Tofino Storm

by Edie Claire

  “Christi was covering for her,” Amy said more gently. “It’s what the closest relative often does.”

  A series of recognizable creaks sounded overhead. Gran had gotten out of bed and was now in the bathroom. Laney sucked in a breath and composed herself.

  “We came over here to talk to you, honey,” June said quietly. “Can we sit a minute? I suspect your Gran will be in the bathroom a while.”

  Laney nodded. They moved to the eat-in kitchen table.

  “I’ll start some coffee,” June offered as Laney and her cousin sat down.

  Amy focused her keen eyes on Laney, speaking in a firm whisper. “Here’s the thing,” she began. “You know that May can’t live here anymore. Not by herself.”

  Laney nodded once more. She was beginning to feel like a bobble head, but it was easier than talking.

  “Nobody expects you to take care of her by yourself, either,” Amy stated with emphasis. “Even if you could move back to Peck right now, you couldn’t care take of her here, in this house, by yourself. It just isn’t possible. Not with her getting up at all hours of the night and wandering out the door.”

  Laney swallowed. She hadn’t said anything to anyone about Gran’s wandering. But she wasn’t surprised that June and Amy knew. They were familiar with the neighbors, and the neighbors knew everything.

  June moved closer to Laney’s ear. “And don’t you even think about quitting school to come back here and try!” she ordered. “You know that your mother wouldn’t want that, and neither would your Gran, when she was in her right mind. She was always so proud of what you’ve accomplished. We all are. So you’re going to get that doctorate and you’re going to save lives from tornados just like you always said you would. And that’s that!”

  Some inner part of Laney nearly crumpled in relief, even as another part felt guilty. In the midst of her grief over her mother’s passing, the possibility of having to leave school permanently had always lurked in the back of her mind. But it was too disturbing to contemplate.

  “We know you’re overwhelmed right now,” Amy continued. “You might not even have had time to think about all this yet, which is why we didn’t want to say anything until after the funeral.”

  Laney remained silent. She had been thinking about it, just not coherently.

  “What Aunt May needs is a specialized kind of assisted living, called memory care,” Amy explained. “There’s a facility in Sikeston now that’s designed just for people with dementia. I have friends who work there. It’s a lovely place, with private studio suites. Aunt May can bring her own furniture and we’ll fix it up nice and cozy with things that are familiar to her. She’ll be safe there, with people watching over her twenty-four seven. No more wandering down the street, knocking on doors at four o’clock in the morning in her sock feet.”

  Or barefoot, Laney thought with chagrin.

  The toilet upstairs flushed. June sat down beside Laney and put a hand on her arm. “The best part, honey, is that the center’s less than ten minutes from me. I can go and see your Gran every day. And believe me, if anybody there isn’t treating her right, I’ll be having something to say about it!”

  “They’ll treat her very well,” Amy insisted. “Three meals a day, medical care, and a daily program of activities to keep her active and socially engaged.” Her voice lowered as May’s steps began to creak on the stairs. “We understand that the final decision is yours, Laney. But honestly, there’s no reason to wait. They have an opening now, and I have it tentatively reserved. There’s just no point in Aunt May getting into a new routine here, without Christi, and then having to uproot again. She might as well make the move now, so she can get settled into a permanent place as soon as possible. Believe me, it’ll be better for her that way.”

  Laney felt herself nodding slowly. What her relatives were suggesting made sense. May had always been close to her niece. Both women loved her dearly, even if they weren’t blood relatives.

  She began to feel a dull sort of hope — the first glimpse of light in a future that for months now, she’d been unable to envision at all. She also felt a deep sense of relief, even as she felt guilty for abdicating her duty as next of kin. But her feeling guilty didn’t mean that following her family’s advice still wasn’t the right thing to do. If she took her great-grandmother back to Oklahoma with her, May would have to uproot again when Laney graduated and with every move thereafter. In Sikeston, May could stay put indefinitely with three generations of family by her side. “You’re right, and thank you,” Laney agreed.

  May’s footsteps creaked on the stairs. After a moment she appeared in the doorway wearing a winter coat over her nightgown. “Who all are you people?” she barked, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  Laney’s heart sank. Gran’s recognition of people had never been this bad.

