The Island

by Clarissa Johal

  “That’s what I told you, angel face,” Gideon said. “You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think you shook yourself up pretty good. You still look off-kilter and you’re as pale as a ghost.”

  “I’m fine.” Emma ran her hands through her hair.

  “Fine enough to have some food?” He waited a beat. “That’s what I thought. C’mon. I’ll find you some extra blankets, and get you situated. It’s going to be a cold one. Upstairs gets chilly when the kitchen’s not up and running.” He glanced at Nathanial, who nursed his coffee thoughtfully. “You docking for the night then, Nate?”

  “Um…yeah. I’ll keep an eye on the home front,” he said with a taut smile. “See you tomorrow morning, Emma.”

  Emma followed Gideon up the creaky wooden stairs. Her body felt leaden. Her thoughts were spinning in circles. “Did Fae ever mention…anything weird about the island?”

  “Weird?” He turned to look at her. “Like what?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing in particular. She spent a long time out there. By herself.”

  “The island’s secluded.” He continued up the stairs. “It can do strange things to a person.”

  “The locals say Sownipok is cursed. I never really asked how or by what,” Emma fished. “Do you know what they mean by that?”

  “There’s a couple stories flying around.”

  “What kind of stories?”

  “Eh. There’s one that says the island has an ‘evil heart.’ Couple of the locals tried to stop the resale before your grandmother bought it. Seems to me a good old-fashioned ‘keep away from the cliffs’ sign would suffice.”

  I doubt it, Emma thought. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her body.

  “Problem with you Kellers is you can’t seem to stay put. You wander and get into trouble.” Gideon pulled a worn quilt from underneath the bed. “Next owner needs to be told the island has some iffy spots and to stay away from them. Simple as that.”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch, Gideon.” Emma sunk to the threadbare couch. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  “Suit yourself.” He handed her the quilt. “Sure nice of Nate to see you back to the mainland.”

  “Nathanial’s not ‘seeing’ me anywhere,” she said. “He’s got something to do.”

  “Don’t recall him having ‘something to do’ the whole ten years I’ve known him.” He held up his hands. “I’m just making an observation.”

  “I’m going to take a nap.”

  “You do that,” Gideon said. “Give me a holler when you wake up and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  She lay exhausted but unable to sleep. Her thoughts kept returning to the island. You’re safe. Stop. Emma got up and wandered to the window. Nathanial stood on the pier, gazing out at the ocean. She stared at him for a long while. Maybe I’ll take a shower.

  Emma avoided looking at herself in the mirror. She flipped on Gideon’s shower. The sound of the water reminded her of rain hitting the ground. It was the same sound she’d heard while Thim had tried to strangle her. She flipped it off again.

  Emma curled up on the couch and pulled the quilt over her head.

  * * *

  Screaming, full of chaos and anger. The sound ripped through her core and clutched her heart like talons. Grief burned through her like hot coals. Emma fell into a black ocean. The water closed over her head like a fist. Closer and closer, the tide pulled her to the shores of Sownipok. The screams became louder and were coupled with a pitiful wail. The sounds burrowed into her brain like beetles and refused to let go.

  Emma sat up with a cry. Adrenaline surged throughout her body. Her heart pounded and her head hurt. She clutched the quilt to her chest and lay down again.

  “You all right?” Gideon’s voice sounded from the stairwell.

  “I’m fine,” Emma called back. She wiped the sweat from her brow. “Just a nightmare.”

  After several seconds, she heard Gideon go back down. Her throat hurt and her body was tense. I’m not going to be able to sleep. Maybe some tea, if Gideon has any.

  Emma wrapped the quilt around her and trailed down the stairwell. She heard Gideon talking to someone and stopped.

  “She’s fine. Taking a nap right now.” Pause. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave until tomorrow.”

  Sitting quietly on the step, Emma strained to hear the phone conversation.

