Waiting for the Storm (4 page)

Now I expected we could stay out half the night and Dad wouldn’t even notice or care. Great for Ella, but that just meant one more thing for me to worry about. Not that I could do anything to keep Ella from going out, but it wouldn’t stop me from worrying about her and wondering what kind of trouble she was getting into.

I went upstairs and turned my bedroom light on. Heaving my suitcase onto the bed, I began to unpack my things, hanging clothes in the closet or folding them neatly before tucking them in the dresser. I put my toiletries in the bathroom—
my
bathroom!—and went through the process of getting ready for bed, hoping I could trick my brain into getting tired and letting me sleep.

No such luck.

I set my laptop on the desk and contemplated booting it up, but decided against it. Instead, I pulled a book from my purse and took it to the window seat.

One good thing about being an insomniac was that I got a lot of reading done. Mom and I used to surf blogs from my laptop on days she was in bed, and once she discovered book blogs, she suggested I start one so I could talk about all the novels I read. I’d never gotten around to it, but I decided it could be a good project for this summer—a hobby to keep me busy, and a way to meet people with similar interests. If I couldn’t have real life friends, I could at least have online ones.

The next few hours flew by as I immersed myself in someone else’s world. Reading was pretty much the only time my brain wasn’t working overtime.

I was surprised when I glanced out the window and saw pale light on the horizon. After spending every night awake for the last several months, I knew it must be about 5:30 a.m.

Watching the sunrise on my first morning here seemed like a good idea, so I crept from my room and into the hallway. I was relieved to see Ella’s bedroom door closed; I just hoped she was in there alone. Dad was gone from the living room, so he must have made his way to his own room at some point during the night.

When I reached the beach, instead of sitting behind the mound of sand, I perched on top of it, pulling my knees up to my chest and staring out at the horizon. It occurred to me that I’d seen more sunrises than sunsets over the last few months. I bet that wasn’t common for most seventeen-year-olds.

Until now I’d assumed that a sunrise was a sunrise, and they’d look the same no matter where you were. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The sunrises at home were beautiful, but they were nothing compared to watching that giant ball of fire rise over the shining waters of Lake Ontario. The sky turned from a peachy-orange to a pale pink before morphing into shades of purple and red.

It was incredible. And it made me kind of sad that I had no one to share it with.

Shrugging off the feeling, I kept my eyes trained on the sky so I wouldn’t miss a second of the changing colours. I was vaguely aware of a car door closing nearby, but I figured someone was heading to work early.

The sound of heavy footfalls made me jump up and whirl around. A young guy was walking up the path between my house and the house to the right. He had his head down, but from what I could see of his face I guessed he was in his early twenties. I wondered if he was the one who’d left late last night, and if he was just getting back now, all these hours later.

As if sensing me there, he glanced up. When our eyes met, he froze on the path. His reaction was almost comical, like something from a cartoon. I imagined a screeching brake sound effect.

We stood and stared at each other. His dark hair was just a bit too long, falling over his forehead and the tops of his ears. A hint of a five o’clock shadow darkened his tanned face, and his blue-green eyes shone in the soft morning light.

His expression was unreadable as he tilted his head slightly to the side, still examining me. Slowly his expression changed, turning into something akin to interest. Curiosity maybe? I wasn’t sure, but it was kind of unsettling. I felt like I should say something, even just call out a hello, but I was frozen under his scrutiny.

I was also suddenly very aware of the fact I was wearing pajamas—a matching tank top and shorts covered in colourful owls. I hadn’t expected to see anyone before six in the morning.

Finally he lifted a hand in a small wave, and unlike last night, I automatically waved back. A small smile touched his lips as he dropped his hand, and I realized my initial guess had been wrong—he was more likely around my age than in his twenties. He gave me a little nod before bowing his head again and continuing into his house.

I watched the door for a few minutes, wondering if he would come back out. When he didn’t, I sat back down on the sand hill.

Heaven help him when Ella got a look at him. Tall, dark, and handsome seemed to be her type—or one of them anyway.

I snuck one more glance over my shoulder in the direction of his house. I pictured his face, and that look of curious interest as he’d studied me. Had my expression mirrored his?

