Step Into the Wind

by Bev Prescott

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  About the Author

  Make sure to check out these other exciting Blue Feather Books titles:

  For K.C., you make my life beautiful; and for all of Mother Nature’s wild ones who show us how to live life to its fullest.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, locales and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Step Into the Wind

  Copyright © 2013 by Bev Prescott

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, save for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

  Cover design by Ann Phillips

  A Blue Feather Book

  Published by Blue Feather Books, Ltd.

  www.bluefeatherbooks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-935627-75-3

  First edition: February, 2013

  Printed in the United States of America and in the United Kingdom.

  Acknowledgements

  Life is bittersweet. How could it not be when its bookends are birth and death? People and animals come into our lives giving us sheer joy and then heartbreak when they go. Sometimes their passing leaves us so broken that we have to be strong enough to ask for help. Thank you, Laura, for helping me find the way through my darkness.

  In the early hours of morning I spend a lot of time watching and listening to the wild ones who inhabit our meadow. Thank you for teaching me so much about living. Life is a gift to be cherished every second that we are able to hold onto it. To the eagles on our island, you especially, inspire me. I’m grateful to share this little piece of the planet with you.

  To Emily Reed and Blue Feather Books, thank you for giving me a home to tell my stories. Thanks so much to my editors, Nann Dunne and Nene Adams. Your candor and patience helped make Step Into the Wind a better story, and me a better author. It was a privilege to work with you.

  Finally, to my beloved, K.C., you gave me the world when you gave me your heart. Thank you for your unconditional love. I’ll love you forever.

  Chapter 1

  Alex Marcotte ran. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder.

  Tentacles of anxiety whipped across the back of her neck and grasped her throat, choking off her air. She tried to swallow but couldn’t. She ran harder to get away. Her gaze darted around. She had nowhere to hide; it was the place that provoked her anxiety. Her clamoring heart rattled her insides. Despite the heat generated by her body’s exertion, goose bumps broke out over her skin.

  A voice barely registered above the chatter in her head. “Geez,” Claire Durand said, “if I’d known we were going to sprint the whole way, I would’ve told you to run alone this morning.”

  Alex slowed and stopped to let Claire catch up. Up until this morning, she hadn’t seen her childhood friend in nearly five years.

  She tried to take a different view of the scenery around her. Glasgow, Maine, on the shores of Sebago Lake couldn’t be a lovelier place to look at. Yet it terrified her to be back in the town where her childhood had been broken. “Sorry. I got lost in my thoughts.”

  “Really?” Claire was panting. “My guess is… you still run to escape… rather than to arrive… like most people.” She put her hands on her hips and bent over to catch her breath. “You run faster than anyone I know.” She gave a short laugh. “It almost killed me trying to keep up with you.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you want to walk instead for a while?” A strand of Alex’s long black hair had come loose from her ponytail. She tucked it behind her ear.

  Claire straightened. “If you don’t mind.”

  “No.” Alex took a step forward but let Claire set the pace. Her legs ached to go fast again.

  “I’m glad you’re home for the entire summer.” Claire untied the long-sleeved T-shirt wrapped around her waist. “There’s so much for us to catch up on. It’s really good to see you again.” She slipped the T-shirt over her head.

  Alex’s stomach knotted at the thought of the word home. She inhaled more oxygen than necessary to fuel her body. The lungful of air was meant for her mind. She focused on the morning calm that lay over the eleven-mile expanse of Sebago Lake. She and Claire walked along the winding dirt road that paralleled the waterfront cottages dotting its sloping shoreline.

  A curtain of fog hung low over the massive stretch of the lake, shrouding it in a cloudy mist. From her vantage point above, Alex could make out the lake’s islands because of their tall pines. The very tops of the needle-covered branches poked above the gray curtain.

  “I’m not sure I can stay that long.” Alex breathed in the moist, fragrant air laced with lilac, cedar, and pine. The melancholy cry of a loon in the distance pierced her heart and made her hurt for all she had loved and lost in Maine.

  “You teach at the School of History at that university in southern California, right? I thought they gave you the entire summer off to finish that book you’re writing. Your dad said something about wildfires?”

  “Yes, the Maine wildfires of 1947. I’m really excited about it. Devastating wildfires are commonplace out west. There’s a lot of history surrounding them, but not so much on the East Coast. A fire that burned entire towns and thousands of acres across Maine isn’t something most people know much about. When my history students hear the words ‘forest fire,’ they always think of areas out west. The dean of the school believes my book will be an important addition to the history of wildfires across the country. I’m hoping it will get me tenure.”

  “Hmm.” Claire slipped her hands into the pockets of her running shorts. “If you get tenure, you definitely won’t be moving back to the East Coast. Now I really hope you’ll stay the whole summer.”