  “The island can do strange things to people,” Gideon continued. “Fae went kind of funny after several years there. You know that.” Another pause. “Nate will make sure she makes it back in one piece. He assured me of that. You take care now. Talk soon.”

  Nathanial’s only going back with me because Gideon asked him to. Disappointment washed over her. Duh. It’s not like he’s interested in me or anything. Emma started down the stairs again, making noise.

  Gideon turned with a surprised look on his face. “Hey there, little one.”

  “Hey.”

  “Can’t go back to sleep?”

  “I have a headache,” Emma said. “Was that Dad?”

  “Yep,” Gideon replied, turning a little red. “Forgot to ask him about something. Ready for some dinner?”

  “Do you have any tea?”

  “Tea?” He scratched his grizzled chin. “Can’t say that I do. Nobody ever asks for it. I’ve got some coffee brewed.”

  “Coffee then.”

  He poured a mug and set it in front of her. “How about I fry you up some fish?”

  “Sure.” A small puddle of coffee had spilled on the counter. Emma traced her fingertip through it, drawing a tear.

  After several moments, Gideon returned from the kitchen. “Eat this up and you’ll be right as rain.” He set the plate of fish and chips in front of her. “Fried is perfect for headaches. Better than aspirin.”

  She half-heartedly picked up a fork.

  “You need an aspirin? I can check to see if I have some—”

  “I’m just tired, Gideon.”

  He assessed her with worried eyes. “Maybe an early night for you then.”

  “Stop hovering.”

  “I’m not…hovering.” He picked up a rag and wiped the counter.

  Emma’s head was still pounding when she turned in for the night. She pulled the pillow over her face and waited for sleep to come. When it didn’t, she got up and opened the bedroom window a crack. The pier was empty. A single light glowed from Nathanial’s boat. Emma’s fingers went to the deep puncture wound on her throat. She braced herself against the memory of Thim’s face as he pierced her with his claw. Stop thinking about it. You’re safe. Anxiety welled up inside her.

  The night was a restless one, her dreams filled with disturbing and dark images. At one point, she woke, thinking someone had called her name. Gideon’s snoring sounded from the other room, and she lay back down. The ocean breeze slipped through the window and caressed her face. Without warning, Emma felt the prick of tears. I can’t allow myself to fall apart. I can’t.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHE AND NATHANIAL stood on the deck of the ferry. Seagulls drifted along in its wake. The sun had risen, tingeing the horizon orange. The ocean was calm. A slight breeze blew across the deck.

  Nathanial glanced at her. “You’ve been quiet all morning.”

  She looked away and allowed her hair to cover her face. “Gideon was fussing over me so much, I didn’t really have a chance to say anything.”

  “He talks when he gets nervous,” Nathanial remarked.

  “I guess I made him nervous.”

  “He’s just worried about you.”

  Emma turned to face him. “What was it you had to do on the mainland?”

  “I…have a friend on the mainland.” Nathanial looked taken aback. “We don’t see each other often. Plus, I thought we might figure out what to do. About the island and…you know.”

  “We?”

  “This may be about your family’s island, but I’m in this too,” he said
quietly.

  Hesitant, Emma nodded. “I just don’t want you to think you’re obligated—”

  “Between my parents, Fae and you—” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I want to figure out how to fix this as badly as you do.” He studied her, his eyes a deep gold. “And I’m not obligated.”

  “Okay.” She looked away again.

  “I was thinking—” he started.

  His sentence was cut short by a large group of people who had exited their van to take some photos. “Would you mind?” An elderly woman held her camera out to them. “Family reunion,” she added. “I’d love to get a picture of all of us.”

  Emma took the camera from her. Much to her chagrin, the family chose to strike up a conversation that lasted for the remainder of the ferry ride.

  She parted with Nathanial at the terminal with plans to meet for dinner. Not a date, she told herself. Dinner just happened to come up. They both had to eat, she reasoned. And they still needed to discuss what they were going to do, if anything. First things first, though, she needed to talk to her dad about putting the sale of the island on hold.