The sky was almost completely light now, and seagulls were starting to circle over the water in search of breakfast. I yawned and stretched, feeling oddly tired considering I’d only been up for about seven hours. Maybe my lack of sleep was finally catching up to me.

Back in my room, I pulled the curtains, even though I knew they wouldn’t do much to keep the sunlight out. It didn’t really matter anyway—whether the room was pitch dark or flooded with light, when my body was ready to sleep, I could sleep through just about anything.

I pulled back the covers and crawled into bed. There was a ceiling fan above me, and a nice breeze coming in the open window. I watched the curtains as they danced hypnotically in the light wind, and my eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they slid closed and I fell asleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

Something was beeping. Was Mom heating lunch in the microwave? It was usually just the two of us for lunch since Ella was at school and Dad was at work. If she had the strength she’d sneak into the kitchen while I was asleep and heat up leftovers for lunch so it was ready when I got up. She said it wasn’t right that I took care of her all the time, and the least she could do was nuke lunch.

I awoke with a smile on my face. When my eyes opened and I realized where I was, fresh grief hit me like a tidal wave, and I gasped in a breath, clutching at my tight chest. I wasn’t at home in my bed, and Mom wasn’t downstairs in the kitchen. Mom wasn’t anywhere. She was gone.

This wasn’t the first time I’d woken up and forgotten Mom was gone; each time it was like losing her all over again. How long would this keep happening? How long would I have to go through the pain of losing her?

The beeping that had woken me sounded again and I glanced over at the bedside table. My cell phone was flashing a low battery warning and beeping every few seconds. I grabbed for it and shut the power off, making a mental note to charge it later. I hardly ever used it—I had no one to call or text—but I kept it anyway, telling myself I might need it in an emergency.

I flopped back down on the pillows and covered my eyes with my hands. Before I’d shut the phone off I noticed it was just after noon. I’d been sleeping for about six hours, and that would have to be good enough. I couldn’t go back to sleep and risk waking up and having to be reminded yet again that Mom wasn’t here.

I rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. A quick shower made me feel slightly more human, and gave me a chance to add to the mental list I’d started earlier:
call handyman to start work on the front porch, and find a way to the grocery store to stock up on food so we don’t all starve to death.

Once I was dressed, I went downstairs. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, fully dressed, shaved, hair brushed, and laptop open.

I was so stunned, I blurted, “You’re working,” by way of greeting.

Dad glanced up and smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sort of,” he replied, shuffling some papers beside the laptop. “Trying to, anyway. Don’t know if I’ll get very far.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
At least you’re trying?
Or perhaps
I’m proud of you?
Neither of them sounded right. “Good for you,” I finally said, crossing the room and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’m going to call the handyman to get started on the porch, okay? Do you have the number?”

Dad hunched over his laptop and squinted at the screen. “I called him,” he said absently, waving a hand toward the front of the house. “He’s out there already.”

The shocks just kept coming. When I opened the fridge door and saw a carton of milk, some fresh fruit, and a package of deli meat had been added alongside the box of pizza from last night, I almost fell over. “You went shopping?”

“Just made a quick run first thing this morning when I realized there was nothing for breakfast.” Dad glanced at me quickly before returning his gaze to the computer screen. I could have sworn he looked guilty. “Got a few things, but we’ll need to go back later and really stock up.”

“Sure,” I said casually, pulling an apple from the fridge and taking it to the sink to rinse. “I can probably manage that.”

“That’d be great,” he said distractedly, tapping away at the keyboard.

I nodded even though he wasn’t looking. “Well then…I’ll just let you…” I trailed off; he wasn’t paying attention anymore. I figured I was lucky to get as much out of him as I did.

I followed the faint sound of hammering toward the front of the house. I stood at the open door and looked through the screen. A guy in long khaki shorts, a white undershirt, and heavy work boots crouched on the porch near the steps, pulling up boards and throwing them onto the lawn with a loud clatter. Not wanting to disturb him, I turned to go back upstairs, but my foot caught on the mat inside the door and I stumbled, dropping my apple with a loud
thunk
.

The guy outside turned, and I caught a glimpse of his face under his low baseball cap. It was the boy from last night and earlier this morning—my neighbour. He tilted his head to the side as he had before and looked at me expectantly, so I opened the screen door and stepped outside.

