The Island

by Clarissa Johal

  “I don’t know how I feel about you going out there alone, Emma,” Gideon frowned. “Your dad didn’t fare very well—”

  “I won’t even go near the cliffs. I promise.”

  “Still.”

  “I’m a big girl.”

  “Not so big,” he replied with a grin.

  “Don’t be funny,” she retorted. “I can always wait until morning and hire my own boat, you know.”

  “I’ll take you out,” Nathaniel said, cutting through their banter.

  Gideon eyed him. “Well, that would be a favor, all right.”

  “It’s on my route.” Nathanial nodded toward the cooler. “That should be enough to get you through until Tuesday.”

  “I’ll take what you got.” Gideon opened it and looked inside. “Good catch, Nate. I’ll pay you for taking Emma out too.”

  “I can pay for that—” Emma started.

  “A special to go and we’ll call it even,” Nathaniel said, ignoring her.

  “You got it.” Gideon picked up the cooler and exited into the kitchen. The door swung shut behind him.

  Nathaniel returned his attention to Emma. “How long are you planning to stay on the island?”

  “I’m not sure,” Emma said. “I’ll need to pack the rest of Fae’s things and clean.”

  “Do you have food?” He eyed her damp sweater. “A jacket?”

  “In my backpack. I have my parka and an extra pair of shoes. Some granola bars and soup—”

  “Electricity?”

  “They were supposed to turn it on this weekend—”

  “I need to check my engine before we leave.”

  “Okay…” Emma’s sentence trailed as she watched him leave. “Whatever.” She joined Gideon in the kitchen. “Mr. Cheerful’s a man of few words.”

  “Nate? Aw, he’s okay.”

  “Is he a local?” she asked. “I don’t remember seeing him around.”

  “His folks were from up north.”

  “Were?”

  Gideon battered a fish fillet before dropping it into the hot oil. “Nate used to pull a fishing route with his dad during the summer. His mom would go out with them from time to time. They got caught in a pretty bad storm one night. Both his parents drowned and the boat was sent wayward. Your grandmother found Nate washed up on her beach.”

  “That’s terrible. She never mentioned it.”

  “I don’t expect she would. Nate stuck around and started pulling a regular fishing route. Kind of a loner, but he’s a good guy.” Seeing her look of doubt, Gideon patted her hand. “No worries, Emma. I trust him.”

  “If you say so,” Emma said begrudgingly.

  “He used to take a weekly catch out to Fae. He was the one who contacted authorities when she went missing, as a matter of fact.”

  “Well, wasn’t that nice of him?” Emma said without feeling.

  “You still holding a grudge?” Gideon questioned. “Best let bygones be bygones, girl.”

  “Last time I saw her, she sent me home, Gideon,” Emma said, bitterness welling up inside her. “Without even a goodbye.”

  “Had a temper sometimes, like somebody else I know.”

  “I do not have a temper!”

  “Nope, none at all.”

  “She’d make me stay inside the whole time when I’d visit,” she muttered. “It was boring.”

  He shook his finger at her. “Well, mind if you go exploring the island. Wouldn’t want you to end up like your dad.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Fae lived there for years and nothing happened to her.”

  Gideon raised his grizzled eyebrows.

  “Well…except that.”

  “Give me a call when you’re done packing her things.” He sliced a potato into wedges. “Not sure when I’ll have my boat up and running, but I’ll send someone to pick you up. Maybe Nate would do the honors for another special.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Saw you giving him the eye.”

  Emma felt herself blush. “I was not.”

  “He’s single.”

  “Shut up, Gideon,” she said. “I swear you and dad are worse than old ladies.” She looked up guiltily as the kitchen door opened.

  “Ready?” The lights from the kitchen reflected the gold in Nathanial’s eyes. He fastened his gaze upon her.

  Damn. He is good looking, though. She caught Gideon’s smirk and busied herself by straightening a stack of plates.

  “Special’s almost done,” Gideon said to him. “I’ll pack an order of chips and gravy for you, Emma. Still your favorite, eh?”