  Emma picked up a spare key from her landlord. She unlocked her apartment with a relieved sigh.

  Bare of decoration, the best description of her one-bedroom was that it was functional. The kitchen had few appliances. The living room window faced a busy street. Emma kept the drapes closed to afford some privacy. Her bedroom held little else other than a futon and bedside table. Three dresses hung in her small closet. Her jeans and t-shirts were folded into a single milk crate. It wasn’t much, she reflected, but it was all she needed. And it’s safe. She set her key on the bedside table and went into the bathroom to wash up.

  She looked at herself in the mirror for the first time since leaving Sownipok. Her cheek was scraped and bruised. Her lip was split where Thim had backhanded her. More bruises sided her neck and there was a deep puncture wound in her throat. Taking it all in, a rush of anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. It was followed by the irrational feeling she needed to return to the island. No, you don’t. The island can rot. What’s wrong with you?

  Emma shed her clothes. The state of her body brought the reality of the situation into focus. He would have killed me. A flash of Thim’s face, full of rage and intent on draining her in whatever way would sustain him, filled her mind’s eye. She flipped on the shower and stepped in. Heedless of the cold spray, Emma sank into the tub and pulled her knees to her chest. Strand by strand, she began to unravel. Her sobs echoed against the tile. She hoped her neighbors weren’t around, or she’d have some explaining to do later. She cried herself out before pulling herself together again. Gently, she washed her face. The soap stung her lip and cheek. It’s over. Focus on the fact that Dad is alive. You’re meeting Nathanial for dinner later too, if he bothers to show. Get it together. She finished her shower and dried off.

  Emma wandered into her closet and started to grab a t-shirt. Several bruises dotted her arms. She opted for a long-sleeved dress instead. Slipping the red-knit dress over her head, she checked her reflection in the mirror. The long sleeves covered her arms, but the bruises on her neck could still be seen above the neckline. Grabbing a black silk scarf, she wrapped it around her throat. For a brief moment, she felt as if she were being strangled and quickly loosened and rearranged the material. There. Between the long sleeves and the scarf, the only thing that looks worse for wear is your face.

  She avoided looking herself the eye. “Everything’s fine. I can do this.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I’VE GOT MY KEY. Don’t get up,” Emma called from the front door as she opened it. She hurried to the bedroom where her dad lay, propped by several pillows. “Dad!” She buried her face in his chest and felt the prick of relieved tears. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  “I’m happy to see you too,” he said, somewhat surprised. “Emma, your poor face. Gideon said you were bruised. You did yourself proud.”

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, brushing off his concern.

  “Pretty good, considering. Margaret was just here and fussed over me good and proper. So if you were planning on doing that, you don’t need to.”

  “You need someone to fuss over you.”

  He caught her eye. “You okay? You look…different.”

  “I’m fine.” She smoothed his thinning hair and noticed a stack of papers beside the bed. “What are those?”

  “I have an appointment with the Realtor tomorrow. He’s stopping by at two.”

  “About that. Do we need to sell right away?”

  “That was the plan. Why?”

  “Well, um…do you think we could hold on to it for a while?”

  His face registered confusion. “Why would we want to do that, honey?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe we should keep Sownipok in the family.”

  “I thought you hated the place?”

  “No, I don’t hate it,” she lied.

  “Do you want the cabin? Because I think your grandmother would have liked you to have it. It would make for a nice vacation home. It’s very peaceful out there.”

  She noted the hopeful look on his face. “Um, yeah. I kind of got used to it.”

  “I’ll call the agent and tell him we’ve changed our minds then! We could take our next vacation together. I think that’s just what that place needs,” he said, gaining momentum. “The next generation of the Keller family. Some new blood.”

  New blood, she thought with a shiver. Her dad didn’t realize how close he was to nailing exactly what the island was waiting for. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “I’ll take some coffee.” He settled back with a smile. “No need to keep your grandmother’s things in the cabin, either. We can redecorate. I’ll give the movers a call and tell them to clear out what you packed. The rest of it can go to the—”

  “Don’t!” She caught his look of surprise. “I mean, don’t bother. I’ll take care of that.”

