"I'm asking you." Her eyes watched him closely.
Finn laughed. "Well," he said, "I think we might be here for a few weeks before things clear up and get back to normal. But I am no meteorologist."
"Even in New Orleans, they're no better than I am at predicting anything," she teased lightly, but then almost instantly frowned. She looked distraught. "And the stores close so early on the island…” She sighed. "Well, I suppose canned food is still food."
When he gave her a strange look, she added, "I did something...kind of stupid." Ana squeezed the book tighter, but didn't look shy or uncomfortable so much as cold and distressed. He sensed a change in the air, as she began her confession. "So...Alex gave me a list of things to do to ‘winter proof’ the house. The power cord for the refrigerator was older and I accidentally broke it. The food all spoiled before Alex could get here to help me."
She was nervous at Finn’s reaction. He guessed it took a lot for her to come over and talk to him. He could see she felt silly. "Don't feel too bad," he reassured her, “the house is very old, and those wires were probably original. It was bound to happen, it’s just an unfortunate coincidence that it happened to you."
"Terrible timing, though,” Ana said. He knew what she meant. With the ferries closed, the grocery store would not be getting any new meat or vegetables in from the mainland. Most islanders stocked a couple months worth of meat in their freezers for this very reason, and hers was now lost. Thinking of his empty freezer and sparse tanks, Finn knew he wouldn’t be much help. "Alex called a bit ago and said that the Farnsworths on the other side of the island have some extra food and he is going to see if he can buy any off of them,” she added with a sigh.
“You wouldn’t be the first person who had to dip into the town food storage,” he said.
“Oh! Here I am asking you questions and I haven’t even introduced myself...I’m Anasofiya Deschanel, but Ana is fine.” With one hand gripping her book to her chest, she thrust the other one toward him.
Finn laughed and shook her hand. “I know who you are,” he said. “No offense, but everyone does. I’m-”
“Finn, yes, I know, too.” She watched him, and he couldn’t read her expression. He was suddenly reminded of Jon. “I mean…sorry…that was rude–I just meant that yes I know who you are, too.”
He looked down at the lobster he was carrying. The bug’s claws had been moving the whole time and he noticed she had adjusted a few times to avoid being snipped. He remembered that Jon was working late that evening, to watch over the McElroy dog.
"Want to come over for dinner?" Finn asked her. He wasn't sure how she would take an invitation like that.
Ana blushed but quickly recovered herself. "I'd love to, but I actually need to keep an eye out on stuff at the house. I have the fridge airing and the freezer defrosting." She laughed. “You know, really interesting stuff.”
"We can eat at your house then," he said.
He could see her good breeding come through as she said, "That would be lovely except I have never prepared a lobster before, and I feel a little ill-equipped to receive you with the house as it is."
Finn laughed. He had been studying her through the entire conversation. How she looked, acted. She wasn't flirting, and she wasn't nervous. Uncertain, perhaps, but otherwise she was very...normal. "Ana, I could care less how the house looks, and I'd never let anyone cook my lobster, anyway. Not if I intended to eat it after."
Ana laughed and accidentally dropped her book. He reached down and picked it up for her, and as she took it she said, "If I wasn't so hungry, I'd never allow the insult, but as it stands, I haven't had any meat in three days and I'm a little desperate."
He was pretty sure there was no intentional double meaning, but her words excited him anyway. She's very pretty, he thought. And he knew he was good looking because everyone always told him so. Had he not been Mr. Summer Island four years running? But there was something very different about Ana Deschanel, something that kept him from seeing her in the ardent way he saw most women. He didn’t know what to expect from the evening, but he was looking forward to it. He forgot about his shower, and Jon, and the problem of their winter food storage.
Ana took the lobster from him–maybe she wasn't afraid of the claws after all–and they walked back to her house in comfortable silence.
Chapter Ten: Jonathan
Mr. Jenkins lay on the table, still sleeping from his tumor surgery. His owner, Jessica McElroy, had left to get something to eat. She offered to get something for Jon as well, but he politely refused. It was past six already, and he was hungry, but he felt uncomfortable saying yes so it was silent starvation for him tonight unless Finn saved some leftovers.
