by Dale Mayer
She stood at the counter, grabbed the mayonnaise and spread the creamy white stuff over the slices of bread. “Part of the problem is the fact I just never really knew when to quit mothering her. I was always involved in my sister’s business because of her issues. And it was hard to step away from her.”
“Of course,” he said. “But, like you said, we need to set boundaries, and I’ve been catering to Jamie for a long time.”
He was busy cutting slices of ham when she looked at the bedroom door and frowned. “So, when I reach out, all I end up getting is this big black wall. Is that something he does to shut me out?”
Samson looked at her in surprise. “I have no clue,” he said. He glanced at his brother’s door and shrugged. “Most likely. Think about the fourteen-year old who doesn’t want to be told no.”
She nodded and smiled, picked up some of the sliced ham, placed mustard on the slice first, and then laid the ham on top of the bread with the mayo.
“Put on twice as much ham,” Samson said. “It won’t keep forever, and we have more supplies coming in. We’ll need the protein.”
“It’s amazing how hungry I am after that little bit of a walk,” Whimsy said with a smile. “Up and down those hills keeps you fit.”
“It does.”
By the time they made the sandwiches, she couldn’t believe the height of them.
“I’m not even sure I can get my mouth around that,” she confessed.
“Then take it apart and eat it in pieces if you want. I don’t have any problem with that. Jamie won’t have any problems either.” He carried the plates over to the table, leaving Jamie’s on the counter.
She sat down, flattened hers as much as she could, picked it up, and then started to eat. “It’s excellent,” she said in surprise.
Samson looked at her. “I don’t understand your surprise.” He picked up his half and took a huge bite.
She chuckled and went back to eating. With the hot cup of tea in front of her and a fire behind them, it was a nice cozy little setting. She wished his brother had come out, but then Samson hadn’t told him the food was ready. Probably not necessary with a telepath in the house, right? Or did he shut that off at will, or was it all random depending on his energy levels.
When Whimsy finished, she looked down at her empty plate. “Wow. I didn’t think I could eat all that.”
Samson nodded. “We eat a lot more when we’re on the island. Something about the fresh air and exercise versus living in a city with the smog and all the stress that’s entailed with living there.”
“Got it,” she said. “But I’m stuffed.” She pushed her plate back, pulled her tea toward her and took a sip. Then she sagged back in the chair with a happy sigh.
“You’re taking to life here faster than I thought,” Samson said. “Most people don’t.”
“Most people treat it like it’s a cabin and a week’s vacation, I imagine,” she said. “For me it just feels like home, and that’s not fair because it’s not my home. It’s your home.”
“Very true,” he said. “But you fit in well.”
“That’s me,” she said with a chuckle. “I was even looking at one of the islands close by, wondering if I could put up a cabin and enjoy my life there.”
“Do you want to be alone?” he asked. There was something deeper in his tone than he expected to reveal.
She smiled, her eyes warming. “No,” she said. “Not really. But I don’t want to live in a busy city either.”
“I understand,” he said. “However, I’m not sure any of the islands are available to build on.”
Whimsy got up and took her plate to the sink, then walked toward Jamie’s room. “I’ll see if he wants to come out,” she said suddenly. “It doesn’t feel right.”
Samson motioned at the door. “Feel free, but knock first.”
She nodded. “That’s something I learned from my sister as well.”
She knocked hard. When there was no answer, she knocked again.
Samson frowned, stood, walked over and opened his brother’s door. They both peered inside, and his heart stopped. Jamie was gone.
Chapter 22
Whimsy followed Samson out of the house. Their clothing was still damp from their earlier outing, but now, with Jamie gone, both were terrified where he might have gone to and knew he’d be soaked through. “He knows this island well, doesn’t he?” she asked, biting her bottom lip, hating the thought that maybe she had sent him running from what was essentially his home because of her.
“Yes,” Samson said, “we’ve explored it lots. But that doesn’t mean it’s safe to be out there now.”
“No, but he understands the dangers more than most of us, I believe,” she said. “Or am I wrong?”
“You’re correct,” he said in frustration. “Stay at the house please. I’ll search all the known areas where he is usually the happiest.” With that he headed into the trees.
“Take the dogs,” she cried out.
A whistle ripped through the air, and both animals raced to his side.
Whimsy watched as the clouds broke, and a torrent of rain poured down, soaking Samson before he made it to the trees. She was under the porch roof, and, if it wasn’t for the other circumstances, she would be thoroughly enjoying the craziness of the weather.
She loved a good storm. She found the passion and rage of Mother Nature to be inspiring. As long as she was safe and dry, then it was an incredible light display, even with the sounds and noises crackling around her in this very isolated setting. It was stupendously beautiful.
Alone here, with Jamie missing, it was a whole different feeling.
She wandered back inside, looking outside from window to window, hoping to catch sight of either man. She went back to Jamie’s room and checked to make sure he hadn’t left behind some indication of where he’d gone. But it wasn’t like he could just go down to the corner store or meet his friends in the nearby park. Her sister used to do things like that too. She would chafe at Whimsy’s regulations and bolt every once in a while.
