Never Ever

by Sara Saedi

  But just as they pressed against the logs to find their way out, Wylie glimpsed a tiny scrap of paper peeking out from behind one of the curtains. She pulled the curtain open and discovered a bulletin board covered in article clippings about the Daltons. Most of them were about the accident they’d had in the Hamptons. Tinka stood next to her and examined the collage.

  “Oh my God,” she blurted. “I know why Phinn brought you to the island.”

  MAURA’S HAIR SMELLED DIFFERENT. SHE MUST HAVE changed her shampoo since Gregory had moved out. He tried not to inhale too deeply as they held on to each other. They hadn’t touched one another in months, and he didn’t want to do anything that would make her break the embrace. The closeness felt new and familiar all at the same time, and he didn’t want to let go.

  Gregory had fantasized about this moment, but he’d thought it would occur under happier circumstances. The police would call and tell them they’d found their children safe and sound. Gregory would hang up the phone, announce the good news to Maura, and she would throw her arms around him. Instead, the call Gregory had received that morning was to inform them that the police were officially putting an end to their search. He had waited all day to tell Maura, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.

  “How could they do this to us?” Maura cried in his arms.

  “It’s going to be okay. This doesn’t mean we have to stop looking. We’ll hold another press conference.”

  “We’re never going to see them again, are we?” Maura asked him.

  Neither of them had ever said it out loud, even though they’d both been tortured by the possibility.

  “Don’t think that way,” he whispered. “We’re going to get our kids back, safe and sound. That is one promise I will never go back on.”

  A knock on the door forced them out of the embrace. Maura reached for a box of tissues and wiped at her eyes as Gregory checked the peephole. He opened the door to a tearful Vanessa.

  “Hi, Mr. Dalton,” she said.

  Gregory let her in and Maura poured her a glass of water.

  “I just heard the news. I’m so sorry,” Vanessa told them.

  “We all are,” Maura replied gently.

  “No.” Vanessa shook her head. “This is all my fault. I didn’t tell the cops everything I knew. I thought I was protecting Wylie. . . . It’s stupid, but I thought if she didn’t want to be found, then I had to respect that. But I never expected her to be gone for so long. . . .”

  Gregory froze. “What are you telling us?”

  “I saw her leave the party with someone. A guy. Not anyone who went to our school. I’d never seen him before.”

  Gregory and Maura looked at each other. It was the only piece of new information they’d received in weeks. Vanessa was clearly in a fragile state, and if they didn’t tread lightly, she might fall to pieces and refuse to help them.

  “Do you remember what he looked like?” Gregory asked.

  Vanessa nodded.

  “Would you be willing to describe him to the police?”

  “Yes.”

  Gregory praised Vanessa for her courage, but he wanted to scream at her for withholding information from them for so long. They took a taxi to the police station and this time, the wait to speak with an officer was much shorter than the day they’d reported the kids missing. Gregory and Maura held hands while Vanessa gave her description to the sketch artist. The sound of the pencil scratching the page made every hair on Gregory’s arms stand upright as he listened to Vanessa describe the guy. Tan, sandy-colored skin. Auburn hair with hazel eyes. A scar above his eyebrow. An oval-shaped face. A strong chin with stubble on it. Slightly crooked teeth. A few freckles along his nose. Gorgeous, she emphasized. About five feet eleven inches. Lean but toned.

  “How old would you say he looked?” one of the cops asked.

  “He acted like a college kid, but he only looked about seventeen.”

  The police officers looked over the sketch and nodded. They told the Daltons they would run it through their database to see if it matched anyone with a criminal record.

  “We might already have the guy in custody for something else,” the police officer explained.

  Vanessa was the next person to look at the sketch.

  “That looks just like him,” she proclaimed.

  Maura looked at the picture and shuddered, then passed it to Gregory. He looked at the image staring back at him.

  No.

  That day in the police station, they’d asked him: Do either of you have any enemies?