  “I brought food—”

  “Placate an old salt and let me do that much.”

  Her protest died on her lips. “Thanks, Gideon.”

  “I hope you don’t get sea sick,” Nathaniel said. “The waves are choppy tonight.”

  “I don’t get sea sick.” The kitchen door shut again and Emma gave Gideon a sheepish look.

  “You’ll be all right,” Gideon assured her. “Tell Nate there’s a fresh pot of coffee on.”

  She reluctantly left the kitchen to deliver the message. “Um…Gideon says there’s coffee, if you want it.”

  Nathanial stood, staring out the front window as if lost in thought. He turned and walked silently to the coffee maker. Filling his mug, he added a liberal dash of cream.

  Emma’s attention was drawn to a chain around his neck. A small, engraved pewter bell hung from it. Delicate-looking, it seemed out of character. Catching her look, Nathanial tucked the necklace into his sweater. She quickly turned her attention to her backpack.

  “One special and an order of chips and gravy to go,” Gideon said as he joined them again. He handed Emma a paper bag. “I packed two flashlights, some lighter fluid, batteries and a couple other things you might need.”

  Emma gave him an impulsive hug. “Thanks, Gideon. You’re a sweetheart.”

  “That’s what they tell me.” He placed his hands on his hips. “You be careful, angel face. Give me a call if you have any problems. Take care of her, Nate.”

  * * *

  The pier was blanketed in thick fog. A steady slosh of waves sounded against the docks. Emma pulled up the hood of her parka to ward off the chill. Nathanial had the easy and graceful gait of a fisherman. She hurried to keep up with him, hoping she wouldn’t lose her footing on the slick pier. Which would be a classic Emma move, she thought grimly.

  A neat-looking cabin cruiser sat anchored at the last dock. Ophelia’s Dream was stenciled in fancy lettering along the side.

  “Wow,” Emma said. “That’s not what I expected.”

  “What were you expecting?” Nathaniel asked sharply. He immediately looked contrite. “My dad bought it for my mom.”

  “Oh,” Emma said, feeling awkward. “It’s really…nice.”

  “Watch your step.” He started to take her elbow and stopped, seeming to think better of it.

  Emma hoisted herself on board and then found a place to sit.

  Nathanial followed and eased himself into the cabin. Checking the controls, he started the engine. The boat lurched as they pulled away from the dock.

  Here we go. Emma clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering from the cold. The drizzle hit her face like pins and needles as they picked up speed. Hazy lights from the shore faded. She looked out at the endless ocean and fog and felt the beginnings of trepidation. If I can keep myself distracted, maybe I won’t throw up.

  “Where do you sell your catch?” she asked.

  Nathanial was silent for a moment before answering. “A couple ports along the coast.”

  “Do you live on the mainland when you’re not fishing?”

  “No.”

  “On one of the islands?”

  “I live on my boat.”

  “Don’t you get lonely?”

  “No.”

  The boat continued to pick up speed, its hull slapping against the waves. Salt-spray soaked her clothing and dampened her face. She glanced up at Nathanial, who kept
his attention on the horizon. No idle chit-chat from you, I guess. Emma pulled out her chips and gravy. Sea sick, be damned, she thought. It’ll give me something to do. He changed direction, and the boat swayed to one side. She closed the to-go box with a grimace. Never mind.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes.” She straightened, determined to appear as okay as she sounded.

  “If you’re going to be sick, do it over the side. I just cleaned the deck.”

  “I’m not going to be sick.” Frowning, she rooted in her backpack for something to take her mind off her queasy stomach. All she could come up with was a hair elastic. Emma pushed her hood back and proceeded to fitfully braid her hair. Securing the end, she looked up to catch Nathanial staring at her.

  “You look like Fae.”

  “I look old? Gee, thanks.”

  “No,” he said. “She used to wear her hair in a braid too. And your face…it’s the same shape.” He made a gesture. “Kind of like a heart.” He quickly turned his attention to piloting the boat again.