Whimsy had understood, but, because her sister didn’t have the capacity to understand all the dangers around her, it was hard for Whimsy to give her sister as much rein as she would have liked. And, of course, her sister had made many dangerous decisions too. As it was, she’d passed away before Whimsy had had a chance to see her maturing, to see her acting as an adult, to see her more aligned with her biological age.
Jamie was so much like her sister, Whimsy realized. But she couldn’t coddle him either. Samson had done enough of that already.
In Jamie’s room was nothing but the stark white she remembered from before. The blankets were tossed carelessly on the bed. She picked up the blankets and smoothed them across the top. She wandered the small space, but, outside of his bags, still packed and discarded on the floor, nothing was here.
She studied the bags and frowned. They hadn’t come from the center, so where had he gotten them from? Or did he keep clothes at Samson’s apartment? That was likely. And made sense. He would pack a few things to come back here. No written note was scratched anywhere either, nothing to say, Hey, I hate her. I’m running away and hiding. She almost laughed at that because her sister had done that once too.
Whimsy headed back into the main room and warmed some water for tea. She didn’t know how long this would take. But, if the guys needed a hot drink when they returned, she wanted to be ready.
She also had no clue what to do about food. So far, that had been Samson’s domain. She understood. It was his kitchen after all.
She couldn’t help but pace. There was a definite chill in the air. She checked the fire, and there were still embers. She picked up some shavings and kindling and got it going again. With enough of a bed of red-hot embers, she put on a couple good logs, waited until they started to burn and then closed the damper and the front glass doors. She needed to keep everything ready and waiting for them.
That made her sound like the little wo
man sitting at home, waiting for the men to return. And, to a certain extent, maybe she was. Somehow they’d become her family. But she wasn’t sure she was their family. It was a fine distinction, but one she needed to remember.
Once again she stepped out on the front porch and searched the darkness. She felt an uneasy tension, almost an electric charge to the air. She hated to think about that damn platform out in the sound acting up again. And whose was it? Why was it here? The thought of that size of charge heading deep in the oceanbed …
She had no way to get internet with this storm activity. They’d probably be lucky if they retained power. Knowing the way Samson liked to keep things, he wouldn’t like her turning on the generator unless absolutely necessary.
With that thought in mind, she picked up more firewood and brought it back inside. The space where he kept it indoors was empty, so she made three more trips to fill it for the rest of the night. She studied the space and realized how much there was room for. There had to be hundreds of dollars worth of firewood here.
Did he chop it himself? It wasn’t something he would want to haul in. It would be difficult to get. But then there were lots of trees here. But were they the right kind for firewood? She didn’t know.
Recognizing that she was just passing the time, hoping the men got back soon, she walked outside, around the house a couple more times, pacing, checking in all directions to see if she saw any signs of them coming back. Finally she couldn’t handle it anymore. She walked back inside and waited.
Waiting was the worst. She didn’t know what she would do if something happened to them. She’d be able to get off the island by calling the helicopter pilot. She patted her pocket, reassured to feel his business card still there. If nothing else, Ned was supposed to be coming with foodstuffs.
She frowned at that. Was he coming today, or had that been postponed?
As she looked up, she thought she saw one of the men coming toward her. She went to the window and grinned. Until she didn’t recognize any of the clothing.
She frowned. She had no place to run. She could exit another door and disappear into the trees, but the stranger would obviously know somebody was here. Smoke curled out of the chimney. Smoke she had caused to be there. Samson had let it go out. Now she couldn’t stop worrying that maybe he had wanted it to die out.
She studied the stranger with a cynical eye. Was he the one she’d seen when she’d arrived at the island? She couldn’t tell. Not only had the man been walking through the trees, but she’d only caught a glimpse of him. Whereas this man wore a raincoat that shed water off his shoulders. Maybe he’d come from that damn platform down in the water. Because how else would anybody get onto this place? It wasn’t like she’d heard a helicopter come in, and a helicopter wasn’t likely to fly in this weather. That meant this guy had come from the ocean. Or he’d already been on this land for a while. Samson might know every corner of the island, but it was pretty easy for somebody to go without notice for a few days.
Deciding to brave a confrontation, she stepped out on the porch and called out to him. “What are you doing here?”
He looked up, his gaze hard. “I belong here,” he snapped. “What about you?”
Her jaw dropped. She hadn’t expected that answer. “I belong here, but I don’t know you. Where’s Samson?”
“No idea,” the man said curtly and brushed past her right into Samson’s house. He acted like he owned the place, and the trouble was, she didn’t know if he did or not. She’d only heard Samson specifically talk about his other brother and father coming to stay. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have other students or coworkers.
Frowning, she traipsed behind the man as he took off his jacket and hung it up, stepping toward the fire. She could see his obvious relief as the heat wafted toward him. He stood there for a few moments, drying off, warming up. She walked over to the lab, closed the door so he wouldn’t know what it was if he was truly a stranger. She walked back into the living room with a teacup. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
He glanced at her, and she was surprised to see gratitude in his gaze.
