by Cassia Leo
He thought it might be genetic, if that was a trait which could even be passed genetically. Augustus’ own sister Evangeline had been the same. Evangeline was part of a team who earned a spot on the Nobel prize shortlist for physics. The entire family was talented, but there were the few dark horses as well, like Ana and Evangeline, who operated on a completely different plane. Augustus could only theorize on their motives and abilities, because he couldn’t understand them.
Ana once said it felt like there was more than one of her, and that the two parts were always in conflict. Augustus had sent her to counseling after that. The first counselor diagnosed her with Asperger’s, and the second said she most certainly did not have anything actually wrong with her, per se, but that children with higher IQ’s sometimes had more challenges adapting to social situations. Neither diagnosis was useful in the end, because Ana’s trouble was not with social situations at all. She never had problems making friends, having been involved in sports and clubs, and even a sorority in college. Her trouble was with herself.
It had been his idea to send her to Maine, when she said she needed to leave for a while. While Ana was generally restless, before she decided to leave she had grown exceedingly agitated and even more withdrawn than usual. When he broached the idea, she simply smiled and said thanks. What she would get out of it, he could hardly guess. He’d come to a point where he stopped hoping for her to be something he desired, and instead wished for her personal happiness.
Their conversations had not changed much over thirty years.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“Good.”
“Anything new going on?”
“Not really.”
He made her call him every week from Maine. Would have preferred more often, but he knew she hated small talk, and he was consumed by things at the office anyway. Even as a child, she had only engaged in conversation when there was a point. She could never understand the value in “bullshitting about the weather.” Another sign business management was not in her future.
Augustus checked the clock: 9:50. Barbara was only patient until ten or so and then the calls would start. He couldn’t fault her. He did work incredibly long hours, seeming to disregard her needs. Ana hadn’t called yet, and probably wouldn’t at this hour. She was supposed to call several days ago, but hadn’t. He presumed she had lost track of time, so he called her instead, but she didn’t pick up. He was disappointed, even knowing Ana thought talking on the phone was the worst torture. He hoped that she would put her misgivings aside for their weekly ritual because she loved him.
Sometimes he considered her difficulties a misunderstanding, and then moments like these, he thought she was simply a brat.
As if on cue, Barbara called. His secretary went home hours ago, so he answered it himself. “Turkey sounds lovely,” he said, shutting down his computer as his wife told him with hopeful excitement about how she had first brined, and then injected sauces into the bird, continuing to describe the rest of her evening with the same detail. She had taken to making dinner later now, since the last time he came home before eight was when Ana was still living at home.
“On my way home now, dear,” Augustus said, as he slipped his arms through his trench coat. He would have to try Ana again tomorrow.
***
20- NICOLAS
Worthless overseer. What do we even pay him for? Nicolas wondered.
He had called Whitman, who was decidedly useless. “The roads are closed,” he said. “And most of the phone lines have been unreliable.”
“Don’t you guys have snowplows and shit?” Nicolas was incredulous. Shouldn’t they be used to this stuff by now?
Heavy sigh. Clearly thinks I’m a complete idiot, Nicolas thought. “Aye, Mr. Deschanel. We do have snowplows, but ya have to understand that when God decides he is goin’ to play his games, man’s machines can only do s’much.”
“Master of the metaphors I see, but I fail to understand how your island can completely shut down in a storm, when storms are pretty much the only thing you have up there, no?”
Another sigh, possibly annoyance this time. “No’sir, ya forgot moose, and Stephen King.”
Nicolas smiled. Oh, he has jokes now. “Look. You may think I am being difficult but I haven’t spoken with my cousin in a week. It is unlike her. She isn’t answering her phone when I call, and—”
“Her phone is prolly down,” Alex interjected.
“Yes, or she isn’t answering because something is wrong.” When Alex didn’t respond, he added, “Isn’t there someone who can check on her? Surely you have emergency vehicles?”
“We do, but only fer emergencies.”
Nicolas was growing angry, but tried to keep his voice level. As unhelpful as he was, Alex was also the only person Nicolas had contact with on the island, and who might be able to help him figure this out. “Would a missing person in a storm not be an emergency, Mr. Whitman?”
“We dunno know that she’s missing. It’s not uncommon a’tall for people to go dark when the big storms hit. We only have s’much equipment to clear the roads, and the island doesn’t have the power and phone resources that the cities do. We can sometimes be without power, or phones, for weeks. Heck, we even had a winter where we were dark almost the entire season. People here are used to this, and they have expensive generators, and solid planning, and we get through it.”
“But Ana is not used to this. This is her first Maine winter… well, hell, it’s her first difficult winter. All we ever get is a drop in humidity here. She has no idea what she is doing,” Nicolas reminded him.
“I went over there barely a week ago and helped her winter-proof the house. I showed her how t’use the generator, and where the food storage went. With all due respect, I went out of m’way to make sure she did know what she was doing ‘fore the storm hit.” Alex sounded more proud than defensive.
