by Cassia Leo
“I suspected he had a hand in his parents’ deaths all those years ago, and the Sheriff thinks so, too.”
“Well, he certainly had murder on the brain tonight,” Oz concluded. He turned to look at Jon. “If Ana wakes up before help arrives, I don’t want her to know about what happened with Alex.”
Jon started at him, not understanding.
“She’s probably going to blame herself already for what happened tonight, but I don’t want her to blame herself for Alex. I did it. That was my choice, and I’d do it again.”
“So we tell her…”
“That we took care of it. And leave it at that.”
Jon had so many questions, as he was sure Oz did, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask any of them. The situation was still so tenuous, and they were a long way from small talk and story time.
When they had left the two patients lying in the dining room, Jonathan had found himself looking back over his shoulder, but it was not his brother he looked at. His stomach was in knots, a feeling quite unfamiliar to him, and he had felt it earlier, before she had woken up. He felt it the moment she brought that stray animal to him, and again in the shower. It wasn’t until he turned to look over his shoulder that he connected those feelings together.
No. It doesn’t matter if you have these feelings. She could be your soul mate, and it wouldn’t matter, because your brother has finally found something other than his own stubbornness and the sea that makes him happy. You know you are the reason he has stayed on this island. He will not admit it, but you know. You will not take this from him.
They stepped back through the door and found Nicolas curled up next to Ana. Jonathan’s heart stopped for a moment until he could see both Finn, and Ana, were breathing, and only then he was able to step into the room.
“I tried to check their pulses, but I don’t know what is normal and what isn’t. They didn’t stop breathing though, so that must be a good sign,” Nicolas said lightly, a half-hearted jest.
“Thanks,” Jon acknowledged and dismissed Nicolas with a hand. Kneeling by Ana’s side, and then Finn’s, he took both their vitals, finding nothing out of the ordinary. After a deeper search of his father’s office before they’d ventured outside, he found some morphine, and it was the only relief he had been able to give them for the pain.
“We need to find a way off this island, quickly,” Jonathan pressed, as he faced the other two men, who were strangers before tonight but now were bonded to him in a way even he didn’t understand yet. “They both need proper medical attention. I’ve done all I can for them.”
“Is there a hospital on the island?” Oz asked.
“No,” he said. “Only the stuff I have here, from my father’s old... clinic. We need to get to the mainland to get them the right help.”
“Does your phone work?” Nicolas wondered. “Or was that more lies from Alex?” He seemed to have a bit of his spark back.
“It did for a few days, but the lines have been down for nearly a week. Internet is down, too, and the nearest radio is at the ferry station a mile west.”
“What about that big thing outside?” Oz asked, pointing toward the snowcat.
“I’m going to try and get it to the ferry station, and see if their radios are up,” Jon replied, suppressing his annoyance at having to repeat the plan.
“No, Jon. I mean, doesn’t that thing have a radio?”
Jon’s hopes rose. How could he not have thought of this on his own? The situation has been too much. I’m not thinking clearly. There should be a working radio, and perhaps they could reach the Coast Guard. If not, he could still take the snowcat down to the ferry terminal and try the radios there. But if this worked, it would be much quicker.
Before Jon could say anything, Oz asked Nicolas to join him to see if the radio was functional.
As the door clapped behind them, Jon realized he was alone for the first time since the world had come crashing down around their heads.
What would he do if Finn died? Finn was more than his brother. He was his anchor. Jon had long believed he needed no one, but was allowed the luxury of such nonsensical thoughts because Finn was at his side. Finn protected Jon, bringing him closer to humanity.
Jon didn’t understand the nature of Finn and Ana’s relationship. How could they have such a bond? He hadn’t ever seen them together, and Finn had hardly mentioned her until the night she ended up half-dead on their beachfront. How could that kind of love have grown while Ana was sleeping? He remembered Finn spending every waking moment by her side, talking to her, reading to her. Could she have known? How could you love someone so fast?
He wished he knew, because that feeling was back as he watched her, and he realized with both guilt (for Finn) and resentment (for himself) that he should not have pushed her out that night she came to his office with Cocoa. If he had opened his eyes he might have seen her, really seen her for who she was: someone like him, his female equivalent. His habitual attitude closed out one who might not only accept but understand him. Had he been open to her, he might have finally found something to give his life the meaning he pretended to not crave.
She was The One. The problem was, Finn thought she was The One, too. And he wouldn’t keep holding his little brother back from happiness.
***
61- AUGUSTUS
Augustus was displeased with the hospital staff. They were properly courteous and attentive—they visited Ana regularly and responded quickly when called—but he did not feel they were nearly experienced enough. She had been in the hospital for five days, and they were still not ready to release her. And now they were annoyed with him. He had thought they would be pleased he was willing to send for doctors from New Orleans to take over.
He resisted the urge to tell them her sleeping was normal, that she was healing herself. He was the only person who knew how to care for her in such a state.