“I’d love a cup,” he said. “When did you see Samson last?”
“Must be about forty minutes ago,” she said, checking the clock on the wall. “I expected him back by now.”
“He never leaves,” the stranger said. “I was surprised to see a new student.”
“I’m not a student,” she said. “Dr. Whimsy Connor, at your service.” She went to the kitchen area, put a teabag in a teacup and poured hot water over it. Then she walked back to the living area and handed it to him. “We’re a little short on fixings.”
“Not to worry,” he said. “It’s to be expected, especially when the weather gets crappy like this. He probably hasn’t had a chance to get supplies, has he?”
Whimsy shook her head. “A boat was due in today, but I think it was postponed.”
“I hope so,” he exclaimed. He turned to look at her, this time a smile escaping. “My name is Bruce McAdams,” he said, reaching out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She shook his hand and stepped back, wondering at the name. Samson had said he was expecting a friend to come soon. Was this him? “How do you know Samson?”
“I’ve known him for years,” he said. “Normally we’re on similar projects or, in some cases, on opposite projects.” He chuckled at that.
She wasn’t sure she understood but didn’t want to question him too much in case something else was going on. She studied him. “Last I saw, he went in the direction you came in.”
“I didn’t see him,” Bruce said calmly. “I came in from the small island near here.”
He pointed in the direction where the platform was. Her stomach sank. “So do you have anything to do with that platform out there?”
“Hell no,” he said forcibly. “I wanted to ask Samson how long since he first saw it.”
She nodded, not understanding why. “He’s not happy it’s there.”
“Nobody is. It’s bizarre and too damn secretive for any of us to like. I gather Samson sounded the alarm and went to the cops? That’s like him. Me, I’d go after those who did it. I just checked out the platform. Nobody’s on it or around it. Which is too damn bad as I’d like to have a talk with whoever is behind that thing.”
“It’s obviously not running right now then,” she said in surprise, “or you wouldn’t have been that close to it.”
“Did you see it when it was working?”
She nodded. “Maybe. We saw something. It was like electricity flowing upward and outward. No way you could have been on the platform at that time.”
“But there’s got to be some electrical connection to it in order for it to do that.”
“Possibly,” she said. “I figured the owner started it up remotely, or it was on a timer.”
Bruce frowned at her and shrugged again. “Maybe. Have you been down on the platform?” he asked curiously.
“No,” she said, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I can’t say I want to either.”
He studied her, and then he gave a clipped nod. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
She waited for him to say something else, but, when he went silent, she decided to ask the important question. “So are you on Samson’s side? Or are you on the platform’s side?”
“You mean you can’t tell?” he asked in astonishment. “I rarely make a trip like this for friends.” He motioned out at the ugly weather. “Where the hell is he anyway?”
“Jamie went for a walk. Samson went after him,” Whimsy improvised.
Bruce rolled his eyebrows. “Jamie is back here again? That’s not a good idea.”
“Why is that?” she asked. “He seems to do much better here.”
“He’s a wild card,” Bruce said. “And he causes Samson a lot of extra work.”
“He’s family though.”
“That he is. Whether you like it or not, family is family.”
She understo
od the sentiment, but it was hardly fair. She glanced through the windows yet again. And then she saw him. “There’s Samson.” She bolted to the door and opened it. A gust of Mother Nature blew across the room, sending sparks everywhere. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called out, “Did you find him?”
Samson sent her a grim look. By the time he was close enough for her to hear, she understood there was no sign of Jamie. She wrapped her arms around Samson and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
He shot her a brief look. “Obviously we both are,” he said. “But you’re not to blame.”
“Yes, I am,” she said. “I made life too difficult for him.”
“That’s Jamie. He takes off at least once every time we’re here.” He stopped when he saw the newcomer in the doorway. He frowned, and then a grin broke out. “Bruce?”
“Yeah, that’s me. You call for help and look what happens,” he said, opening his arms wide. “I’m here. What the hell is that thing out there?”
“I wish I knew,” Samson said. “It’s doing all kinds of weird shit. I don’t know if it’s causing the weather or if it’s taking energy from the weather.”
Whimsy gasped. “I never considered that.”
Samson studied her face, then saw her mug of hot tea. He glanced at the teakettle. “Is that still hot?”
“It is. Not only is there hot tea, but the fire is going too,” she said. “Come on.”
He followed her in, taking off his jacket, giving it a good hard shake, and hung it up outside under the cover of the porch roof. The dogs were out wandering. They’d come in when they wanted to. They lived more outside than in. They were also big fans of Bruce’s visits. He normally brought them treats to make him popular. Samson stepped inside and smiled at Bruce. “How long you been here?”
“Long enough to have a cup of tea,” he said. “How serious do you think your missing brother is? Do we need to call the Coast Guard? Are you expecting him to have gone into the water?”
“If he’s in the water, he’s probably better off than we are,” Samson said. He reached for the cup of tea Whimsy had made for him. “I think he’s holed up, pouting somewhere.”