In the Middle of Nowhere Page 4

  My mother gave me veggies, too.

  “Plus, I could never repay you for letting us move in and live here rent free.”

  My mother put her hand to her chest and got choked up. “I really don’t know what I would have done without you, brother.”

  My uncle patted the top of her hand. “Don’t worry, Laura. I did it because I can.”

  Uncle Ron got all excited and animated. “Plus, for some time now, I’ve had my eye on a bigger house here on the island, over on Peck Road. I always wanted an excuse to buy it, and now I have one!”

  My mom smiled lovingly at her only sibling.

  Uncle Ron spoke softly. “Consider this place all yours, sis.”

  My mother was so moved by his gesture. She tried to hold back her tears, but could not.

  My grandfather, who seemed to be getting more and more senile lately, yelled, “What’s all the blubbering about, Laura? Is it because the food tastes so horrible?”

  My grandmother rolled her eyes and gently elbowed him in the side. “Quiet, Shamus! The food is delightful.”

  My mother looked at each one of us as we feasted on her hard work. She frowned. “Is it that bad?”

  “Not at all,” James answered as he plopped another heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

  “It’s delicious, Mom,” I swore and even took another bite of my stuffing.

  “I’ve got some bad news for you, sister,” my Uncle Ron said in his most serious tone. “If you cook like this all the time, I’m gonna have to steal you from Willow and James so you can run one of my kitchens in New York.”

  As my mom smiled with appreciation and dried her eyes, the doorbell rang. We all turned toward the family room. My mother, who was already standing, put down the carving knife and fork. “I’ll get it,” she said and left the room.

  My grandfather continued ranting about how salty the food was and my grandmother kept trying to quiet him, while James, my uncle and I ate as though it was our last meal.

  My mother came back into the kitchen and cleared her throat. We all looked at her. She addressed me.

  “Willow, you have a visitor.”

  “I do?”

  She nodded.

  “Who is it?”

  She gestured toward the family room. “Go and see.”

  The others stared at me. I shrugged, got up from the table and threw my napkin onto my chair. “Be right back.”

  Who the heck would stop by and visit today, of all days, I wondered as I stepped into the family room? I stood and looked around. No one was in there. I saw a blurred movement coming from beyond the icy, frosted panes of the front door. Cautiously, I walked toward it.

  Slowly I turned the cold, metal doorknob, faced the unexpected visitor and gasped.

  “Happy Thanksgiving!” Michael beamed.

  • • •

  Never in my life had I seen anyone shiver as much as Michael. I pulled him into the family room and led him toward the hot, crackling fire. I was filled with questions, but wanted him to defrost first.

  Michael looked terrible. He was paler than ever and his lips were a light shade of blue. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying.

  “What are you doing here and how did you find my house?” I whispered, thankful that none of my family members came to investigate, especially my nosy brother.

  Michael rubbed his hands together and blew on them. “I grew up on the island. I knew exactly where this place was when we first talked.”

  “But why did you come … and on Thanksgiving?”

  Michael looked down as he answered. “I just needed to get away from home for a while.”

  He looked at me and forced a grin. “You know how annoying families can get, especially around the holidays.”

  I was flabbergasted. “But it’s snowing and freezing out there,” I said as I pointed toward the front window. “How did you even get here?”

  “I took a cab from my house to the Portland pier and walked to your house when I got to the island.”

  “Do your parents know where you are?”

  Again he looked down. “No. And I really don’t care.”

  I grabbed his frozen hand and spoke sternly. “Michael, you need to call them.”

  “No. I don’t.” He yanked his hand away and glared at me. “I knew coming here was a mistake.”

  I was speechless, at first, and then became angry. “A mistake? What am I supposed to think? You show up unexpectedly on my doorstep during a storm, frozen to the bone in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner?”

  Michael turned away from me, toward the fire, but I wasn’t done.

  “And you promised you’d be in school last week and, not only did you not show up, you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me.”

  Michael still wouldn’t look at me. I continued anyway and tried to keep my voice down.

  “What is going on with you? Sometimes you’re around; sometimes you’re not. I think you’re really sick with something, but you won’t talk about it.”

  Exasperated, I threw my hands up. “What do you want from me, Michael?”

  Michael glowered at me and pierced me with his dark, brooding eyes. He spoke through clenched teeth and his voice was deeper than ever. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Without another word, he turned and marched toward the front door.

  “Michael!” I called after him. “Wait! Come back!”

  Michael stormed out and slammed the door shut, but somehow, it blew back open, as a gust of frigid wind entered the room, found me, clung to me and wouldn’t let me go.

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  Just when I thought it was not possible that the temperature in Maine get any colder, I’d find myself shivering uncontrollably and my teeth actually chattering whenever I was outside for more than a minute. I experienced my fair share of harsh winters growing up in Massachusetts, but so far, nothing compared to my new habitat, the exposed and vulnerable Pike’s Island.

  Regardless, I tried to keep myself as warm as possible as I kept up with my grueling workload and my grades, even studying or doing my homework on the chilly ferryboat back and forth to the island.