Your daughter and her friend should both be dead, the doctor said. It’s a miracle. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
Yes, thought Augustus, I’ve seen a miracle or two in my time.
When Nicolas had called him from the hospital, Augustus was already making arrangements. He had traveled north with the family doctor, and their lawyer was also staying nearby. His niece, Adrienne, was a complete mess, so his first order of business upon arrival had been to send Oz promptly back home. The police wanted Oz to stay longer, but Augustus had seen to it that Oz was released and there would be no further questioning in Maine.
Now it was only Augustus and Nicolas standing vigil in her room… and occasionally that tall, quiet fellow, Jonathan. The nurse said he had medical experience, but wasn’t a doctor.
“Tell me, what kind of person has ‘medical experience’ but is not a doctor?” Augustus had demanded.
“The kind that is as unique and different as Jonathan St. Andrews,” she simply said. “But he saved your daughter’s life, so I’d say his ‘medical experience’ came in handy.”
This was true. If not for this odd, quiet man, Ana might not have survived long enough to heal herself. Although, if not for him, she might also not be in this situation.
Oz had laid the entire story out, with Nicolas, and Jon backing him up. Even with their matching accounts, the Portland police had been skeptical that the middle-aged overseer was capable of all they were suggesting. Then the sheriff of Summer Island had stepped in, insisting that Alex Whitman had long been on his radar for several heinous crimes, and he was not the least bit surprised. This was followed by Sheriff Horn’s ceremonious visit to Alex’s house, where a room was found, filled with peculiar artifacts and articles about a number of women who had died mysteriously. Ayuh, I knew it all along, the portly sheriff had insisted.
“In that case, I will look for you to assume culpability for the injuries inflicted upon my daughter,” Augustus snapped, promptly shutting the sheriff’s prideful boasting.
One evening, Jonathan had walked in. Augustus felt distrust for him, mainly originating from doub
t of their story. Whatever had actually transpired, he had saved Ana, and for that reason alone, Augustus did not ban him from visiting.
The man’s brother, Finn, had not woken yet. Ana had been in and out of consciousness, but Augustus was not worried. This was her body’s healing process, and she was long past the point of mortal concern.
“We should really consider moving them into the same room,” Jon tentatively suggested.
Augustus rejected the idea. If the boy was the reason she had neglected her family, then he wouldn’t encourage or reward their behavior.
When Augustus didn’t respond, Jon added, “They say she will be able to go home soon.”
“They say a lot of things,” Augustus said, venting a small measure of his ire, “but I have little confidence in the care she has received in this facility.”
“It was the best we could do under the circumstances,” Jon apologized. His hands were in his pockets, looking uncomfortable and out of place in the room. Augustus watched Jon gaze at Ana, and a disturbing realization came over him. Both brothers? For shame, Ana. I raised you better than this.
“Your brother is coming along, I assume.” Augustus was not eager for conversation, but he was at least skilled in finding words when he needed them. Conversing with someone you weren’t fond of was slightly less offensive than waiting in awkward silence with them.
“Not as well as we’d like,” Jonathan admitted. Augustus realized he hadn’t followed the other boy’s progress, but had naturally assumed he’d be doing well enough. “The infection has spread and they may need to operate again.”
“I’ll pray for his recovery,” Augustus dutifully responded. That’s what everyone said in the South. I’ll pray for your health, for your finances, for your children, for your new job. Augustus never said prayers, himself. He knew it was your duty to say you would, nonetheless.
“Thank you.” Jon sat on the other side of Ana’s bed. He pretended to look out the window, but Augustus was old, not blind. He could see the pain in Jon’s face as he watched her. “If you wanted to go stretch your legs or get a bite to eat, I could stay here for a bit,” Jon added.
And leave you alone with her? I think not. “Thank you, but Nicolas is tending to my dinner and I got a walk in earlier.”
Jonathan nodded as if to say, very well. He stood to leave, but Augustus did not miss him graze her arm with his hand and the small, sad smile on his face. Augustus never missed much. He realized there was far more to the story with these two. “Please, reconsider the request to move them together. They might both heal faster,” Jon speculated. The look he gave him made Augustus wonder how much Jon St. Andrews knew about the Deschanels.
“Tell me exactly, why is it you are with moving them together, when you are clearly in love with my daughter yourself?”
Augustus had taken Jonathan off-guard with that. The boy first blushed, then pursed his lips, looking almost angry. “With all due respect, Ana is a great girl. But I am not in love with her.”
“With all due respect, yes, you are.”
Jonathan’s face showed his range of emotions quite clearly. Augustus had a lot of experience reading people, and he read a tremendous amount of conflict in the boy. Jonathan spoke slowly, carefully selecting his words. “She is not mine to love.”
“My daughter belongs to no one,” Augustus said evenly. “Not you, not your brother.” Not even me.
“I understand, but she has made her choice. I can and will respect that.”
Augustus could not help feeling a twinge of pitiful admiration for the boy. His concern for Ana was apparent since the day Augustus had arrived, and yet he cared enough for her that he would give her up for the happiness of another. That was an admirable trait. Selflessness was so rare these days. “Very well, then. I’ll have them moved together, if the doctors will allow it.”