  “Do you recognize this man?” the police officer asked them.

  Maura shook her head. Gregory couldn’t move.

  “Mr. Dalton? Do you recognize him?”

  “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  It took another hour for Gregory to get Maura home and wait for her to take a sleeping pill so she could get some rest. As soon as she drifted off, he bolted out of the house and hailed a cab.

  The workday was coming to an end, but there were still some employees lingering in their offices and cubicles. As he ran down the hallway, everyone pretended to shift their attention back to their computer screens. Shannon called out his name, but he kept running.

  He shut the door behind him as he entered his office, then upended his penholder on the desk. A key fell out that he used to unlock the bottom drawer on his file cabinet. Gregory pushed the files all the way to the back of the drawer, revealing a small wooden box that lay underneath them.

  He carefully took the box out of the drawer and opened it. Inside was a small pile of tattered Polaroids. All he had to do was look at the images and he was flooded with memories. The warm temperature of the water in the Clearing. The yellow ladybugs. The pop-pop sound of the parvaz flowers. The last time he’d looked at the photos was after Joshua’s accident. For a brief period, Gregory had actually debated sending Joshua away to the island. It was always in his worst moments that he was gripped by nostalgia for his old life.

  He sifted through the photos until he landed on one from his last few days on the island. Lola had taken the picture, and Maz and Tinka were in it. Gregory was in the middle, right next to Phinn, who still looked exactly like the person in the police sketch.

  Attached to one of the photos, Gregory found a folded piece of paper. The ink was faded, but he could still make out a map of the island, along with its coordinates. Tinka had slipped it to him in case he ever changed his mind and wanted to return.

  If you leave, I will find a way to make you regret it, Phinn had snarled at Gregory the day he’d announced his departure.

  Tears began streaming down his face. Maura had been right to suspect all of this was his fault. Phinn had made good on his promise. He had gotten his revenge. He had taken Gregory’s children from him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  hostages

  “that’s Gregory,” Tinka said.

  When Wylie swept the curtain aside and discovered a wall devoted to her family, she assumed Phinn had been keeping tabs on them after Joshua’s accident. He’d admitted to her that night in Brooklyn that he knew about the accident, and maybe he never let on just how closely he’d followed it or how long he had planned to rescue them. But Tinka was pointing to the photo of Wylie’s dad from his wedding day.

  “Yeah,” Wylie replied slowly. “Has Micah told you about our parents?”

  “Gregory is your dad,” Tinka responded.

  “I know, it’s weird. Why would Phinn do this much research on someone’s parents before he brought them here?”

  “You’re not understanding. Your dad lived here.”

  Wylie laughed. “Nice try, Tinka, but I’m not falling for that.”

  “I’m not making this up.” Her hand lingered on the photo. “Gregory. Sweet, lovely Gregory. Stubborn as hell and loyal to a fault.”


  “My dad’s from upstate New York.”

  “No, Wylie. He was one of the kids brought over with the rest of us. Your dad grew up right here on the island. His last name wasn’t Dalton then. I guess he made that name up, hoping Phinn would never find him.”

  Wylie had only witnessed her father cry once. It had been during a family trip upstate, to where he said he’d been raised. They’d parked the car in front of a small house on a street lined with maple trees, and her dad announced they were looking at his childhood home. Wylie remembered how his voice had quivered and his eyes had welled up when he’d looked at the small white Victorian with a wraparound porch and a bright red door. She’d thought the tears were for her grandparents, who had died in a car accident long before Wylie was born.

  But none of that had been true.

  A sharp pain flooded Wylie’s skull. The room appeared to be spinning. Her legs suddenly felt like wet noodles as they wobbled beneath her. Tinka pulled out a stool.

  “You should sit down.”

  Wylie eased herself onto it. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she announced.

  “Just put your head between your legs for a minute. You’ll feel better.” Tinka rubbed Wylie’s back as she knelt down to stop herself from passing out.