Mr. Jenkins' chest rose and fell as his body filled with each breath. Jon ran his hands across the dog’s face, and Mr. Jenkins responded with a low, happy sigh. Jon hadn't thought the dog was going to make it, but everything went better than expected. It looked as if he would survive the night too, and maybe live to see his tenth year. Jon smiled in the darkness; a rare thing, and something almost always reserved just for moments like these, and for the little hairy beasts on his table.
Jessica returned an hour later. She had brought extra for Jon anyway, and left it in front of him even after his polite refusal. He ate in spite of himself. She ate in silence and he was grateful for it. He wasn't sure why human interaction was so painful for him. He had friends growing up, and in college. In medical school, even, though he didn’t like to think about that time of his life. It might have been around then that he started to change and grow into himself more.
"I'll be right back. I just need to call my husband," Jessica said, before heading into the reception area. Everyone was so comfortable with each other on this island that no one bothered asking unimportant questions about whether it was okay to use someone's phone or not. He both loved that and loathed it. Loved the quiet, loathed the familiarity.
No, that wasn't entirely true. There was comfort in familiarity too. When you were familiar enough with someone, you understood them in ways others did not. People on the island understood that Jon was a good man, and a reliable man, but also knew that he wanted to be left alone. They didn't question why he didn't come to town events, or celebrations, or that he wasn't yet married–or even in a relationship–at the age of thirty-three. They didn’t exactly understand it, but they accepted it. He was one of them, and they protected their own.
Jon remembered the exact day when Ana showed up because that's when the panic attacks started back up. The day she arrived next door with her five suitcases (yes, he had counted), and her quiet look. In the evenings, sometimes, he would sit in his study, which faced east and her house. His heart leapt anytime she would walk into her foyer and close her door; a door she might think to come out of, and come over to introduce herself. He wanted her to stay on her side, much like he wanted the people on the mainland to stay on theirs.
A week ago, she had stood holding the dying cat, soaked from the rain, looking helpless. Had she shown up instead at his door at home with a basket of baked goods, he might have hidden quietly until she went away. But Ana showed up at his office with a wounded animal, and all he could do was silently take the creature from her trembling arms.
He said nothing as he took the small cat into the back, but he nearly jumped when, moments later, she had pushed through the door and was standing with her hands balled into fists at her side. She started rambling before he could say a word.
"Someone hit her with their truck. I watched them. I...I watched them, and watched them look back...and drive away," she said. There were tears in her eyes, but she was trying to steady herself.
"Did you see the driver?" Jon had asked, without looking up.
"Yes...a man. Forties, maybe, big. He was driving an old red Ford pickup, and he had this bumper sticker that said-"
"My wife said I had to choose between her and fishing. I'm sure gonna miss her," he finished for her.
"You know him?"
Unfortunately, they all knew Jim Sharp. With so few people on the island, and a drunken slob who went out of his way to cause problems for anyone smaller than him, he couldn't exactly hide.
Jon worked in silence on the cat, as she paced the room, arms crossed. A few times Ana tried to say something but stopped, and he was grateful for it. The cat’s wounds were mostly superficial and looked worse than they actually were, so after he stitched her up, he told Ana he would take the cat home with him to keep an eye on her.
"You do that?" Ana asked. “What happens to her after that?”
"I'm not sure," he said, even though he was. It wouldn't be the first stray he brought home to keep an eye on and ended up adopting. Finn’s dog, Angus, started off as a patient. “But if she lives, it will be because of you.”
"Not me," she said, meeting his gaze for the first time. "You."
He shrugged, but it still mattered to him when he could save a life, and when others could witness his gift.
"After this, maybe you’ll let me properly introduce myself finally," she said after a pause, extending her hand. "Anasofiya Deschanel."
