by Amy M. Reade
“Giselle and I are going to be leaving soon. She wants to visit Vali and Leland, and there’s a book I’d like to borrow from you if that’s okay, Alex,” said Brandt.
“Of course.” Alex smiled weakly.
As he stood up, Giselle came over and linked her arm in his. “See you soon, Alex,” she said. They left and I took Brandt’s place next to Alex. She looked rather wan.
“I want you to lie down right here for a little while. I think you’ve been working too hard and you need some rest,” I told her firmly.
She didn’t resist. I helped her to lie down on the sofa and I covered her with a light blanket. Once she was comfortable, I went into the library. I wanted to be nearby if Alex should need anything. Brandt was there, leafing through a book. He looked up when I came in.
“Hi, Macy.”
“Hi, Brandt. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. I knew I’d be able to find this book in here. It’s a maritime history of these islands. I need it for a project at work. Alex and Forrest acquired lots of great books that are hard to find anywhere else in this area. Alex has mentioned before that she’d like to donate some of these books to a local library, but she just hasn’t had the time recently to go through everything.”
“I think that would be wonderful,” I told him.
“Is she resting?” he asked.
“Yes, for now. She’s a tough lady, though. I expect she’s not going to lie down for long. I hope I’m wrong—she’s been working too hard and she needs some rest.”
“I think it’s good for you to be here with her,” Brandt said. “She needs somebody whose only responsibility is to take care of her. It may be a little boring for you at times, but she needs this arrangement. When Vali was looking after her, she couldn’t do a good job simply because she had too much work to do.”
“Well, I’m enjoying Alex and my job here very much,” I said warmly. “Would you excuse me while I look in on her again?”
I left him and tiptoed softly into Alex’s sitting room. She was still lying on the sofa, but I was glad to see that her eyes were closed and her breathing was light and regular. She would be asleep soon. I turned off the lamp so the room was illuminated only by the flames dancing and crackling in the fireplace. Alex’s eyes fluttered open for a moment and she murmured, “I was going to join you in the dining room tonight.”
I smiled at her and whispered, “You rest now. You can eat with us in there tomorrow.” She nodded faintly and I went back to the library. Brandt was gone so I curled up in a chair for a few minutes. I wanted to wait until I was sure that Alex was sleeping before going upstairs to change my clothes for dinner. I looked around the room contentedly. Brandt was right; this arrangement did seem to suit Alex, and the quiet time that I was able to spend alone was just what I needed, too. I was growing quite fond of Alex, and she seemed to like and trust me as well.
When I was sure Alex was asleep, I started upstairs to change. I smiled inwardly—it was nice to hear that Alex had changed her mind about eating dinner in the dining room with the rest of us. As I mounted the stairs, the big front door flew open and Brandt stumbled in, thoroughly soaked. Rain ran in rivulets into his eyes and ears, and water puddled around his feet on the foyer floor.
“This is unbelievable!” he exclaimed. I ran to the kitchen in search of some towels for him. As I looked through a drawer under one of the kitchen windows, I could see the rain slamming against the glass. Suddenly there was a flash of light that lacerated the sky, followed by a terrific boom that made the house shudder. I found several towels and ran back to Brandt. As he mopped his face and head, he said in wonder, “I haven’t seen anything like this in a long time. There’s no way Giselle and I can get back to Cape Cartier while there’s thunder and lightning out there.”
I agreed and winced when lightning rent the darkness again and the thunder bellowed just beyond the front door. “You and Giselle need to stay here until the storm blows away.”
Brandt went off to change, explaining that he always kept a set of clothes at Summerplace. I went in search of Vali to tell her that Brandt and Giselle would be having dinner with us.
I found her and Giselle coming in the back door under cover of a big umbrella.
“Vali, would you mind setting a couple extra spots for dinner? Brandt and Giselle are staying for a while, until the storm lets up.”
Vali glared at me. “Giving orders now? Didn’t take you long to settle right in, did it?” she sneered.