  The printouts dated all the way back to the mid-nineties. There were articles on Gregory from the Fordham Observer, the paper at his alma mater, reporting on his internship at a prestigious bank. There was a faded wedding announcement for Gregory and Maura in the New York Times. Wylie had been just a kid when her dad was featured in Forbes Magazine, but the interview was pinned to the wall. And then the focus of the articles shifted from Wylie’s dad to his children. They were mostly fluff pieces from their high school paper: an article on Joshua’s campaign for class president, another about Wylie’s cooking channel on YouTube, and a few comic strips created by Micah, followed by a series of articles from real publications on Joshua’s trial.

  “Even if he was a hundred years old, I would still recognize him,” Tinka said, pointing to a photo of her dad on the wall. “Your brothers don’t look anything like him.”

  “They look more like my mom. He and Joshua share a lot of facial expressions and gestures, but you’d have to spend a lot of time with both of them to notice. People say I’m the perfect combination of both my parents.”

  The aching in Wylie’s head only got worse as she watched Tinka skim through the clippings, but she didn’t feel like she was going to faint anymore. She sat up straight and let out a shaky exhale.

  “Go ahead,” Wylie said to Tinka. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

  “Your father is the only person who’s ever broken Phinn’s heart.”

  Wylie did her best to listen as Tinka recounted an entire history about her dad that was not the one she’d been told her whole life. Gregory’s parents may have lived upstate at some point, but his dad (also known as Wylie’s grandfather) was drafted to Vietnam and refused to go to war. Tinka explained that Phinn’s parents and several other couples sailed away together to dodge the draft. It was the same story Phinn had told Wylie and her brothers their very first night on the island. But Phinn had left out one tiny detail: Wylie’s grandparents and father were among the families on that boat. Gregory and Phinn were the two oldest kids making the journey, and according to Tinka, they were as close as brothers. Gregory looked up to Phinn, especially once their parents died and the kids were left to fend for themselves. Wylie’s grandparents weren’t killed in a car crash. They died on the island. Wylie was too afraid to ask how.

  “Your dad never questioned Phinn. Gregory had complete faith in every decision Phinn made for the rest of us,” Tinka explained. “It was actually kind of like the dynamic between Phinn and Joshua now.”

  “So what happened?” Wylie asked. She wondered what her dad had done to get himself exiled.

  “What happened is what always happens. A girl got between them.” Tinka seemed to shake off a memory as she drew the curtain closed.

  “Who?”

  Tinka covered her face with her hands. “Me.”

  Wylie gripped her stomach, then placed her head back between her legs. It would be a miracle if she got through this conversation without puking or fainting. She took a deep inhale through her nose and breathed out through her mouth.

  “You dated my dad.” A part of her wished she’d never set foot in this bungalow and could have remained in a state of blissful ignorance.

  “Oh, God. Micah’s never going to look at me the same way again, is he?” Tinka asked, her voice going up an octave.

  “I don’t know. This changes everything.”

  “I hate Phinn,” Tinka mumbled, her tone cold. “How could he do this?”

  “Finish the story,” Wylie said. She didn’t have it in her to cry or scream or throw things. All she felt now was numb.

  Tinka collected herself, then continued. “Gregory was the smart choice and Phinn wasn’t. Believe me, I’ve tried to turn off my feelings for Phinn for years. And for a while, it was working. I was happy with someone else. Phinn had made it clear he only wanted a friendship with me, so I moved on. But he didn’t like that either. It was okay for him to not want me, but it wasn’t okay for me to stop wanting him. So one night, I was supposed to camp out in the parvaz field with Gregory, but Phinn convinced me to go to the beach with him. He brought a bottle of wine he’d smuggled from the mainland. He seemed so interested in me. I kept thinking, I need to leave to meet Gregory, but one thing led to another and I stayed. And your—Gregory found us. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He was devastated.”

  There were no baby pictures of her dad. The only photos she’d ever seen of him were from his college years. He’d told them a flood in the basement had destroyed all his childhood photographs.