  While on my way back to the island one below-zero-wind-chilled-afternoon, I readjusted my scarf and wrapped it tightly around my neck. I sat there and tried to memorize present tense conjugations for my Spanish quiz the next day, but couldn’t. I found myself thinking about Michael and about the last time I saw him.

  After Michael had stormed off on Thanksgiving, I quietly closed the front door and locked it securely behind me. I didn’t know what else to do. For a brief moment I contemplated running after him, but I had no idea where he went. He knew the island better than I did and when I tried to call him on his cell phone, it went straight to voice mail.

  Michael never did show up to school the week after that and wouldn’t return any of my calls, texts or e-mails. I thought about trying to catch a ride over to his house one day after school, but I didn’t have his address in Portland and didn’t want to ask any of the other students if they knew where he lived.

  Michael’s MyWeb account had no recent posts except for an updated quote underneath his profile picture. It read: “Be not fearful of death, for death is not fearful of you.”

  His new quote was rather ominous and concerned me. Why was he talking about death? Was he really that ill? I wouldn’t doubt he became sick with something, especially after walking through a snowstorm to get to my house on Thanksgiving. I didn’t want him to leave that night, but I also didn’t think it was okay for him to let his parents worry about him. All he had to do was call them and tell them that he was safe.

  From our past phone conversations, he had told me that he and his dad really didn’t get along, but that he adored his mother. I figured he must have had an argument with his dad that day, which probably prompted him to come and see me. But he wouldn’t tell me what happened that night or ever for that matter. That was the problem; Michael was way too secretive.
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br />   Sometimes he was forthcoming about things in his life like his interpretation of the lyrics to his favorite song or his passion for poetry and writing, but would never talk about why he missed so much school or what made him so ill.

  Either way, he still wasn’t back in school and we had only one week left until Winter Vacation. I closed my spiral notebook, put on my hood and rested my head back on the windowsill. The soft swaying of the ferry lulled me and let my mind wander. I always seemed to be tired lately. I figured the constantly cold temperature and lack of sun gave me less energy during the winter months. Maybe that’s the reason polar bears hibernated. It made perfect sense. Humans should, too. I knew I wanted to anyway.

  I dozed off and started dreaming about a warm and cozy snow cave where a fluffy, down sleeping bag and roaring fire awaited me when, suddenly, I was nudged awake.

  I quickly sat up and searched for the source of my interruption. Tessa Anderson sat beside me, with a grin from ear to ear.

  “What’s up, loser?” she asked.

  I laid my head back down and closed my eyes. I was annoyed. “I was trying to sleep.”

  She nudged me again. “Well, wake up, Willow! We’re home.”

  • • •

  Up until that day, I didn’t even realize that Tessa Anderson lived on the island. Never once had I seen her on the ferry to or from Portland since we had started school back in September.

  Normally I would hang out with Erica and Taylor on the morning ride in, but rarely caught up with either of them after school because one or all of us stayed after for different reasons whether it was for sports, clubs or even extra help.

  After the boat docked, I walked off slowly, barely awake. My mom was working at my brother’s school, so I braced myself for a frosty, torturous walk home. I zipped up my North Face as high as it would go and trudged through the semi-plowed streets. I was halfway home when a shiny, blue Ford pickup truck pulled up next to me.

  A man rolled down his window and motioned for me to walk toward him. “Hey, come here.”

  I looked around. No one else was in sight. I was scared and picked up my pace.

  He sped up and called to me. “Wanna ride, Willow?”

  I ignored him and walked even faster, completely freaked out that he knew my name. I was just about to start running when I heard a high-pitched laughing coming from inside the cab.

  I looked over and saw Tessa pop up from underneath the dashboard. She was hysterical.

  “Willow, calm down! It’s just me and my brother, Jaques.”

  I thought I was going to have a heart attack or get abducted at the very least, while Tessa and her brother cackled at my expense.

  I was pissed. “Very funny, guys,” I said sarcastically.

  Tessa tried to stifle her laughter and yelled through the window. “Sorry.”

  The truck screeched to a halt and Tessa flung her door open. “Hop in.”

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  Most of the businesses on Pike’s were situated on the western and southernmost side of the island so boats from the mainland could easily travel in and out of the harbor. It was also where the Casco Bay ferryboats docked and the part of the island where most year-round residents lived.

  Our house was less than a quarter mile inland from the western shore. After I hopped into Jaques’s truck, I realized rather quickly that they didn’t live anywhere near me. We headed east and ended up on Shoreline Drive, the one road that brought travelers around the whole perimeter of the island. My house, and the other small houses like it, occupied one side of the island while Tessa’s was on the less populated, wealthier side, which allowed realtors to boast them as “beachfront properties.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay with your parents if I come over?”

  Tessa and Jaques exchanged glances and grins. Tessa turned to me. “Trust me. They don’t care. They’re never home anyway.”

  I stared out the window and watched the waves crash upon the shore. Some of the magnificent houses sat across the street from the beach, separated by Shoreline Drive, while others were directly on the waterfront, perched atop huge parcels of land right before their yards became rocky and jagged, dropping off toward the ocean below. I had never been this far out on the island and had planned on doing more investigating once it got warmer and I got my driver’s permit.