  Okay. Light from the console shadowed his face and Emma studied his profile. And you look like a Greek god. A beardless, brooding Poseidon, king of the sea. The rolling, endless, undulating sea. She looked away again.

  Almost an hour passed before Emma finally spotted the small island of Sownipok in the distance. The fog had cleared and the moon shone over a bare, flat-topped cliff that jutted from one end. The rest of the island was secreted with trees. As they approached, she could make out a narrow driftwood and debris-scattered beach that ran along the island’s perimeter.

  Nathaniel expertly maneuvered his boat and docked. He reached up and rang a bell that hung over the cabin. The sound shattered the silence.

  “There’s nobody here,” Emma remarked.

  He shrugged. “Tradition.”

  “Well, thank you for the ride.”

  He scanned the rocky shore and tree line. “Would you mind if I walked you to the cabin?”

  “I know my way.” She clicked on the flashlight Gideon had given her. “I’m not afraid of the dark, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “I have no doubt you can take care of yourself, but I promised Gideon I’d deliver you safely.” He gave her a furtive glance. “I don’t feel right about leaving you without checking the cabin first.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  They followed an overgrown footpath. A preternatural heaviness lay over the area. Spruce, pine and cedar trees stood like silent sentinels. As they walked farther, the distant crash of waves was replaced by the sound of bells. The sound became louder as the path ended at a rustic log cabin. Strings of bells and wind chimes hung around the cabin’s perimeter. The cacophony of clangs and jingles resonated across the breeze.

  Emma dropped her backpack onto the porch and pulled a key from her back pocket. Unlocking the door, an icy draft welcomed her from inside. She clicked on the light switch. “Dammit. The electricity was supposed to be turned on.”

  “There should be some oil lamps somewhere,” Nathanial said. “There’s the stove too.”

  “If there’s any wood left.” Emma’s flashlight cut through the darkness. Spying a tarp-covered woodpile, she let out a sigh of relief.

  “I’ll get it,” Nathanial said.

  Emma walked ahead of him and pulled the tarp back. The flashlight’s beam jerked dizzily through the gloom as she tucked it under her arm.

  Nathanial watched silently as Emma gathered an armful of firewood. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then. If you don’t need my help.”

  “I don’t.”

  He gave her a stiff nod and left.

  I’m not being rude, I just don’t need his help. “Thanks, Nathanial,” she called after him. His response was drowned out by the jangle of bells and chimes.

  Juggling the flashlight and firewood, Emma made it inside before dropping everything onto the floor. She picked up several of the logs and shoved them into the pot-bellied stove. After dousing them with the lighter fluid, she struck a match. The fire roared to life.

  “Voila. You rock the fire thing, Emma.” Hands on hips, she took in her surroundings.

  The one-bedroom cabin was small and constructed of maple logs. A layer of mildew and damp permeated the air. A braided rug was thrown haphazardly across a chair. A folding table, piled with yellowing papers, sat in the middle of the living room. Against one wall, a bookcase was stacked with books, though it looked as if her dad had been in the middle of packing them. Taped-up cardboard boxes were pushed against the walls. A box of unopened cleaning products sat on the floor. The curtains had been taken down.

  Under the living room window, several bowls had been placed on the floor. To a stranger’s eye, they may have been placed to catch leaks from the ceiling or the window. Emma knew better. The water inside the bowls had long ago evaporated and left a crusty layer of salt behind. She picked them up and walked into the tiny kitchen. The kitchen had been well-used at one point. Blackened pots and pans hung from hooks on the walls. Stacks of dishes could be seen in the open cabinets. Dusty glass jars were filled with cultivated dried herbs. Fae had kept a garden behind the cabin, and it’d been her pride and joy. Emma made a mental note to see what remained, if anything. She set the bowls on the counter and surveyed the dirty dishes that filled the sink.

  “I’m not washing dishes, that’s for damn sure,” she murmured. “Everything can go right into the garbage.”