  Unease filled Alex. She might as well get the truth out there. Claire would probe until she revealed everything anyway. “I won’t need the whole summer to finish my research. You know the length of time I stay has nothing to do with the book.”

  The proverbial elephant stomped into the silence of Claire’s pause. “Have you seen your father yet?”

  “No, I got in late last night and slipped out this morning before there was a chance I’d run into him.”

  “You’re staying in the main house. You know you’re not going to be able to avoid him.”

  “I’m not trying to. I wanted to run first so I could get hold of myself before I see him.”

  “It’s not going to be as bad as you think,” Claire said. “Even though you haven’t seen him in years, he always tells me whenever he gets a call or e-mail from you and his mood is happier on those days. He was really glad when he found out you were coming home.”

  “It would be nice if he told me that himself. I get a very different impression from him. My father mastered the art of passive aggressiveness a long time ago. I
doubt I’ll get any different treatment from him now.”

  “He doesn’t know how to deal with you, especially because of how you still feel about your mother. He’s been praying you’ll go see her while you’re here. I’m sure he’s already told you her doctor said she probably won’t live through the summer.”

  Alex glanced at her watch. “Seven hours and thirty-three minutes.”

  “What?” Claire asked.

  “That’s how long it took since I’ve been home before someone asked if I was going to see my mother.”

  “It is a main reason you came, isn’t it?”

  “No. I told you, I’m here to do the last of the research to finish my book. And my father insisted that he needed help with the camp because my mother’s sick.”

  “Come on, isn’t there some part of you that came home to see her one last time? Besides, he’s been asking for your help for years during the summers, but we haven’t seen hide nor hair of you until now.”

  Time’s passage had created a chasm between her and Claire, Alex thought. The twelve-year-old girl she used to tell every secret to was now a woman who knew nothing about her, yet everything. At the bottom of the chasm lay the remains of what had happened to both of them the night her twin brother, Jake, died. Even if she had an answer to Claire’s question, she wouldn’t share it.

  “I’m not ready to see my mother yet,” she said. “As for my father, I came home this time because he sounded desperate.”

  “For what it’s worth,” Claire said, “he’s been desperate since the day you left. Now he’s struggling with the fact that your mom isn’t going to be around much longer. It would mean the world to him if you finally reconciled with her.”

  Alex let the comment roll off of her back. Claire meant well. Over the years, the woman had become more of a daughter to her parents than she herself had been. Claire loved and cared about them, while Alex had grown cold toward her parents. Still, guilt for feeling that way crowded out her desire to tell Claire that she was tired of her parents’ broken hearts mattering more than hers. There was no point in wallowing in that can of worms with Claire anyway. Claire never did see how her parents had contributed to what happened the night Jake died.

  “Let’s see how things go,” Alex said. “For now, I need to help my father and make sure I don’t come apart at the seams again while I’m at it.”

  “I thought you were getting better.”

  Alex shook her head, clearly not enough for Claire to notice. She felt pretty sure that getting better wasn’t the right choice of words. Subsisting, maybe. “I’m holding my own.” She gestured at the lake. “No matter what, this place will always be a part of me, the good and the bad. I miss being here, but as long as I’m away, I’m able to keep a lid on what happened to Jake, for the most part. Confronting my mother about it is a darkness I don’t think I’m equipped to handle yet.”

  Her hands involuntarily clenched into fists and opened again—a telltale sign that her anxiety was on the verge of getting the better of her again. Ever since her plane had touched down yesterday, it loomed heavy in the background, waiting to make its predatory moves. Breathe, Alex.

  “I know it must still be hard for you,” Claire said. “Maybe finally coming home to the people and place you love the most is the best thing. Don’t they say that to conquer your fear you have to confront it?”

  Alex thought Claire couldn’t possibly understand how it felt to slog through the anxiety and depression that had taken hold of her life like an anchor around her neck. Her former friend wasn’t in a position to provide advice. Unfortunately, Claire had been front and center to her nervous breakdown and subsequent hospitalization after Jake’s death at the tender age of fifteen. Even though they were strangers now, Claire knew her deepest secret. If she was going to get through even a week of being home, she’d have to use every ounce of patience she had.

  “You sound like my therapist,” she said. “I’d prefer that you didn’t.”

  “I’m only trying to be a friend.”

  “I know. I don’t mean to be short with you. Just give me some time to sort things out while I’m here.” Alex nudged Claire with her elbow. “I’ll do my best to try and find the nerve to see Mother. Okay?”

  “Remember what you used to say to me when we were kids and about to jump off Hawk’s Leap into the water?” Claire asked.