“Aunt Vali, I’m sure Macy is just trying to be thoughtful.” Giselle looked as if the rain hadn’t touched her. Her clothes were dry, her makeup was perfect, and every hair was in place. She was again wearing a form-fitting top with tight jeans and stilettos. She looked a little out of place.
Vali rolled her eyes. I ignored her and went upstairs to change my clothes. When I came down again, I went into the dining room to find Stephan and Will as usual. Stephan offered me a hot buttered rum from a tray on the sideboard and I accepted gratefully. It tasted wonderful and seemed to ward off some of the chill from outdoors. Brandt and Giselle made their appearance just a few moments later. Brandt had changed his clothes and looked comfortable and dry. As they entered the dining room, Giselle took Brandt’s hand possessively and looked at me with a slight smile, almost triumphant. She certainly seems insecure, I thought.
Dinner was an uncomfortable affair. Vali served a creamy onion soup, followed by a fabulous roast of pork with autumn vegetables and homemade applesauce. During the meal, we talked lightly about the storm, which seemed to be letting up a bit; then Stephan regaled us with an unsettling story of being caught in a storm on a cruise ship. I was unpleasantly reminded of my own experience aboard a boat during a storm. After we were done with our main course, Vali came to clear the dishes. As she left the room Will looked at me and pointedly asked, “Speaking of stories about water, Macy, have you ever heard the story of our local pirate, William Johnston?”
“No,” I answered slowly. Something vaguely malicious in Will’s tone made me fear that another unnerving story was coming.
“No? Well, it’s a famous tale around here, and you can’t go home without hearing it. William Johnston was originally from Canada and a self-described patriot. He lived a good part of his life in northern New York and was a tavern keeper there. During the Canadian rebellion of 1838, there was a British ship called the Sir Robert Peel that was docked at Wellesley Island. You may have seen Wellesley Island on your way here.
“Anyway, under the cover of darkness one night, Johnston led a group of other patriots onto the Peel. They plundered the boat and forced all of her passengers ashore. Then they cut the boat loose from her moorings and set her on fire. The boat drifted down the river and finally ran aground at Rock Island, which is not too far from here. This had all been done in retaliation for a similar event that had taken place on the Niagara River sometime before.
“Both the U.S. and the British condemned Johnston and branded him an outlaw. He went into hiding. They put a bounty on him and they arrested several of the men that had been in his party on that fateful night. Prosecutors weren’t able to convict them, though.
“But here’s where it gets interesting. During the time that he was on the lam, legend has it that he hid in a cave underneath an island right near the scene of the crime. He had a faithful daughter who used to take a rowboat to visit him and bring him food. The place where he hid later came to be known as Devil’s Oven. I’ve seen it. It’s a small, rocky island with a fairly small opening above the waterline.
“I wonder what it must have been like for him to live in that cave for so long. So cold and dark and wet. Can you imagine what he must have felt as the water level rose and fell? Or when a storm blew up and the waves came crashing in around him?” Will looked at me with malice in his eyes. “Can’t you almost feel the water rising?” I felt the room growing smaller, as though the walls were pressing on me. I must have looked uncomfortable, because Wi
ll chuckled softly.
“To get on with it, Bill Johnston eventually tired of living in an underwater cave of sorts, so he arranged to have his son arrest him to get the five-hundred-dollar reward. He was tried and acquitted, and then rearrested. He escaped but gave himself up several months later. After spending six months in jail, he escaped again. A year or so later, with a petition for pardon in hand, he went to Washington and presented the petition to President Van Buren. Van Buren said no, so Johnston just waited ten days. By then President Harrison was in office, and he signed the pardon. Johnston returned to the Thousand Islands and spent a good deal of the rest of his life as the lighthouse keeper on Rock Island, where the Peel had run ashore.”
He looked at me again. “We’ll have to take you over to Rock Island to see where the old pirate spent much of his later life. And we’ll have to show you Devil’s Oven. I think you’ll be interested.” He smiled at me over the rim of his water glass as he raised it to his lips.
