Sanctuary

by Nora Roberts

  echoed like a gunshot. It would be easier to walk away, she thought. Just turn around and go back into the house and leave Lexy to find her own way to the campground.

  Damned if she was going to take the easy way.

  “Ginny’s my friend too, and I haven’t seen Kirby in years.” Leaving it at that, she circled around to the driver’s side, climbed behind the wheel, and waited.

  The pleasant anticipation she’d felt when Brian had relayed Kirby’s invitation had disappeared, leaving a churning pit in her stomach. But she was determined to follow through, not to be chased away by her sister’s bitchiness.

  She was bound to have a miserable time now, but by God she was going. And so, she thought when her sister slammed in beside her, was Lexy.

  “Seat belt,” Jo ordered, and Lexy let out an exasperated huff of breath as she strapped in. “Listen, why don’t we just get drunk and pretend we can tolerate each other for one night? An actress of your astonishing range shouldn’t have any trouble with that.”

  Lexy cocked her head, aimed a brilliant smile. “Fuck you, sister dear.”

  “There you go.” Jo started the engine, reaching for a cigarette out of habit the minute it turned over.

  “Would you not smoke in the car?”

  Jo punched in the lighter. “My car.”

  She headed north, her tires singing musically on the shell road. The air rushing in the windows was a beautiful balm. She used it to soothe her raw nerves and made no complaint when Lexy turned the stereo up full blast. Loud music meant no conversation, and no conversation meant no arguments. At least for the drive to camp.

  She drove fast, the memory of every curve in the road coming back to her. That too, soothed. So little had changed. Dark still fell quickly here, and the night brought the sounds of wind and sea that made the island seem a huge place to her. A world where the tides ruled dependably.

  She remembered driving fast along this road with the wind rushing through her hair and the radio screaming. Lexy had been beside her then too.

  The spring before Jo had left the island, a soft, fragrant spring. She would have been eighteen then, she remembered, and Lexy just fifteen. They’d been giggling, and there’d been the best part of a quart of Ernest and Julio between them to help the mood along. Cousin Kate had been visiting her sister in Atlanta, so there’d been no one to wonder where two teenage girls had gone off to.

  There had been freedom and foolishness, and a connection, Jo thought, that they’d lost somewhere along the way. The island remained as it was, always. But those two young girls were gone.

  “How’s Giff?” Jo heard herself ask.

  “How should I know?”

  Jo shrugged. Even all those years back, Giff had had his eye on Lexy. And even all those years back, Lexy had known it. Jo simply wondered if that had stayed constant. “I haven’t seen him since I’ve been back. I heard he was doing carpentry and whatnot.”

  “He’s a jerk. I don’t pay any attention to what he’s doing.” Lexy scowled out the window as she remembered the way he’d kissed her brainless. “I’m not interested in island boys. I like men.” She turned back, shot a challenging look. “Men with style and money.”

  “Know any?”

  “Quite a few, actually.” Lexy hooked an arm out the window, easing into a pose of casual sophistication. “New York’s bursting with them. I like a man who knows his way around. Our Yankee, for example.”

  Jo felt her spine stiffen, deliberately relaxed it. “Our Yankee?”

  “Nathan Delaney. He has the look of a man who knows his way around ... women. I’d say he’s exactly my type. Rich.”

  “Why do you think he’s rich?”

  “He can afford a six-month vacation. An architect with his own company has to have financial substance. He’s traveled. Men who’ve traveled know how to show a woman interesting pieces of the world. He’s divorced. Divorced men appreciate an amiable woman.”

  “Done your research, haven’t you, Lex.”

  “Sure.” She stretched luxuriously. “Yes, indeedy, I’d say Nathan Delaney is just my type. He should keep me from being bored brainless for the next little while.”

  “Until you can get back to New York,” Jo put in. “Shift hunting grounds.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Interesting.” Jo’s headlights splashed the discreet sign for Heron Campground. She cut her speed and took the turn off Shell Road into a land of sloughs and marsh grass. “I always figured you thought more of yourself than that.”

  “You have no idea what I think about anything, including myself.”

  “Apparently not.”

  They fell into a humming silence disturbed only by the shrill peeping of frogs. At a sharp cracking sound, Jo shuddered involuntarily. It was the unmistakable sound of a gator crunching a turtle between its jaws. She thought she understood exactly what that turtle felt in those last seconds of life. The sensation of being helplessly trapped by something large and feral and hungry.

  Because her fingers trembled, she gripped the wheel tighter. She hadn’t been consumed, she reminded herself. She’d escaped, she’d bought some time. She was still in control.

  But the anxiety attack was pinching away at her with insistent little fingers. She made herself breathe in, breathe out, slow, normal. God, just be normal. She turned the radio off.