  Alex recalled the thirty-foot cliff rising out of the lake on the eastern shore. Jumping from the top into the deep water below was a rite of passage and the means to be accepted into the “in crowd” for kids who spent their summers on Sebago. She nodded. “Don’t let fear anchor your feet to the ground…”

  Claire chimed in, and in unison they finished the refrain, “Or you’ll never get to do anything fun. Just jump already.”

  Claire laughed. “You were the bravest kid in town.”

  The irony of her fearlessness as a child compared to being a grown woman afraid of her own shadow made Alex sad. Memories intermingled with the parade of theoretical horribles she had become so adept at conjuring. As an adult, she spent more time thinking about all the bad things that might happen to her as opposed to living in and enjoying the moment. Her mind became more anxious with each step. She needed to get control over her worries.

  Alex closed her mouth and inhaled through her nose, letting the cool morning air of Glasgow, Maine, in late May fill her lungs. The sweet fragrance reminded her of more peaceful times when Maine was the only place she’d ever wanted to be. She exhaled slowly through her mouth and repeated the process, filling herself with calm by forcing worry out of her body with each exhalation. I’m trying my best to be brave.

  “There’s something you need to know.” Claire’s voice interrupted her efforts to find calm.

  In the town of Glasgow, Alex could only imagine. “What’s that?”

  “Your father hired a camp manager. He spends so much time lately driving back and forth to the nursing home in Lewiston where your mom is that he decided he needed some help running the place.”

  “I think that’s a good thing. For a long time, I hoped he’d get someone to help him. I may not want to have anything to do with the camp, but I do want it to continue to succeed. It’s too important to the kids who come here every summer for it not to remain.”

  “The manager’s James Bastone.” Claire hesitated. “Your father hired him about a year ago. I know how you feel about him. But he’s been a huge help to your dad and the camp.”

  Alex squeezed the bridge of her nose to pinch back an instant headache as they rounded a bend. The large rectangular road sign that signified the history of her family, the town of Glasgow, and her childhood came into view. The bold black letters on a green background read, “Camp Marcotte, 3 miles ahead. A place that holds the redemptive power of nature for all children. Established in 1921.” The camp’s slogan struck her as nothing less than satire. Her teenage years had been anything but redemptive, and now James Bastone was managing the camp.

  “You’re kidding, right?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Alex stopped. “The kid who was in every one of our classes from grade school to high school and who never missed an opportunity to bully Jake is now running my family’s camp. My father is still so clueless. He might as well invite the fox into the henhouse and let it have whatever it wants.”

  “Your dad needed the help and James was there. Maybe this is James’s way of making up for what happened. We were all just kids. Unfortunately, sometimes kids do stupid, cruel things. But they’re still just kids. He’s not like he was before.”

  “I find that impossible to believe. He was mean to the core.” Alex bit back anger. “James and his cronies played a part in my brother being gone forever. My father should just sell the place if he needs that much help. Maybe James would be interested.”

  “Don’t say such a thing! It would kill your father. You may have run from the camp, but he still clings to it, and he nee
ds you. We all do. You’re not alone in what happened to Jake. You never were.” She gripped her elbow. “I can’t imagine in a million years what it must have been like for you to have lost Jake the way you did, but we all went through it too. The camp has never been the same and neither has this town. We were all devastated. We shared the loss.”

  Tears caught in Alex’s throat. But not the blame. She swallowed them, determined to keep her vow not to cry as long as she was in Glasgow.

  She gazed at the lake. All the bittersweet memories locked below its surface would forever be imprinted on her soul. Forcing back the urge to panic, she caught herself holding her breath. She was standing in a wide-open space, but the conversation culminating in a discussion of James, her family, and selling the camp had backed her into a corner like a wounded animal. The all-too-familiar rush of adrenaline prepared her to bolt away. She tried to remain rational. Running at full speed was the only thing that would let her escape.

  “I’d like to run the rest of the way,” she said.

  “Sure,” Claire said. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

  “It’s not you. Let me stretch my legs. That always helps me think.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you back at the camp.”

  Alex put one foot in front of the other, slowly at first until her muscles warmed. She picked up the pace, stretching her long legs. She imagined herself a race car, the engine throttle opening wide to accelerate. Her breathing became deep and steady. The myriad of thoughts and fears that clamored around her faded into the background. She was aware only of her body’s movements and the sound of her breathing.

  Attuned to the effects running had on her anxiety, she felt the adrenaline and cortisol being replaced by a cocktail of the brain-calming chemicals: serotonin, dopamine, and endorphins. Running was her drug of choice because it still worked, for the most part.

  She glanced over her shoulder this time, not at Claire or anything tangible. Rather, to gauge whether the demons of Glasgow were still closing in on her. Something in the sky caught her eye. An enormous black raptor with a cloud-white head spread its wings and glided over her.