I shivered involuntarily. Why was he doing this? He seemed to be enjoying my discomfort. I didn’t want him to know he had unnerved me, so I looked at him squarely in the eyes and answered him. “I think you’re right. A trip to Rock Island and Devil’s Oven would be very interesting.”
“I heard Aunt Alex telling Stephan that you can’t swim. Is that true?” Will asked.
I stared at him for a moment. “Yes, that’s true. I never did learn how to swim.”
Giselle glanced at me, her eyes bright. “Oh? You don’t know how to swim, Macy? Then you must let me teach you. I used to swim competitively and I was quite good.” She smiled brightly. I was at a loss for words. The prospect of learning to swim under Giselle’s tutelage was unappealing, to say the least.
Stephan looked sternly from Will to Giselle and changed the subject. “Anyone for coffee? Vali makes magnificent coffee.”
I looked at Stephan gratefully. “Actually, I must go and check on Alex now,” I said, excusing myself. I left the room hastily.
When I tiptoed into Alex’s sitting room, she was sitting up on the sofa. She smiled at me wearily and waved me over to where she sat. I asked how she was feeling.
“I’m just tired, Macy,” she replied. “I think I’ll go to bed now, and I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” Surprisingly, she allowed me to help her into her nightgown. She got into bed and looked at me gratefully as she leaned back against her pillows. She sighed. “Macy, I’m so glad you’re here to help me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She patted my hand.
I was touched. “Thank you, Alex.” I smiled. On impulse, I leaned over and kissed her quickly on her soft, papery cheek. She closed her eyes and I turned off the light and left the room quietly.
When I went back into the foyer, I could hear the low murmur of voices from the dining room. I had no wish to return there, so I went up to my room, put on a jacket, and let myself quietly out the front door. The storm had passed, so there was no rain to contend with tonight. Keeping to the flagstone path, I walked slowly around the outside of Summerplace, listening contentedly to the night sounds of the island and the Saint Lawrence River. I could hear the low throb of humming insects against the soft background sound of the night breeze blowing through the tree branches. The water of the river moving slowly on its course to the Atlantic Ocean made a comforting sound, almost mesmerizing, and I loved it. It was so different from the noise of the neighborhood I had just left a few days before. On this peaceful island there were no wailing ambulances, no rumbling street cleaners, no cars honking incessantly. Here one lived in the company of nature and its soothing rhythms. In the short time I had been on the island I was already feeling some of my stress draining away. I felt I could now allow the memory of my parents to surface without having to thrust the grief aside. It helped knowing that Alex had experienced grief too.
As I walked around Summerplace, I saw a glimmer of light shining through the closed dining room drapes. Brandt and Giselle would probably be leaving soon since it wasn’t raining anymore. Giselle undoubtedly had to get up early in the morning for work and would want to be in bed at a decent hour. It was also getting chilly, so I pulled my jacket tighter around me and headed for the front door.
I went up to my room without meeting anyone. I was getting tired, so I didn’t bother to build a fire. I just crawled between the covers and was almost asleep when I heard a faint knock at my door. Concerned that Alex was ill, I jumped out of bed and went quickly to open the door.
Will was standing there, still dressed in his dinner attire. As usual, he looked debonair and handsome. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, Macy, but I wanted to talk to you alone. May I come in?” he asked politely.
Still thinking that he might be here with information about Alex, I let him in. He sat down in one of the chairs before the cold fireplace and motioned for me to sit down too. I was getting impatient. “Is Alex all right? Is that why you’re here?”
He sighed and passed his hand over his eyes. I noticed for the first time the ever-so-slight graying at his temples. “As a matter of fact, Macy, Alex is the reason that I’m here. Oh, she’s probably sleeping peacefully right now, so there’s no need for you to worry about her tonight. But I must tell you that I am starting to get a little concerned that your presence here is perhaps not in Aunt Alex’s best interests. I have noticed that she seems to be a little preoccupied while she’s trying to work and now there’s this illness that seems to be affecting her. I am of the opinion that your notions of a quick recovery and exhausting physical therapy are doing Aunt Alex more harm than good.”