When Nicolas said nothing, Alex offered, “Maybe I could try to call the neighbors. There’s only a couple’a houses out on the bend where she lives. The St. Andrews boys are good folks, so if they’re not snowed in I could ask them t’check on her.”
Nicolas brightened a bit. Now they were getting somewhere. “Perfect. But if her phone lines are down, won’t theirs be too? And for that matter, shouldn’t yours be?”
“I live on the other side of the island. They usually go down in sections. But yea, if hers are down, theirs will be too. Though, if they answer—”
“Then we know it’s not her phone line,” Nicolas finished, realizing the implications of Alex making this phone call. What would he do if something was wrong with her? Hopefully one of the boys could go check on her, but what if they couldn’t? He was getting ahead of himself, and was never at his best when his mind spun this way. Nicolas felt that same helplessness he did when his sister went missing, and he did not like the feeling at all. Stop over-thinking this, you idiot. You’re acting like Oz.
“Can you call now?” Nicolas pressed.
“Absolutely. And I will call ya right back.”
“Please do.”
***
21- ALEX
Alex cradled the phone and released a long, exhausted breath. He did not like liars, but lying was exactly what he was going to need to do. And do it well. He was taught never to tell untruths, like all kids that were well-raised, but even his mother recognized there were times when a lie was not only better, but safer, than the truth. She had died believing it.
Though several days had passed, his nerves hadn’t recovered from overhearing Ana and Finn’s conversation. While his mind searched for the right thing to do next, as the storm worsened, his options became smaller in number. He was far from giving up, however. The call from Ana’s cousin only quickened his desire for resolution. If Ana wasn’t communicating with her family, either, then Alex knew he had no time to waste. He only hoped he was not too late.
Alex took another deep breath. With one hand he squeezed the back of the chair, and with
the other he slowly dialed the phone. Nicolas Deschanel answered on the first ring.
“Good news! Ana is just fine. She was a little shaken up from the storm, so she’s been staying with the boys. They’re taking good care of her, ya know, so alls’ well.” Alex hoped he sounded as convincing as he was trying to come across.
Silence and then finally a long sigh. “Thank… god.” Another sigh, and then a short laugh. “I know it probably seemed like I was overreacting, but I was worried, with it being her first winter and all…” he rambled on some more, but Alex only heard bits and pieces because the realization Nicolas believed his lie filled him with nervous excitement.
“Aw, don’t fret. It’s natural to worry about yer loved ones and she is lucky to have someone care so much. I’m sure once she is back home, she will give ya a call and tell ya all about it. Heck, I’m sure she’d call from their house, but long distance is so expensive these days…” As soon as it was out of his mouth, Alex regretted it. Long distance is free you idgit!
A long pause from Nicolas Deschanel’s end. “Sure, sure, well I appreciate your help Mr. Whitman, and if you happen to talk to them again, tell her she can call collect.” Damn. Well, at least he didn’t call me out for lying. “Okay?”
“Of course, I sure will, Mr. Deschanel. Now take care.”
“Yes… you too.”
“Do be sure to call if I can be of anymore assistance.” Please stop talking, Alex chastised himself.
Once he was off the line, Alex sunk into the sofa and closed his eyes. He hadn’t lied about calling the boys. He started calling them the morning after the storm started, long before Nicolas Deschanel had reached out asking him for help. Unlike Nicolas, Alex realized that even a day without communication with Ana was worrisome. He didn’t need nearly a week to trigger a call to action. He knew she needed him.
When the brothers didn’t answer his calls, Alex thought, Well let’s try the Auslanders, who lived on the other side of Ana, further around the bend. Much to his surprise, they did answer.
“Oh, Mrs. Auslander, so sorry to bother ya,” he said. “Yer phone lines are fine then, yea?”
“Oh yea, they haven’t gone down at all. Lucky year, Mr. Whitman. It’s only the roads right now,” she said.
Phones were fine there, which meant they should be fine at Ana’s and at the St. Andrews place. Yet, neither were answering. “Say, Gertrude, ya haven’t heard or seen anything from the new girl have ya? I was just wantin’ to check in with her and make sure she’s faring okay.”
When Gertrude responded, she lowered her voice, and it sounded like she was covering the phone with her hand. “See, I was hoping she had come to stay with you for the storm. The lights in her house have been off for days, and no one has turned them on at all. I know, I was watchin’.”
Ana Deschanel was not the first person to struggle in a Maine storm, nor would she be the last. But he knew that getting her family involved would only worry them unnecessarily. The island was closed, and until it was open, there would be nothing they could do for Ana.
But now that Alex knew for sure she was missing, his mind resumed churning. If he was waiting for the road to clear, he could be waiting awhile. Enough thinking, he told himself. Inaction is doin’ nothin’ for that girl, and it may already be too late.
It was time for Alex to get involved.
***
22- NICOLAS
Bullshit. Nicolas could smell it, but what he didn’t know was exactly what his senses were detecting.