  Tinka continued. “Gregory knew the only way he could hurt Phinn as badly as he had been hurt was by leaving. So that’s what he did. He’s the only person who’s ever left the island without being forced to. Phinn was furious. He promised that one day he’d get his revenge.”

  “And that’s what I am? Revenge?”

  Keg stands at the party in the Hamptons. Flying around New York with some mysterious stranger. Convincing her brothers they’d be far better off living on some twisted island. Wylie had to find a way to right her wrongs. She would get her brothers, and they would go home.

  “Look. It doesn’t always matter why he brings people here,” Tinka said, trying to soften the blow. “For all its problems, it’s still the most amazing place you’ll ever live. I bet there hasn’t been a day since he left that Gregory hasn’t missed it.”

  Wylie couldn’t picture a younger version of her dad living here. What was he like when he was her age? Did he spend his days whizzing above the island? Had they both jumped off the same waterfall and swum in the same lagoon? Did he like to dig his heels into the same warm sands?

  “Everything he told me was a lie.” It wasn’t until after the words came out that she realized she wasn’t sure if she was referring to Phinn or her father.

  “He loves you,” Tinka conceded. “I don’t think that was part of the act.”

  “I don’t care,” Wylie answered.

  The warning bell rang. The sound was faint from inside the secret bungalow, but they both heard it.

  “We have fifteen minutes to get to the clinic. We’d better hurry,” Tinka said, defeated.

  “Screw that,” Wylie replied, feeling around the walls for the hidden door. “I am done following Phinn’s rules.”

  With the fear of Hopper looming over their heads, Wylie had made a habit of traveling with parvaz flowers in her pocket, in case she needed to take a quick flight. The ones she’d been carrying for the past couple of days had started to wilt.

  Wylie didn’t want Tinka to relapse on parvaz, but they couldn’t lose time hiking bac
k to the Clearing.

  “Put your arms around my neck and I’ll fly us both there,” Wylie ordered.

  Tinka bit her lip and rolled her eyes, but did as she was told.

  The sight of Wylie landing in the Clearing with Tinka on her back was enough to grab everyone’s attention. There were remnants of dried mud in Wylie’s hair and in her clothes, making her look just as crazed on the outside as she was feeling on the inside. Some of the girls had already headed to the clinic, but most of the locals were scattered around the lagoon. Good, Wylie thought. She wanted everyone to witness what was about to happen. Micah was the most surprised to see Tinka out of her bungalow and with his sister. Joshua didn’t bother to acknowledge them, still upset with Wylie for interfering in his work life.

  “What’s going on here?” Phinn asked, even more chipper than usual.

  He looked so different to Wylie now. The mouth full of crooked teeth she’d once found endearing now seemed almost repulsive. His auburn locks seemed dirty and rusted. And his chin with its little bits of red stubble looked like a sad version of a child trying to grow a beard. Tinka’s warning echoed through her head on repeat. Be careful, she had said. He has the power to destroy you.

  Only if I let him, Wylie thought.

  She walked up to Phinn. “I know the truth,” she said flatly.

  “About what?” he asked, still smiling.

  “About why you brought me here.” She placed her hands on his chest and shoved him against a tree.

  Phinn’s fan club gasped and shrieked on his behalf. Joshua didn’t drag her away this time or ask her what the hell she was doing. He just shook his head disapprovingly, as if to say, Typical Wylie. She expected Phinn to go into a rage or maybe even shove her back, but he just looked at her like a wounded bird.

  “I was revenge,” she said, her voice controlled. She wanted so badly to get through this without crying.

  “What?” Phinn asked.

  “I was revenge,” she said, louder this time. “And so were my brothers. You tricked all three of us.” She turned from him to address the crowd. “I know you were all wondering why Phinn brought us here. Why did he like me so much? Why did he make my brother, a guy he barely even knew, his chief of staff? I finally know the truth.”