  “I can make a phone call, Emma. I’m not completely incapacitated.”

  “I’ll do it. I packed everything and know exactly how many boxes they’ll need to move.” She forced a smile and gave him a quick hug. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Very funny.”

  Emma surveyed the kitchen while she waited for the coffee to brew. Her dad wasn’t the tidiest of men, but it looked as if Margaret had given everything a recent once-over. A vase of pretty yellow roses sat next to the sink. A delicate-looking pink scarf was draped next to them. I guess that’s Margaret’s idea of a woman’s touch. You’re going to have to be pushier than that, Margaret dear. Dad’s a bit oblivious. I owe you one, though.

  “I think we should plan a trip out to the island this summer,” her dad called from the bedroom. “You could invite some of your friends, I could invite some of mine…”

  “I’m pretty busy at work during the summer.” A steady trickle of water dripped from the faucet. Emma held her hand under it, catching it in her palm. You need to go back. The thought took her off guard. “I…can’t take the time off right now.”

  “Once you have some time off then,” he called back.

  Emma shook the water from her palm. “I guess Margaret tidied the kitchen,” she said, changing the subject. “I don’t think I’ve seen it look so clean.”

  “My doctor says I can’t move heavy things.”

  Emma finished fixing his coffee and joined him again. “Dish soap and cleaning rags are pretty heavy,” she teased. “Here you go. Fifty spoonfuls of sugar and a gallon of cream.”

  “Four sugars,” he said with mock indignation. “I eat very healthy.”

  “Maybe that will work on Margaret, but it won’t work on me,” Emma scoffed. “I love you Dad, but I know you put sugar on everything.”

  “Busted,” he said with a grin. “So, Gideon was telling me about Nathanial. Is he someone I need to meet?”

  “He’s a fisherman, and no you don’t.”

  “A fisherman, huh?” He sippe
d his coffee. “Gideon said he took the ferry in with you. Was there a reason or…?”

  “You two matchmakers are worse than old women,” Emma said, her cheeks warming. “Leave me alone.”

  “I feel like I owe him a thank you for rescuing you. Were you two planning on meeting up at some point?”

  “We’re meeting for dinner tonight.” Emma narrowed her eyes. “And no, I’m not bringing him by because you’ll just embarrass me.”

  “Me?” Her dad feigned surprise. “I would never—”

  “He lives on his boat, Dad. You know how much I love the ocean.”

  “Well, I sure wouldn’t mind thanking him for saving my little girl,” he persisted. “Gideon said he was a good-looking chap too.”

  Emma stood and picked up a sweater lying across a chair. “Is this Margaret’s? What have you two been doing? Scarves in the kitchen and her sweater in here…”

  “Very funny, missy. She had some errands to run.”

  There was the sound of a key in the front door.

  “It’s me, Avery!” Margaret’s unmistakable lilt sounded from the other room. “I rented us a movie.” A woman wearing a yellow chiffon dress and heels walked in. “Emma! My goodness, what on earth happened to your face? Your father and I were worried sick when we heard there had been an accident. Let me get you some ointment and a Band-Aid.” She breezed out again.

  “I would have taken care of your scrapes and cut,” he said sheepishly. “If I wasn’t indisposed.”

  “You would have told me to suck it up whether or not you were indisposed,” she countered. “You probably don’t even own a Band-Aid.”

  “Here we go, Emma.” Margaret bustled back in. “I bought these for your father. The poor man didn’t even own a bag of cotton balls. I’ll just give that scrape a dab and then we can put a Band-Aid on it.”

  “The ointment is fine, but no Band-Aides, okay?” Emma said. “I’m meeting someone tonight.”

  “Is that why you’re wearing a dress?” Margaret asked. “I was going to say something, but—”

  “Emma’s going on a date with the young man who rescued her.”