Jon nodded and turned away, his heart racing, hating these moments where he knew he was supposed to do something, anything, even the smallest polite gesture. Why was he like this? The air grew cold between them as she realized he was being rude. Of course it seemed rude…but was he really capable of, or willing to, explain the details of his physiological make up to her, simply because he couldn't return a handshake and an introduction?
"Alright, well I already know who you are, so I suppose introduction aren’t necessary," Ana said, some of the warmth gone from her voice. "How much do I owe you?"
He felt bad. He did. But not bad enough to apologize. "Nothing," he said, his back to her still. "You did the cat a favor."
Jon felt her stiffen behind him, but the warmth was back. "I thank you again, Dr. St. Andrews. I'm sorry for any inconvenience. If you ever need anything, you know where I live."
She lingered for a moment, waiting for a response. When he said nothing, she left.
"Sheriff Horn said you helped Ana today," Finn had said, later that night. Finn had been drinking at the Thirsty Wench, and was home even later than Jon.
"Ana? Oh, you mean the new girl.” Jon had pretended not to know who she was.
Finn gave him a side-eye glance. "Uh-huh. The new girl. You know, the one you are terrified of. The one who you watch at nights, horrified that she might come and–god forbid–introduce herself. The one I've seen you watching me wave to in the evenings. The one people say you were actually rude to in public. The one with the pretty red hair. That new girl."
Finn was the only one allowed to tease him about how he was, but it didn't mean Jon liked it. "She won't be here long enough for us to care one way or the other," he grumbled.
"She's nice. She has a lot of hair, but I didn't notice any horns. We haven't talked, but Alex didn’t mention a forked tongue or fangs. And she's quiet...like you, you know."
Jon had sensed that about her, but it didn't change the fact that she had interrupted his efforts at seclusion. He realized that he didn't really want Finn talking to her either, because if they hit it off, then he might have to see more of her. Jon was used to Finn's girls, but only because he had known them his whole life, too. It wasn’t as if they ever lasted long.
“You know the cat was hers,” Finn said. “Kind of.”
Jon looked up, surprised. “Hers?”
“Well, a stray that had been hanging around her house. She’s been feeding it and made a bed on her porch for it. She even gave it a name. Cocoa, I think. Alex was talking about it tonight. I swear that codger is in love with her, the way he goes on and on about her...course that would be a first for him...Pa always said he was a eunuch...”
Jon barely heard the last of his brother’s ramblings, but the first part of what he had said took him off guard. Feeding a stray was something he would have done, so it would seem logical that her kindness would have warmed him to her a bit. But Jon’s feelings were not logical, and so instead he was simply annoyed that she had done something that he knew he should be giving her praise for. He also wondered if she would want to come visit Cocoa once she figured out Jon had brought her home to convalesce.
No good deed ever went unpunished.
Jon was still lost in his thoughts, when Jessica returned from calling her husband. "Jackson said the storm is coming."
Yes, he knew that. Finn told him. Finn had always had the gift of sense, and even Jon had to concede to that.
"You go home. I'll keep an eye on Mr. Jenkins a while longer and he can spend the night at our house."
"Thanks Jon," she said, already pulling on her coat. Islanders may be used to storms, but there was no amount of pride in them that was bigger than their good sense. "If the roads are open, I'll come by tomorrow to get him."
"Either way," he said. After Jessica was gone, he surprised himself by wondering how Ana was getting on with the storm preparation. He shrugged off the thought.
Chapter Eleven: Alex
Alex could have kicked himself for missing Ana’s call earlier that afternoon. He had actually been doing something for her at the time: the central heating in the upstairs of her house was faulty and Alex was looking into a portable heater that she could use in her bedroom. His cracked lips spread into a wide, beaming smile as he imagined her face when she realized what he had done for her. He might even be the last person she thought of each night before drifting off into a warm, comfortable rest.
Unfortunately, True Value didn’t have any left in stock, and he wouldn’t make it in time to catch the last ferry into town. He had it in his mind to ask the Farnsworths if they had any extras lying around-–they were known for being packrats and if they didn’t have something, no one would–but something told him to go home first. When he checked his messages, he heard Ana’s panicked voice describing the incident with the fridge.