“Hey,” I said, giving him a lame little wave. “I’m Charlotte.”

“Ezra.” He rose from his crouched position and pulled one glove off, wiping his hand on his shorts before holding it out to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

His hand was warm and rough, and so big it enveloped mine. “You too.” Was it just my imagination or was this exchange seriously awkward?

He released my hand and we stood and stared at each other. Yes, this was definitely awkward. I’d never had trouble talking to guys before, but for some reason Ezra left me speechless.

“I’m basically going to have to redo the entire porch,” he said, filling the silence. “I’m surprised it’s lasted this long without collapsing. Whoever built it didn’t use the proper wood and now it’s rotting from water damage.”

“Sounds expensive,” I commented, unsure what else to say.

“It won’t be cheap,” he agreed. “But your dad…that is your dad, right?” He pointed toward the house, and I nodded. “He said to do whatever needed to be done and that cost wasn’t a problem.”

I nodded again. I wasn’t sure how much money Mom had set aside for repairs on this old place, but I was sure it was substantial. She’d loved it so much, she said fixing it up was her way of giving back for all the summers she’d spent here and the wonderful memories she’d made.

“I’ll do a good job,” Ezra said, almost defensively. “It’ll last a hell of a lot longer than this did.”

“I didn’t mean to imply…” I sighed. This was why I didn’t talk to people anymore.

He shook his head. “Sorry. Let’s rewind on that. I’m Ezra Rhodes, I live next door, and I promise I’m not really a jerk.” He gave me a little grin that had my lips tugging upward in response.

“Charlotte O’Dell, new occupant of 20 Greenwood Lane. And I didn’t think you were a jerk.”

His smile widened slightly, and he turned back to his work, raising his voice so I could hear him. “You’ll want to use the back door for awhile, at least until I get the porch down completely and set up temporary steps for you.”

“Sure, okay…thanks.” I watched him work, his arm and back muscles rippling as he loosened boards and pulled them up before tossing them onto the grass. A slight breeze wafted across the porch and brought the scent of sunscreen with it. Even though it was early summer, Ezra was already quite tanned. He must have forgotten to apply lotion to the back of his neck, because it was already starting to turn red.

I’m not sure how long I stood watching him, but he must have sensed my eyes on him, because he turned and met my gaze.

“Sorry. I’m just gonna go inside.” I pointed behind me unnecessarily. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later,” he called as I stepped quickly through the door.

It was cool and dark in here compared to outside, and I stood in the front hallway waiting for my eyes to adjust. Upon returning to the kitchen, I discovered Dad was gone, although his laptop and papers were still on the kitchen table.

I glanced at the screen and saw the website for the University of Toronto, where Dad was a professor. He’d finished classes several weeks ago, but always spent a good chunk of the summer writing papers for various journals and doing research for projects and curriculum.

Over the last few months as Mom’s condition worsened, Dad had seemed to embody the spirit of the absentminded professor. His boss told him to take as much time off as he needed, but Dad seemed to prefer to carry on with work.

I couldn’t blame him really. I wished I had something to focus my attention on.

I pulled open the fridge and examined the contents again. I made myself a turkey sandwich and took it upstairs where I booted up my laptop and started to search for book blogs. Within minutes I was immersed, reading reviews and recommendations, and discovering people who loved to read as much as I did.

All the time I was surfing the net, I could hear faint sounds of Ezra working outside. It was so still out that the banging from his hammer seemed to bounce and echo off the surrounding trees and houses. When the noise stopped and the silence stretched past a few minutes, I wondered if he was done for the day.

I glanced at the clock and was surprised to find it was after four. It felt like my days were filled with oddly broken-up chunks of time—sleeping, awake, sleeping, awake. Even though that had been the case through most of Mom’s illness, I’d had a purpose then so it didn’t seem so strange. I kept her company, made sure she took her meds, cooked and cleaned, and worked on my courses for school.

Now I was on edge, unable to shake the sense I was waiting for something. But what? A purpose? Something—or perhaps some
one
—to help me take my mind off things?