  “So what grade are you in? Willow, right?” Jaques leaned forward and asked.

  “Yeah, that’s my name. I know it’s kinda weird. I’m a sophomore like Tessa.”

  “It’s not weird at all. It’s different. In a good way,” Jaques smiled at me. I smiled back.

  “Talk about weird.” Jaques said. “How about my name? It’s pronounced Jakes, but it’s spelled j, a, q, u, e, s.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes and turned to me. “That’s because Jaques is our mom’s maiden name and that’s what her blue-blooded side of the family does. The first-born son, the golden child, is always honored with getting some crappy last name as his first.”

  Tessa playfully elbowed her brother. “Isn’t that right, Jaques?

  “Very funny, Tess. You’re just jealous,” he said and gave his sister a wink. They both laughed.

  Tessa’s brother seemed nice. He seemed older than her; maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, I’d guess. I studied his profile. He and Tessa looked a lot alike; blonde hair, blue eyes and had very defined facial features like high cheekbones and square jaw lines. But Tessa had a softness about her that made her look totally feminine, while Jaques was definitely all man.

  As we drove northeast, I couldn’t help but wonder how in the world I ended up in a pickup truck with Tessa Anderson and her brother heading toward their family home. The only reason I accepted her invitation was because I was totally freezing and figured it couldn’t hurt to go for a little while. I’d be home alone anyway until my mom and brother got back from school.

  Plus, more importantly, Tessa and I weren’t friends or even remotely close. Even though we exchanged a few words in the past, I thought she was stuck up and way too cool for me. When I really thought about it, though, I couldn’t think of any girls in school whom she was friendly with. She always seemed to be hanging out with the guys. Still, I wanted to know why she invited me over.

  “What are we gonna do at your house?”

  “Hang.”

  Hang? I wished I could have texted Erica or Taylor right then to give them the low down or at least to ask them their interpretation of the word “hang.” They’d never believe I was with Tessa. Ever! All they did was talk about her during lunch and study hall and say how slutty she was and preached that “you should never have sex with a guy just to keep him as a boyfriend, even if it was with Connor Finch” and blah, blah, blah. They’d just go on and on about her.

  “So, where’re you from?” Tessa wanted to know.

  I turned toward her. “Massachusetts.”

  “How’d you end up in this shitty place?”

  Tessa had a real way with words. I stared out the window again. “My dad died when I was young and when my mom lost her job, we couldn’t afford to stay in our home anymore. So my mom, brother and I moved into my uncle’s house over on Juniper Drive.”

  “That sucks.”

  That was rude, I thought, and a typical Tessa response. I just shook my head. She must have realized how she sounded and tried to backpedal.

  “I don’t mean it sucks that you live at your uncle’s. I mean it sucks that your father died.”

  I was thoughtful for a moment, looked Tessa in her steel blue eyes and nodded softly. “Yes. It does.”

  • • •

  Jaques’s truck pulled up a long, winding driveway, lined with ancient oaks and soaring blue spruces. The drive led to an enormous house that wasn’t visible from the road. I couldn’t imagine how it remained so private considering its massive size. The three-story house was covered in dark gray cedar shakes with shiny black trim. The detached, four-car garage had thick, ivy vines crawling u
p its stone side and seemed as though they had been trained to grow perfectly around its Gothic-shaped windows. The place reminded me of a grand Georgian estate that could be found nestled somewhere in the lush, English countryside.

  Tessa’s house had to be at least fifty times the size of my uncle’s. I couldn’t believe that such extreme types of dwellings existed on Pike’s Island and felt as though I was completely in another world.

  Jaques stopped the truck in front of the arched, front entrance, which was mortared with stones similar to those that adorned the outside of the garage. The heavy, double wooden front doors were stained a deep, red mahogany and looked as if it would take an army of people just to hold them open.

  I climbed out of the truck and Tessa hopped out after me. The three of us walked toward the front doors where Jaques, like a true gentleman, held them open for us.

  The foyer was beautiful with twenty-foot ceilings and gray and white marble floors. A spiral staircase, with a black, wrought iron banister stood to the right of us. I glanced up and saw a huge, ornate crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of the entrance, which, otherwise, was completely empty. A chilly breeze passed through me as we stood inside the big foyer. I shivered and crossed my arms in front of myself to keep warm.

  Jaques and Tessa walked toward the back of the house and I followed. We walked through a long hallway and ended up in a family room and kitchen area. Like the rest of the house, the two rooms were huge. Tall windows, which stretched from the floor to the ceiling, covered the entire back wall and made the whole space feel fully exposed to the elements.

  Tessa walked left into the kitchen and opened the stainless steel refrigerator.

  “Wanna drink or something?”

  “No thanks. I’m good,” I said as I walked over to the windows and stared outside in awe.

  The backyard, which wasn’t very big, had what appeared to be an infinity pool and then beyond that a subtle drop with the sandy beach and white-capped waves below. The view was absolutely breathtaking, even in the middle of winter.