Alex smacked his palm to his forehead. He was forgetting things again! He had known the cord was rotting, and he knew that at some point, during the cord wrapping exercise he had set her on, she would discover it and call him. But he was having trouble keeping track of these things, and his headaches had started to come back.
He called her back before the message finished playing, and his heart leapt at the lovely sound of Ana’s relieved voice flooding his ears. He quickly and boldly told her that he was going to arrange to get some of the reserves from the Farnsworths and would bring it by later that evening, or early the next morning.
After he hung up the phone, an amazing thought occurred to him. As all of Ana’s food had spoiled, she would have nothing to eat...and she could hardly cook even when she had food. He reckoned she had not had a hearty, home-cooked meal since she arrived.
An idea was forming in Alex’s head. A brilliant, wonderful idea.
The sun was starting to set, so anything too elaborate was out of the question, but he had just bought some fresh catch cod that would bake up nicely. He went to work quickly in the kitchen, humming to himself as he prepared the codfish, some garlic and basil potatoes, and fresh steamed broccoli.
She is going to love this, Alex thought to himself, over and over as he worked. He recalled the look in her eyes whenever she asked for help, or mentioned how others had received her. He couldn’t do much about how others treated Ana, but he could be there when she needed him. Tonight, he would save the day and she wouldn’t even be expecting it!
He carefully wrapped the prepared meal in foil, placing it in a box, and then delicately topped it with towels. He hoped that would preserve the heat long enough to get it over to her. He raced out the door, and then stopped abruptly.
Wine! He thought. What a lovely surprise that will be!
Alex was not much of a wine drinker, but the Aldridge’s had a vineyard and they always gave him a bottle of wine when he would come out and fix something around the house for them. He
had nine of them sitting in the pantry, untouched. He studied them, and realizing he didn’t know the difference between a red or white, finally settled on a red and fled out the door.
Alex thought his heart was going to beat clear out of his chest. He didn’t know what to make of what he was feeling, but this felt somehow...different than any of the other times. There was nothing in life that gave Alex a greater purpose than helping others. Sadly, all of the other women had become distant, and ungrateful, eventually beginning to resent Alex’s help.
In contrast, Ana never failed to thank him or appreciate him. He pictured her beautiful, relieved smile when he found her, drenched and helpless at the lighthouse. She was such a rare and unique girl, a true diamond in the rough. Part of him enjoyed how the rest of the town ignored her and, in the case of folks like Jon, were actually rude to her. It meant that he could be there for her, to make it better, and show her what it was like to have someone who truly cared.
Alex thought that if she had ever experienced that before, she wouldn’t have come here.
As he pulled into her driveway, he stopped and backed the car up, parking on the shoulder of Heron Hollow Road. It would be better if he could surprise her. One surprise after another. She was going to be beside herself!
He carried the box and walked down the driveway with a skip in his step, his heart beating even faster. As he approached the large colonial, he saw her in the window and the blood rushed to his head so fast he almost dropped the box. A smile slowly began to spread across his face, but then the smile died on his lips as he saw another head in her kitchen: Finn St. Andrews.
Alex’s eyes narrowed into even slits, and his grip on the box tightened. He could hear the foil crunching inside and it angered him further. His head was starting to throb, one of his headaches imminent. He set the box down on the side of the driveway, dinner forgotten.
He knew he should leave, but he had to know what was going on. It was possible that Finn was being neighborly. Alex knew she couldn’t be spending any regular time with Finn, or she wouldn’t have asked about him. But then, maybe that’s why she was asking...because she wanted to know if Finn was okay for dating? No, no...Alex shook his head furiously. No; it was probably just that she had called Finn when she couldn’t reach Alex earlier about the fridge. But that didn’t make sense either, as he had talked to her not so long ago and she knew he was coming over later.
The Storm and the Darkness Page 6