I set my computer on sleep mode and made my way back downstairs. Dad’s things were gone from the kitchen table and he was stretched out on the couch, watching TV. I had a feeling he’d end up spending a lot of time on that couch this summer.

My attention was drawn to the front of the house when I heard a rattling sound. I opened the door, remembering what Ezra said about not using the front porch until he had it fixed. His tools were still spread out on what was left of the porch, but he was nowhere in sight.

Curiosity had me making my way back through the house and out the sliding glass doors onto the back porch. A group of girls sat on the beach several houses down, and I strained to see if Ella was with them, but she didn’t appear to be.

I descended the stairs and stood in the sand, wiggling my bare toes. Another sound drew my attention to the side of the house, where I found Ezra sitting in a big wooden swing facing his house. His head was tilted back as he drained a reusable water bottle, and sweat glistened on his sun-kissed skin.

I decided to slip back to the house before he saw me and thought I was some creepy peeper.

“Weird place for a swing, huh?” he called.

I froze mid-turn. He was still looking in the direction of his house, but after a second he angled toward me and met my gaze.

“I heard your grandfather had it built when your family spent summers here back in the seventies. Your mom, my mom, and Lilah were best friends.” His gaze was so intense it made my skin feel hot and tingly. “I’m really sorry about your mom,” he added quietly.

I wondered how he could sound so sincere when talking to a stranger about another stranger. The way he said it made it seem like he’d known her—like he knew
me
—and was truly sorry she was gone. “Thank you,” I murmured.

He nodded and turned his attention back to his house. “Anyway,” he said, “I guess they were always together during those summers, the three of them. They practically lived at each other’s houses, so it didn’t seem strange to build the swing here.”

I would have thought it was odd that he was telling me all this except it felt like we shared a connection because our mothers used to be best friends once upon a time. At this point, I’d hold on tight to any sort of connection to my mom, and I got the sense Ezra understood that.

“Most of the people who rented the place other years didn’t bother with it,” he continued. “It was half hidden by tall grass, and covered in creeping vines.” His eyes met mine again. “I cleaned it up when Lilah told me you were coming.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You…”

“Yeah.” He almost looked embarrassed. “I figured you might like it. Even though it’s in a weird spot, it’s quiet and private. Good for…you know, quiet, private things.”

My eyebrows inched up further, and he laughed, shaking his head before dropping it into his hands. “And I just realized how that sounded. I’m not hitting on you.”

“Of course not,” I said lightly.

He tilted his head to look at me. “Maybe we should do the rewind again.”

“Is there a rule for how many times you can start over and introduce yourself?” I asked.

“We could find out.” He patted the seat beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, I joined him. As soon as I sat down, he kicked the ground and set the swing rocking gently.

We sat in silence, and I closed my eyes, listening to the waves lapping on the sand, and the creak and whine from the old swing. “Thank you.” I opened my eyes to look at him. “For cleaning up the swing.” I was going to say it would have made my mom happy, but I was afraid that would sound ridiculous. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was no problem,” he assured me with a small smile. Now that I was closer to him, I got a good look at his eyes and realized they were more green than blue. I’d never seen eyes that colour before; they were almost hypnotic, the way they changed.

“So…” I said, grasping for a topic. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem kind of young to be doing this sort of work.” I motioned toward the front of the house.

“Eighteen last winter.” He hooked one leg over the other knee and leaned back, still rocking the swing. “Last summer I went to work for the island’s only construction company, kind of as an apprentice. I couldn’t afford to go to school, but I needed training to do something, you know? The owner was friends with my dad, so he gave me a break and took me on, taught me, paid me.”

He shrugged. “I’m kind of known as the jack of all trades on the island. People need something done, they call me. They know I do good work so they hire me when they can.” He didn’t say it in an arrogant way, just matter of fact, like he was confident in his abilities.

“That’s great.”

“It pays the bills anyway. I’d like to go to school eventually once I’ve saved enough. Are you going to school in the fall?”

“Umm, no,” I said, fidgeting on the swing. “I did home schooling for senior year while my mom was sick so I could be with her. I kinda missed the deadline for applications.”

He nodded as if that made perfect sense. “It’s all about juggling priorities, right?” His eyes shifted out of focus slightly, appearing distant before refocusing on my face. “You have time to figure things out.”