  She passed the little check-in booth, empty now as the sun had set, and concentrated on winding her way through the chain of small lakes. Lights flickered here and there from campfires. Ghost music floated out of radios, then vanished. Where the hillocks of grass parted, she could see the delicate white glow of lily pads in the moonlight.

  She would walk back, she told herself, take pictures, focus on the silence and the emptiness. On being alone. On being safe.

  “There’s Kirby’s car.”

  Too much roaring in the ears, Jo thought, and forced out another breath. “What?”

  “The snazzy little convertible there. That’s Kirby’s. Just park behind it.”

  “Right.” Jo maneuvered the Land Rover into position and found when she cut the engine that the air was full of sound. The humming and peeping and rustling of the little world hidden behind the dunes and beyond the edge of the forest. It was ripe with scent as well, water and fish and damp vegetation.

  She climbed out of the car, relieved to step into so much life.

  “Jo Ellen!”

  Kirby dashed out of the dark and grabbed Jo in a hard hug. Quick, spontaneous embraces always caught Jo off guard. Before she could steady herself, Kirby was pulling back, her hands still firm on Jo’s arms, her smile huge and delighted.

  “I’m so glad you came! I’m so glad to see you! Oh, we have a million years to catch up on. Hey, Lexy. Let’s get your gear and pop a couple of tops.”

  “She brought wine,” Lexy said, pulling open the cargo door.

  “Great, we’ll pop some corks too, then. We’ve got a mountain of junk food to go with it. We’ll be sick as dogs by midnight.” Chattering all the way, Kirby dragged Jo to the back of the Land Rover. “Good thing I’m a doctor. What’s this?” She dived into the grocery bag. “Pâté. You got pâté?”

  “I nagged Brian,” Jo managed to say.

  “Good thinking.” Kirby hefted the food bag, then hooked Lexy’s six-pack. “I’ve got these. Ginny’s getting the fire going. Need a hand with the rest?”

  “We can get it.” Jo shouldered her camera bag, tucked her bedroll under one arm, and clinked the bottles of wine together. “I’m sorry about your grandmother, Kirby.”

  “Thanks. She lived a long life, exactly as she wanted to. We should all be that smart. Here, Lexy, I can get that bag.” Kirby beamed at both of them, deciding she’d just about cut the edge off the tension that had been snarling in the air when they’d arrived. “Christ, I’m starving. I missed dinner.”

  Lexy slammed the rear door shut. “Let’s go, then. I want a beer.”

  “Shit, my flashlight’s in my back
pocket.” Kirby turned, angled a hip. “Can you get it?” she asked Jo.

  With a little shifting and some flexible use of fingers, Jo pried it out and managed to switch it on. They headed down the narrow path single file.

  Site twelve was already set up and organized, a cheerful fire burning bright in a circle of raked sand. Ginny had her Coleman lantern on low and an ice chest filled. She sat on it, eating from a bag of chips and drinking a beer.

  “There she is.” Ginny lifted the beer can in toast. “Hey, Jo Ellen Hathaway. Welcome home.”

  Jo dumped her bedroll and grinned. For the first time, she felt home. And felt welcome. “Thanks.”

  “A doctor.” Jo sat cross-legged by the campfire, sipping Chardonnay from a plastic glass. One bottle was already nose down in the sand. “I can’t imagine it. When we were kids, you always talked about being an archaeologist or something, a female Indiana Jones, exploring the world.”

  “I decided to explore anatomy instead.” Comfortably drunk, Kirby spread more of Brian’s excellent duck pâté on a Ritz cracker. “And I like it.”

  “We all know about your work, Jo, but is there someone special in your life?” Kirby asked, trying to steer the conversation in Jo’s direction.

  “No. You?”

  “I’ve been working on your brother, but he isn’t cooperating.”

  “Brian.” Jo choked on her wine, sucked in air. “Brian?” she repeated.

  “He’s single, attractive, intelligent.” Kirby licked her thumb. “He makes great pâté. Why not Brian?”

  “I don’t know. He’s ...” Jo gestured widely. “Brian.”

  “He pretends to ignore her.” Lexy sat up and reached for the pâté herself. “But he doesn’t.”

  “He doesn’t?” Kirby looked over, eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

  “An actor has to observe people, their role playing.” Lexy waved a hand airily. “You make him nervous, which irritates him. Which means you irritate him because he notices you.”

  “Really?” Though her head was spinning, Kirby finished off her wine and poured another glass. “Has he said anything about me? Does he—Wait.” She held up a hand and rolled her eyes. “This is so high school. Forget I asked.”

  “The less Brian says about anything, the more it’s on his mind,” Lexy told her. “He hardly ever mentions your name.”

  “Really?” Kirby said again and began to perk up. “Is that so? Well, well. Maybe I’ll give him another chance after all.”

  She blinked as a light flashed in her eyes. “What’s that for?” she demanded as Jo lowered her camera.

  “You looked so damn smug. Shift over closer to Lex, Ginny. Let me get the three of you.”

