me to say no, he just takes my cart and walks out to the parking lot.
“Where’s your car?”
“Right over here.” I lead him to it and open the trunk.
“Nice ride!” His eyes rove the vehicle. “Yours?”
“Yeah, it’s a really safe car.”
He lifts an eyebrow, “Was that the line you used to get your folks to buy it?”
“No, that was the line they used to get me to drive it. Believe me, you don’t want to drive in New York City traffic.”
“I can imagine.” He shakes his head in agreement and sets the last of the bags in the trunk.
“Hey, thanks for the help and all,” I say, feeling a bit more comfortable around him.
This perks him up. “No problem.”
He turns to leave, but he stops short and faces me again. I feel his nerves spike. “We’re throwing a party at a friend’s house tomorrow,” he begins hesitantly. “Most of the seniors will be there. It would be a chance for you to meet people before school starts.”
“That’d be fun,” I tell him. “If you give me the address for the party, I’ll try to stop by.” I doubt that I’ll make it. It would be awkward to show up at a party where I don’t know anyone. Besides, too many people and their emotions in one place is a recipe for a migraine.
“I’ll text you.” Kyle pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Just dial your number and I’ll add to my contacts.”
I type it in and hand his phone back to him. There’s a shot of triumphant relief that goes through him for getting my number so easily.
“See you later,” he says, and turns around to head back into the store, acting like his heart isn’t beating way too fast. I smile at that. He’s cute and nice. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go to this party, after all.
* * *
I get home and the boys are playing in the front yard. They swarm the car when they see me driving in. “Hi, guys,” I say as I step out. “How was the school?”
Gabe rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you know, just a school.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Help me carry these groceries in, will you?”
“Mom cooked breakfast today, and it was really good,” Ian says.
“That’s right!” I smile down at him. It is nice to have her home, but I wonder how long it will take for her to get bored and start missing her job.
After I’m done putting the groceries up, I change into my running clothes and put my bikini on underneath, hoping to find the lake Dad said we have on the property. When I’m about to step outside, Mom calls me back.
“Livia, where are you going?”
/> “Just a run—I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Be back before five o’clock. I want everyone here for dinner.”
That gives me plenty of time to find the lake. I should be able to find it quickly if I run fast, but I promised my uncle I wouldn’t risk exposing my abilities, so I just take my time.
After thirty minutes and four miles, I finally find the lake, and I can’t contain the smile on my face. It’s beautiful, secluded, and inviting. There are evergreens all around, giving it privacy. I see an open space in the trees that leads to a floating dock. I assume it’s for a paddleboat or canoe, because the lake is definitely not big enough for a motorboat. I shed my running clothes and take a running dive off the dock and into the water.
I love floating. It encourages a dreamlike state that is even better than sleep. It is where I find mental clarity—intensifying all my senses and deepening my meditation. That’s what I always did at Lake Placid—just floated for as long as I could, gaining perspective on whatever was going on in my life at the time. Floating is all I do for the time I have before I have to be home for dinner.
By the time I check my watch, it’s 4:30.
I swim back to the dock, and as I haul myself onto land, I realize I forgot a towel. I get my shirt on, but my shorts won’t come up over my soaking wet skin.
“Do you need a hand?”
I turn around as fast as I can, given my legs are bound in wet fabric. I stare him down and he stares back. His dark eyes don’t leave mine for one second. He’s taller than me, slim, fit, and I can see his strong arms under his black t-shirt. He rakes his hand through his thick brown hair, scratching his head in mock confusion. Something about him puts me on the edge—I bite my lip to keep my mouth from dropping open when I realize it.
I can’t read his feelings.
He raises his eyebrows and moves his lips as if he’s going to say something, but I don’t give him the chance to.
“Who are you?” I ask.
He tilts his head, his mouth slowly curving into a grin. “I am the owner of the lake you were just swimming in, but don’t worry, I’m not calling the cops; unless, of course, you do it again.”
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