  “It’s your niece June, Aunt May,” June said brightly, springing up from her chair. “My daughter Amy and I came over to have some breakfast with you and Laney.” She put a hand on May’s arm and smiled at her. “You remember me now, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” May said readily, patting her hand. She nodded at Amy. “And how are you, honey?”

  “I’m just fine, Aunt May,” Amy answered with a smile. “Can I get you a fresh cup of coffee?”

  May didn’t answer the question. Her gaze swung toward Laney. As their eyes met, the older woman’s face fell. “And you,” she said dully.

  “It’s Laney, Aunt May,” June jumped in quickly. “You remember Laney, your girl Christi’s daughter?”

  May’s dark eyes continued staring. Seeing, yet unseeing. “I remember Laney,” she said clearly. “But you’re not her.”

  Laney’s chin trembled. She had known that this would happen. But it was still hard.

  “Why, sure she is!” June chirped. “She’s just grown a lot since you saw her last, I bet!”

  But May was having none of it. Her face hardened, and her tired, red eyes flashed with anger. “Laney died,” May said clearly. “Died up in that tornado. She never came back.”

  All three woman froze in stunned silence. “Now… what on earth are you on about?” June said finally, wrapping an arm around May’s frail shoulders. “Of course our Laney survived that tornado! You know she did. Why, she’s right there in front of you! See!”

  “I see her,” May repeated. “But she’s not our Laney.” The dark look disappeared. Her eyes filled with tears. “She’s the other one.”

  Chapter 5

  Tofino, British Columbia, Present Day

  The expected storm struck with its full fury just as Jason set out from the lodge to return home. Cold rain fell in torrents onto the windshield of his aged Civic, and his wipers worked so hard to keep up that the whole car rocked with their motion. The storm came with neither thunder nor lightning, which was typical for the island coast, but it packed violent waves and strong, wet winds. Jason made slow progress up the two-lane Pacific Rim Highway, having to dodge several fallen tree branches along the way. He then maneuvered through the grid of streets in town, splashing through a maze of standing puddles until at last he reached his duplex. He parked on the driveway — his truck occupying his garage — and made a dash for the door. Getting his street clothes wet wasn’t ordinarily a big deal, but getting them completely soaked twice in one day was galling for a man who spent half his waking time in a wetsuit.

  He threw open his unlocked front door, but had to fight the stubborn wind to get it closed again. “Geez, it’s nasty out there,” he complained as he kicked off his shoes. “Do you want to—”

  He stopped short at the entrance to his kitchen. He sniffed. He had dropped Ben off to unwind and settle in during his own quick spy run back to the lodge. The last thing he’d expected was for the oceanographer to cook. But here Ben was, rattling around Jason’s afterthought of a kitchen, putting its hodgepodge of pots and pans to actual use creating an aroma that was freakin’ fabulous. It was evening already, and Jason had barely had
any lunch; suddenly he was starving.

  “Dude,” he said with reverence. “Whatever you charge, you’re hired. What is this?”

  “Secret family recipe,” Ben replied. “It’s called whatever-the-hell-you’ve-got spaghetti.”

  “I had spaghetti?”

  “It takes creativity.”

  Jason chuckled and dropped down on a bar stool. “You didn’t have to cook. I was going to order a pizza or something. Make somebody else go out in the rain.” He looked around his living room, and his brow furrowed. He was pretty sure he’d left a load of finished laundry dumped on the couch. “You cleaned up, too?” he asked with amazement.

  Ben grinned. “I am an excellent house guest. Makes for repeat invites.”

  Jason laughed again.

  “Enjoy,” Ben proclaimed, spooning his pasta concoction onto a plate and sliding it across the counter to his host. “Did you find out anything?”

  Jason took a bite before answering, closing his eyes with appreciation. Who’d have guessed that a combination of elbow pasta, bacon, and canned corn and tomatoes could taste so good? “Nothing helpful so far as locating Laney’s next of kin,” he said finally. “But I did learn some things.”

  “Oh?” Ben settled onto another stool, and Jason summarized his findings as the two men ate.