  “Here she goes,” Lexy muttered, but she flipped her hair back and posed nevertheless.

  It was rare for her to take portraits, even candid ones. Jo indulged herself, letting them mug or preen for the camera, framing them in, adjusting the angle, letting the burst of light from her strobe flash illuminate them.

  They were beautiful, she realized, each in her own unique fashion. Ginny, with her bottle-blonde frizz and wide-open smile; Lexy, so self-aware and sulky; Kirby, carelessly confident and classy.

  They were hers, Jo thought. Each one of them, for different reasons, was part of her. She’d forgotten that for too long.

  Her vision blurred before she knew her eyes had flooded with tears. “I’ve missed you all. I’ve missed you so much.” She set the camera aside hastily, then rose from her crouch. “I’ve got to pee.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Kirby murmured as Jo rushed out of the clearing. She snagged a flashlight and hurried after. “Jo. Hey.” She had to double her pace to catch up, grab Jo’s arm. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “My bladder’s full. As a doctor, you should recognize the symptom.”

  When Jo started to turn, Kirby simply tightened her grip. “Honey, I’m asking as your friend, and as a doctor. Granny would have said you look peaked. I can tell from this brief session that you’re run-down and stressed out. Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Jo pressed a hand to her eyes because they wanted to fill up again. “I can’t talk about it. I just need some space.”

  “Okay.” Trust always had to be gained by degrees, Kirby thought. “Will you come and see me? Let me give you a physical?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll think about it.” Jo steadied herself and managed a smile. “There is one thing I can tell you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got to pee.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Chuckling, Kirby aimed the light on the path. “You go running out of camp without a light, you could end up gator bait.” Cautious, Kirby scanned the thick vegetation fringing the near pond.

  “I think I could walk this island blind. It stays with you. I missed it more than I realized, Kirby, but I still feel like a stranger here. It’s a shaky line to walk.”

  “You haven’t been home two weeks. Give yourself that time you said you need.”

  “I’m trying. Me first,” Jo said and ducked into the little outhouse.

  Kirby started to laugh, then found herself shuddering. The minute Jo closed the door she felt completely alone, completely exposed. The sounds of the slough seemed to rush toward her, over her. Rustles and calls and plops. Clouds drifted slyly over the moon and had her gripping her flashlight in both hands.

  Ridiculous, she told herself. It was just a leftover reaction to her experience in the woods that afternoon. She was hardly alone. There were campsites pocketed all through the area. She could even see the flicker of lights from lanterns and fires. And Jo was only a single wooden door away.

  There was nothing to be frightened of, she reminded herself. There was nothing and no one on the island that meant her any harm.

  And she nearly whimpered with relief when Jo stepped out again.

  “You’re up,” Jo told her, still buttoning her jeans. “Take the flash. I nearly fell in. It’s black as death in there, and nearly as atmospheric.”

  “We could have walked over to the main toilets.”

  “I wouldn’t have needed them by the time I got there.”

  “Good point. Wait for me, okay?”

  Jo hummed assent and leaned back against the door. Then almost immediately straightened when she heard footsteps padding softly to her right. She tensed, told herself that the reaction was a by-product of city living, and watched a light bob closer.

  “Hello, there.” The male voice was low and pleasant.

  She ordered herself to relax. “Hello. We’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

  “No problem. I was just taking a little moonlight walk before I turned in. I’m over at site ten.” He took a few steps closer but stayed in the shadows. “Beautiful night. Beautiful spot. I never expected to see a beautiful woman.”

  “You never know what you’ll see on the island.” Jo squinted as the light from his lantern reflected into her eyes. “That’s part of its charm.”

  “It certainly is. And I’m enjoying every bit of it. An adventure in every step, don’t you think? The anticipation of what’s to come. I’m a fan of ... anticipation.”

  No, she realized, his voice wasn’t pleasant. It was like syrup—too sweet, too thick, and it carried that exaggerated drawl that Yankees insultingly believed mimicked the South.

  “Then I’m sure you won’t be disappointed in what Desire has to offer.”

  “From where I’m standing, the offerings are perfect.”

  If she’d had the flashlight, she would have abandoned manners and shined it in his face. It was the voice coming out of the dark, she told herself, that made it seem so eerie and dangerous. When the door creaked beside her, she turned quickly and reached for Kirby’s hand before Kirby had stepped all the way out.

  “We’ve got company,” Jo said, annoyed that her voice was too high and too bright. “This is a popular spot tonight. Number ten was jus
t passing through.”

  But when she looked back, raising Kirby’s hand that held the flash, there was no one there. With a panicked sound in her throat, Jo grabbed the flashlight and waved it frantically over the dark grass and trees.

  “He was here. There was someone here. I didn’t imagine it. I didn’t.”

  “All right.” Gently, Kirby laid a hand on Jo’s shoulder,