  She wandered into the bedroom. Another row of bowls had been placed under the bedroom window. A wooden four-poster bed, bedside table and overflowing armoire were the only pieces of furniture. The armoire mirror had been smashed, its cracks like violent exclamations. The bed needed to be stripped. Dad said the mattress had a plastic cover and he wanted to keep it. Emma eyed the dusty quilt and let out a disgusted sound. Dad’s such a pack rat. The bedside table held a small lamp. The lampshade was missing. She peeked under the bed. Stacks of magazines and papers had been stored underneath.

  “Strike a match, Emma. Nobody will miss them.” She stood and caught her fractured reflection in the armoire mirror and made a face.

  Emma pushed open the creaky bathroom door. The claw-foot tub had rust stains. Various desiccated and cracked soaps littered the soap dish. Another broken mirror over the sink resembled a spider web.

  She wandered back into the living room. A tangible gloom seemed to cling to her skin. “I’ve got my work cut out for me, that’s for sure.” Her voice echoed through the empty cabin.

  Untying her sleeping bag from her backpack, she spread it out on the floor next to the wood stove. Bitterness sat in her gut like a stone. Ten years ago, she vowed she’d never return to Sownipok. After her grandmother’s disappearance, the option seemed resolved. And yet, here she was. I’m doing this for dad, not for Fae. Emma slipped into her sleeping bag and pulled it over her head.

  Bells and chimes resonated from outside. The sound worked its way under her skin like a troublesome thorn.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT WAS WELL-PAST SUNRISE by the time Emma stirred. The fire had burned down and her limbs ached. Remnants of a nightmare she couldn’t remember left her uneasy. A quick check around the cabin assured her she was alone. Of course I am. Who else would be here? She tried the light switch and was annoyed to see she still had no power.

  “No electricity, no coffee. Great.” She pulled a granola bar from her backpack and tried to find a clean spot at the table to sit. Papers covered the dusty surface. She pushed them aside. “At least I get an outside view.”

  The large front window looked out on what could be called a yard. Carpeted with pine needles and surrounded by trees, it was the perfect space to play. Many times in the past, Emma begged her grandmother to do just that. If Fae was in a good mood, Emma would be allowed outside under her grandmother’s watchful eye. She’d gather sticks and pine cones, building things and making up games. Once Fae decided to go back inside, however, Emma would have to go inside too. The good mood never
lasted.

  “Don’t dwell on the past,” she muttered. “You’ve got work to do.” Resigning herself to the task at hand, Emma quickly finished her breakfast. Starting on the bathroom, she scrubbed out the tub and the sink. She gave the broken mirror a swipe with the cleaning rag, and took in her reflection. Her light blue eyes, generous mouth and sprinkle of freckles across her nose were a Keller trait. She’d been told she was pretty many times, though she’d never really taken it in. And right now, I don’t look pretty. I look a thousand pieces of annoyed. Which is exactly how I feel. Emma pulled her blonde hair up in a topknot. “Dad needs you to do this and you will, Emma.” She turned her attention to the bathroom window. A string of tiny bells hung across the pane of glass, the ends of the cord looped and secured by two nails. A row of bowls sat on the floor underneath the sill. The sight of both brought back a memory in a rush.

  “I don’t want you to play with those. Hang them back up immediately.”

  “Why?” Emma asked. “I’m not going to hurt them.”

  “Did you hear me?” Fae’s eyes bordered between fear and anger. “Put them back, Emma.”

  “Yes, Grandmother.” Clutching the string of bells, she walked slowly to the window and hung them back up.

  “Don’t touch my things unless you ask permission. And be careful! You almost knocked over the bowls underneath. I just filled those this morning, and I’m not walking down to the beach again.”

  “You can fill them with regular water from the faucet,” Emma murmured.

  “Don’t be smart. You know it has to be sea water.”

  “Why?”

  “To keep out pests.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Can we go out for a walk?”

  “No. It’s getting dark.”

  “We can take a flashlight with us.”

  “I said no!”

  “I’m bored!”

  “If you’re bored, go read a book.” Fae turned away. “I don’t know why your father insists on sending you here.”

  Emma yanked the bells down and tossed them unceremoniously aside. She picked up her cleaning rag and saw the window had been nailed shut.