  “That’s incredible,” Ben agreed. “I’ve never been around tornados either, but… wow. Do you think—”

  Jason’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number and was about to ignore it when he remembered the voice mail he’d left. “I think this might be Laney’s real estate agent,” he told Ben as he picked up. “Hello?”

  There was a brief pause before a woman’s voice answered. “Hello. Is this Jason Buchanan? This is Karen Rhodes. From Hess-Foulk Realty. You called about a listing in Peck?” The caller sounded middle-aged, and although she was trying to sound professional, highly uncertain.

  Jason smiled to himself. No doubt it would seem suspicious for someone interested in a house in rural Missouri to have a Canadian area code. “Yes,” he answered smoothly, “I’m calling on behalf of Laney Miller, actually. I was hoping you could help her out. I own a hostel here in Tofino, and she checked in earlier today, but then she was in a bit of an accident. We’ve been trying to reach her next of kin, May Burgdorf, but we don’t have a current number. We were hoping you might know how we can reach her.”

  Another pause. “An accident? Where’d you say Laney was?” the woman asked. She sounded upset; her flat American accent had gone even flatter. “Tof— What?”

  “Tofino,” Jason repeated. “British Columbia.”

  More silence.

  “In Canada,” Jason tried again. “On the Pacific Coast.”

  “Well, what in the world is she doing up there?” the woman demanded.

  Jason’s shoulders slumped a bit. Clearly, the agent was not a close confidant. “We don’t know, I’m afraid. But we would like to find her great-grandmother.”

  “Is Laney okay?”

  Jason rubbed his forehead. He didn’t want to give out too much personal information, but he didn’t want to cause a panic among Laney’s friends, either. “We’re hoping she’ll be fine,” he said evasively. “But she listed her mother and great-grandmother as emergency contacts—”

  “Her momma died not a month ago. Oh, Lord, this is terrible!”

  Jason agreed. “Do you have a number for May I could pass on to the hospital?”

  “Won’t do you no good, hun,” Karen replied, all trace of professionalism gone now. “Laney’s grandma’s got Alzheimer’s. That’s why they’re selling the house, you know. She’s in a care home now, I think in Sikeston? I can’t remember.”

  Jason’s hopes fell. Even if they could reach May, it didn’t sound like she would be in a position to travel to or make medical decisions for Laney. Besides which, the last thing the poor woman herself probably needed after losing one relative was to hear that another had been hospitalized!

  “Laney does have some other family around,” Karen continued. “You want me to try and get their numbers? I can’t remember how they’re related exactly…”

  Jason considered. Locating the people Laney had specifically listed on an emergency contact form was one thing, but involving random relatives in her affairs was another. “No,” he answered. “That won’t be necessary. At least not right now. But thank you.” He launched into a delicate schmoozing operation aimed at convincing the realtor to keep her mouth shut about the situation — theoretically until Laney herself gave permission. Then he hung up the phone with a sigh.

  “Smooth,” Ben commented with a smirk as he finished off his plate. “I do believe that poor realtor thinks you’re in love with her.”

  Jason chuckled sadly. “I just wish my stint as a private investigator had actually accomplished something.”

  His phone rang again.

  “Maybe she’ll ask you out,” Ben teased.

  Jason raised an eyebrow. Laney wasn’t really his type; besides which it seemed crass to talk about her when she was injured.

  Ben’s grin broadened. “I, uh… was talking about the realtor.”

  Jason rolled his eyes and looked at his phone. He read the name and swiftly answered. “Steve? What’s up?”

  “She’s awake,” the doctor replied heartily. “She’s a little disoriented, but overall the signs are very encouraging.”

  Jason blew out a breath of relief. He smiled at Ben and passed on the news. “Should I come down now?” he asked the doctor.

  “At some point, yes,” Steve replied. “Seeing and talking to you again might jog her memory.”

  “She has amnesia?”

  “Not like you’re probably thinking, no,” the doctor assured. “She knows who she is. But a little bit of confusion and short-term memory loss are common with concussion, especially when there’s been a prolonged loss of consciousness. She can remember her mother passing away a few weeks ago; she’s just fuzzy on more recent events, which is typical. And usually temporary.”