I was speechless. I certainly had not expected this kind of opposition from Alex’s nephew. I stared at him for a moment.
“Will, I am sorry to hear that you feel this way. I’m here because Alex hired me to be her nurse. My job is to see that her doctor’s orders are carried out. As for my ‘notions’ of a quick recovery, don’t you agree that it’s best for her to begin her normal activities again so that she can get back to her life? I’m not rushing her into anything. This is standard procedure for a patient of her age recovering from hip surgery. Furthermore, the illness that you feel she is currently suffering from seems to be no more than fatigue. It is common among surgery patients, particularly those who are almost eighty years old.”
Will did not waver from his position. “But can you explain why she doesn’t seem to be able to concentrate on her work? I think I know why. It’s because you arrived here with your sad stories about your parents and you’ve dredged up all the unpleasantness about her own family—about Diana and Forrest and their deaths. It’s impossible for her to concentrate when she can’t get her own grief out of her head.”
“I happen to think that she’s dealing with her sadness in a very healthy manner. She doesn’t seem to be dwelling on the past, and she seems generally happy and content.”
Will stared at me steadily. I met his gaze evenly, refusing to let him know that he was making me uncomfortable. Finally he spoke.
“I can see that you’re determined to stay here despite Aunt Alex’s best interests. Fine. There are other ways to persuade you to go.” He stood up. Relieved, I rose as well. He stepped closer to me and put his face very near mine. His dark eyes flashed anger. His lips curled and he hissed at me, “You are not wanted here. Go away from Hallstead Island or you will be very sorry you stayed.”
Then he left, closing the door softly behind him. I found that my knees were trembling and I sat down on the bed with my face in my hands, feeling alone and thoroughly unnerved. What was behind Will’s animosity? I didn’t believe that his actions were caused by a deep concern for Alex’s well-being. I wished there was someone I could talk to. I didn’t want to discuss this incident with Alex since Will was her nephew and I didn’t want to upset or alarm her. I could perhaps speak with Stephan, but that seemed too much like tattling. I needed to know what was driving Will to speak to me in this way. I certainly wouldn’t ask either Vali or Leland, and I didn’
t really feel comfortable asking Giselle. That left only Brandt and Pete. Since Pete spent so much time on the island, he seemed the better choice. Perhaps I could talk to him, make some inquiries about Will, tomorrow.
Rest was what I needed. I pulled the covers up and closed my eyes, expecting sleep to elude me for a long time. But thankfully I was wrong and I fell asleep almost instantly.
It was not to last.
CHAPTER 7
I don’t know what time I was jarred awake by the sound of crashing glass. My heart pounding, I jumped out of bed and switched on the bedside lamp. Looking around, I saw in dismay that a pane of glass in one of the French doors leading to the balcony had been shattered. Glass lay strewn across the floor in a million tiny shards. My mind still foggy from sleep, I could only stand there for a few moments, staring dumbly at the mess. What had happened? Was the wind really blowing that hard? Maybe a branch had been sent flying through the glass. But as I stood still and listened to the night breeze sighing, it seemed unlikely that a sudden gust of wind had caused this damage. I recovered myself enough to put on a pair of slippers, then walked toward the glass slowly, wondering how I was going to clean it up.
Then I saw something under one of the armchairs near the fireplace, and I froze with shock. I knew with sudden clarity what had happened. There sat a large rock. Someone had thrown it through the door.
Now I was afraid. Will must have done this. He had been so angry earlier, and he had promised that I would be sorry for staying here. Had he been standing on the ground below my balcony and tossed it up? Or had he been standing outside my door and thrown it from nearby? Somehow the thought of someone standing right outside my door in the middle of the night sent chills down my spine; it was even more disturbing than the rock throwing itself.