“Thank you,” Jonathan said quietly, and left.
***
62- ANA
It had been a week since they released Ana, but she had not left the hospital. Her father was angry with her, but she could live with that. He did not understand why she wouldn’t return home to New Orleans. He had cautioned her that Finn may have a lengthy recovery. And now he had slipped into a coma. She was angry that no one had moved Finn into her room sooner, but how could she tell people that she might have healed him?
“He matters to me,” is all she would say. Her father shook his head so much over the matter she thought it might fall clean off his shoulders.
“He might never come out of that bed. You have a life to lead, Anasofiya. You have a future think of. You hardly know that boy,” he alternately cajoled and bullied, until he was near blue in the face. “We both know your abilities are... rather one-sided.”
“I healed him once before,” she declared boldly. “He might be dead if not for me.”
“He’s not your responsibility. Or your future.”
“My future is here. At least for now,” Ana insisted. “This is what I need to do.” I know you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to. I’ve done a lot of things... terrible things... because I didn’t understand myself. Now I have a chance to put that all behind me. I care deeply for Finn, and when I was in a coma he never left my side. I will not repay that kindness by leaving him now. I can save him. I have saved him. And that means something.
But she would never say all of that to her father, ever.
“Your choices are entirely illogical,” her father capitulated. “I will not pretend I agree with them. But you are thirty years old, and I am under no illusion I have any authority in the matter.”
And so he had left. Not necessarily on bad terms, but there would need to be some healing there, for both of them. Ana loved her father very much. If he had raised her with more warmth, she might have thrown herself into his arms and told him as much. Instead, she took his hands in hers, squeezed, then let him go.
She still had trouble wrapping her head around the events of that night. Especially Alex’s transformation. It was fuzzy and surreal, as if recalling a dream from long ago. She knew one day it would hit her, and that she would be traumatized all over again, but she was grateful for some relief now.
No one would tell her what happened to Alex. Jon would only say, “We took care of it,” but refused to elaborate. A part of her knew. The other part of her was glad not to know.
At least her father had agreed to fund the lighthouse restoration. Her request had not been fueled by her care for Alex, as she had once envisioned, but her desire to give the island community some needed closure.
Seeing Nicolas and Oz appear at the house in their moment of need had been strangest of all. She should have known Nicolas would not sit back idly without hearing from her, but seeing him was no less shocking. And Oz, why had he come? Guilt?
Oz stopped by her room before he left to go back to New Orleans.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, taking a seat near the bed. So casual… as if there wasn’t this sordid history between us.
“You know me. Good as new.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Oz said, distantly. Ana sensed there were things he wanted to say.
“Thank you for coming out,” she offered. “I appreciate what you did. You didn’t have to.”
“I did have to,” he asserted. He looked at her, his green eyes large, and sad. “I’m sorry, for everything. I didn’t mean for things to end up like this.”
“We never do, Oz. But all we can do is try to move forward. And there’s nothing to be gained from dwelling on mistakes.”
He nodded, but there was more behind his eyes. “I care deeply for you, Ana. I love you. I always have, so I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or that there was something wrong with you. We all have our demons.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You’ll always be a part of me. I guess I needed you to know that.” His voice was hoarse. He got up from the chair
and leaned over her, his lips brushing hers in the briefest of kisses. Then, he stood and moved toward the door.
Pausing with a sigh, he looked at her one last time. “You should know that Nicolas knows about us now. I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. If it helps, I think he blames me.” Placing one hand to his lips, he added, “Heal, Ana.”
Then, Oz bowed his head and left, leaving her staring at the door in shocked silence.
For a week, Ana had sat by Finn’s bedside. She had read to him, talked to him, told him all the stories of her childhood. She did all of the things he had so selflessly done for her when she had been hurt. And she did not do them alone.
Jonathan had not left his brother’s side. When it was time to eat, they would rotate whose turn it was to go get food. They found ways to ensure that Finn was never alone. The hospital had brought in a couple of fold out chairs for them to sleep in. Finn was moved into a larger, more private room, once the worst of the immediate concerns were resolved.
And still, Nicolas didn’t visit. You should know that Nicolas knows about us now. The words haunted her, and hung heavy over her heart. He should have been my first visitor. He should have been here the moment I woke up.
Jon told her that Nicolas hadn’t left for New Orleans yet. That he was harassing the doctors regularly, and generally being obnoxious. But he had not come in to see Ana.
She was fooling herself to believe she ever intended to tell him about what happened with Oz. It was a lovely thought, that she would come clean one day and clear the air. But deep down she knew it would never happen. Her advice that Oz take it to the grave was for her, too.
Ana should feel better with that heavy lie no longer between them, but instead she felt as if she had lost the only thing that ever mattered to her. Whatever else had come at her in life, there was always Nicolas, holding her hand, believing in her, understanding her, encouraging her. Loving her.