  “Does she remember coming to Tofino?” Jason asked.

  “No, nor does she have any idea why she made the trip,” the doctor answered. “Which is upsetting to her, as you can imagine. Odds are that it will all come back to her soon. But it’s possible that talking to you could speed up the process.”

  “Got it,” Jason replied, picking up his keys. “I’m on my way.” He thanked the doctor, hung up, and relayed the news to Ben while moving toward the door.

  Ben moved with him. “Okay. You’re going back to lodge first though, right?”

  “No,” Jason answered. “Why would I?”

  “To get her stuff.”

  Jason shook his head. “It’s way out of the way. Besides, they have gowns and toothpaste and everything there.”

  Ben raised his palms in the air. “Look, you can do whatever you want, but take it from an old married man who grew up with four sisters — any woman who wakes up in a strange hospital bed after traveling all day and then getting accidently dunked in the ocean is going to want her stuff. Her own clothes, her deo, whatever the hell she uses on her face, not to mention her phone. Show up with it first and you’ll make a friend for life.” His eyes sparkled with humor. “Trust me, man. I know these things.”

  Jason, who considered himself highly knowledgeable on all issues female, gave a noncommittal nod. Then he made another run through the rain to his car, drove back to the main highway, and turned toward the lodge.

  Chapter 6

  Laney stared out the window beside her bed, her eyes narrowed with concentration. It was dark, and it was raining, and all she could see outside by the light in the parking lot were two cars and a line of pine trees.

  British Columbia. Canada! This was insane. What the hell was she doing so far away from home? Her first reaction had been that she must have been kidnapped. It was a crazy thought, yet no other explanation seemed any less ridiculous.

  If what the staff kept telling her
was true — and why would they lie? — she’d come to Tofino of her own free will. Alone.

  It was unbelievable. She’d never even heard of Tofino.

  She desperately wanted to talk to her Gran, to make sure that she was all right and not worried about Laney’s absence, but Gran wasn’t at home anymore. Laney seemed to know that, even before the staff told her that the landline was disconnected. But where was she? Laney had a horrible feeling that she had lost her. That Gran was out there, somewhere, wandering and confused. Her Aunt June had to be told, but Laney didn’t have her cell phone and didn’t know the number. Her mushy brain couldn’t even produce June’s last name! Hell, she could barely remember her own. Wait… what was it, again? Oh, dear God, surely she— Miller! She practically teared up with relief. At least she could remember that!

  A tentative knock sounded on the door, and the freckle-faced doctor returned. Behind him came another man carrying an object that made her heart sing.

  “My suitcase!” she heard herself exclaim, sitting upright in bed as she did so. A bolt of pain shot through her skull and the room began to swim, but Laney held out both arms anyway. “Oh, thank God!” she cried, and this time her eyes did tear up. “I’ve never been so glad to see an inanimate object in my life!”

  She was telling the truth. There was something profoundly comforting about the familiar blue and purple patterned roller bag. It was a piece of home, a piece of her old self, a piece of flippin’ sanity. She moved her legs to one side and the man obliged by lifting the bag and setting it at the foot of the bed.

  “Ms. Miller,” said the doctor. “This is Jason Buchanan. He owns the hostel where you made reservations for the week. You chatted with him briefly when you checked in.”

  Laney fumbled with the zippers until she had the top open. One look flooded her with comfort. Her own clothes! Her stuff!

  “Ms. Miller?” the doctor said again.

  Suddenly aware of her lack of awareness, Laney looked up from the bag. She did remember being told something about a hostel. It was yet another unreal aspect to the story. She had zero experience with such places; she’d always thought they were a European backpacker thing. But if she had to imagine the proprietor of such a business, she certainly would not envision the individual standing next to the doctor. This man was not much older than herself, and he was exceptionally good looking. Tall and lean, with the wide shoulders and narrow hips of a swimmer — or at least that’s what image came to her mind, having been a competitive swimmer herself as an undergrad. He had light-brown curly hair, a sexy scruff of beard over the kind of bone structure that graced cologne advertisements, and unusual gray-green eyes. She didn’t need a second look to know that he was also the kind of man who was never, ever lonely.