Ana had mentioned these boys before. The younger brother she hadn’t met yet (Had been avoiding, Nicolas thought). But Jonathan St. Andrews... Nicolas knew she didn’t like him. Their interactions had been very unpleasant, enough that she had taken the time to talk about the man’s rudeness at length with Nicolas.
So now he was supposed to accept she was hanging out, drinking hot cider, and playing Yahtzee with them? Something about that was not sitting right. Then there had been a marked changed in Alex’s tone. On the first call, he sounded annoyed. On the second, he was overly eager to help. Nicolas felt pretty certain Alex wasn’t being forthcoming, but what he could not understand, no matter how much he racked his brain, was why.
He considered a Deliverance-style situation. Obviously they had to eat during the winter. Then he imagined a sex-slave ring where she was sold to some Ukrainians. She was thirty, but still had her looks, and she could easily still pass for twenty-two in the right light. It wasn’t that far-fetched.
Even at his most imaginative, though, Nicolas had a hard time believing they were keeping her as a food source or a means of income. But if not those scenarios, then what?
Nicolas made some phone calls. First he checked into flights, and although some were cancelled, they expected to have more operational the following week into Portland, and sooner into Boston. He then checked the Coast Guard, and they recommended he call the Casco Bay Ferry service. The man there told him even if he could get a flight into the area, getting to the island was a no-go for a while. Sometimes, he said, when the winters were wicked harsh, the ferries might not run at all. He told Nicolas there were some private services, but they were even less likely to run in bad weather.
Nicolas was stuck with information he was fairly certain to be inaccurate, and no means of going there to check for himself. No, he did not like this situation at all, and was beyond the point of denying how much it was bothering him.
His options: Sit back and let the helplessness consume him… or find a way to get on to that island and help Ana?
***
23- JONATHAN
Ana was still unconscious a week after they found her. Jon didn’t have the experience to know when she might wake up, or what kept her from doing so. All he could do was continue to ensure she had fluids, nutrients, and regular monitoring.
Although Jon had seen patients at his father’s practice independently—usually when Andrew was out of town or tending to an emergency—this was by far the most complex and serious case he had managed himself. If it weren’t for his father’s training, Ana might have died. Equally, if his father hadn’t been a medical cowboy with all his contraband equipment, Jon wouldn’t have had the needed resources.
Finn kept a vigilant watch. He still slept by her side, and spent most of the day either by her bedside or checking in on her. He had an old copy of Walden Pond he read to her off and on. It was one of Finn’s favorite reads. Jon always found it funny his proletarian, fisherman brother loved reading Thoreau, but he never teased him about it.
Jonathan knew there was no real medical evidence that talking or reading to an unconscious patient helped in any significant way. It was usually prescribed for the families, not the patients. But when Jon suggested it, Finn leapt at the idea. He was looking for anything that might make him feel useful.
The storm had worsened, continuing a few days after they found her. Finn predicted it would last a night, but it had lasted three, with no wane in intensity over its course. They were now buried in two feet of snow, with the roads closed for the foreseeable future. Summer Island was virtually shut down... and shut off from the rest of the world.
When Jon saw the number of the overseer come up on his phone display, he felt a sinking feeling deep within him. He knew why Alex Whitman was calling, and he also knew Alex didn’t like him one bit. Alex was one of the few people on the island who did not accept Jon for who he was, and anytime they passed in town, he could see Alex taking his measure. He was pretty certain Alex figured him for a closet serial killer or some other sort of psychopath, and Jon did not possess the skills, or the desire, to set the record straight.
The funny thing was, Jon thought the same thing about Alex. While Finn laughed it off, claiming Alex was simply goofy, Jon could never shake the suspicion that Alex knew more about his parents’ murders than he let on. Most of the islanders felt sympathy for the man who had, as a boy, watched his parents be slaughtered, miraculously escaping. To Jon, Alex often bore the
shifty, dishonest look of someone hiding something significant.
But while Jon had never gossiped about Alex, he was not certain Alex had done him the same courtesy. There were others on the island who would take their animals to Jon’s office and keep an eye on him the entire time, their face betraying their real feelings. What did they think, that he had become a vet for some sick and twisted purpose?
People fear what they don’t understand, Finn had said once. You’re not an open book, so they can’t read you. And if they can’t read you, they fill in the blanks with their own ideas. Human nature is distrustful.
It’s really none of their business who I am, Jon said.
Since when have people on this island cared what is, and is not, their business?
So yes, there were a handful of people on the island who assumed the worst about Jon. If there were more, they were better about hiding their feelings. The overly suspicious handful included Jon’s neighbors two houses down: Gertrude and Hans Auslander.
The Auslanders were second generation Germans, both born on the island. The rumor around town was that they were also cousins... as in, their parents were first cousins. They had no children, and were both nearing seventy. Nosy, assumptive, they both were extremely prolific within the gossip circles. Many of the island’s rumors started with the couple. In the case of Jon, he was almost positive Gertrude was responsible for ninety percent or more of the slander about him. While she was quite pleasant to his face, Jon knew what a malicious piece of work she was.