Waves of Solace

by Ariel Bonin

  While support was obvious from his original group members—Robert, Ana and so on—he was relieved to see everyone else acknowledge his words with acceptance. The alleviation of stress brought his shoulders back, straightening his posture. Lindsey touched his arm once more. He gave her a soft smile and reached for her hand.

  Turning his attention back to the crowd, he said a low, "Thank you," his gaze locking with the woman from earlier. She offered him a civil nod.

  When the people had dispersed, Andrew and Lindsey began the slow walk home, Jacob tip-toeing and swinging between them. They grinned at the boy's excited giggles, but Andrew's face fell as they neared the bungalow.

  "Have you seen Zoey?" he asked, glancing at Lindsey.

  She shook her head. "I haven't seen her since my incident this morning." Her gaze cast to the ground, unable to meet his.

  "Hey," he said, stopping and picking up Jacob. "Don't blame yourself for the way things played out earlier. She was going to find out eventually. It's not your fault."

  "I'm sorry," she murmured, "I can't help it."

  He noticed that her face didn't hold its usual radiance and reached out to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "How're you feelin'?"

  She released a pitiful chuckle. "Pretty shitty."

  As his mouth quirked up at the corner, he pulled her forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Come on. Let's see if we can get you a nap."

  Chapter 15

  Three weeks passed by, but everything remained the same. Andrew eased into his leadership role, helping where he was needed on various jobs, as Brian had done before. He didn't want to make any drastic changes right away and displease the residents further, so he flew under the radar and worked hard. Lindsey continued to be his greatest supporter as she battled what she called "all day sickness." She was lucky enough not to have a repeat of her incident at school, but nausea and fatigue plagued her daily. However, Andrew had to admire her stamina. He helped out with Jacob when he could, but not once did she ask for it. He came home each day to find the two of them playing with blocks, reading, or napping together—the latter being Lindsey's favorite.

  Unfortunately, Zoey had also not changed—only in the sense that she'd given up her sharp attitude and replaced it with depressed silence. Andrew tried to suppress his own guilt for their current predicament, but it didn't bring him any relief. He'd had time to think about their argument, and while his daughter's choice of words could have been a tad more sensitive, he understood why she was upset. Losing Kelly in such a sudden way was traumatic for Zoey—for all of them. He shouldn't have been so surprised that Lindsey's pregnancy would send his daughter into a tailspin. Their lives were constantly changing. As a whole, he was happy with the way his life was going now. Zoey would just have to learn to accept these changes—they were a hell of a lot better than the alternative, which was life or death on the mainland.

  The following Monday evening, Zoey mumbled a thank you for dinner and disappeared into her room to read her books for the umpteenth time. Lindsey eased into one of the wicker chairs in the living room and settled Jacob on her chest. She rubbed the infant's back in slow circles and kissed his fine blond hair. Andrew stayed in his seat at the table and began to disassemble his Beretta. The weapon was in desperate need of a good cleaning and this evening seemed as good as any.

  His cobalt eyes flicked up from the gun to rest on the beautiful sight across the room. A hint of a smile played at his lips as he listened to Lindsey hum softly. She glanced at him, her cheeks flushing with heat when she saw that he was watching her. The look made his smile widen.

  After about ten minutes, Lindsey checked to see that the boy was sleeping and pushed up to stand. She left the room to lay Jacob in his crib and returned a moment later. She wore a tight tank-top and black cloth shorts, but Andrew hadn't noticed it until now. His hand stopped in mid-air as she returned to the chair and settled her gaze on him.

  When Lindsey realized he was staring at her with intense ardor in his eyes, her blush resumed. "What?" she asked, fidgeting in her seat.

  "You're showing," he said softly, still picturing the slight rise of her belly.

  Lindsey pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced down. She smoothed her hands over the stretchy material.

  "We should start talking about names," he prompted with a grin.

  Her wide eyes shot up. "No. Not yet…"

  Andrew's hopeful expression melted away. "Why not?"

  "It's too early," she said, visibly closing up as she declined to meet his concerned gaze.

  Andrew set down whatever he was holding—he wasn't paying attention at that point—and got up to stride across the room. His boots sounded loud on the wooden floor as he approached the silent woman. He knelt in front of her and picked up one delicate hand to hold it within his own.

  "Talk to me, Linds," he whispered. "I've been thrilled since you told me about the baby, but I also feel like I've been walking on eggshells. You don't have to tell me about before if you don't want to… I just need to know where your head's at."

  Lindsey carried on, staring at the wall as she stroked her stomach with her opposite hand. Andrew heaved out a sigh and hung his head. He began to stand and turn away, but her voice stopped him.

  "At my sixteen-week ultrasound, the technician said that everything looked fine—nothing to worry about. Because the baby was in the right position, she could even tell us the gender." Lindsey looked directly at her husband as he crouched down once again. "We were going to have a boy."

  Andrew swallowed the disturbing piece of information. All he'd known about her past was that she'd miscarried. Remembering Kelly, he was aware of trimesters and how after twelve weeks most pregnancies were in the clear. Losing a baby after that point would be completely devastating and unexpected—and to know the gender… Christ.

  "We went home that night and talked about names. We were fortunate to have the same taste—it wasn't difficult to come to a conclusion. So we named him. We gave him a name..." The last sentence was said under her breath, but he still heard it. "A few days later—I remember it was the Saturday before school started up again after Christmas break—I went to get a marker from my desk…" A dream-like smile curled her lips and she gazed at Andrew. "I felt him move. God, Andrew, it was amazing. It was like having a butterfly flutter its wings along the inside of my womb. I've never felt something so incredible."

  He watched the brightness in her eyes fade and become haunted. She struggled to form the next words and Andrew's chest tightened painfully because he knew what was coming.

  "About a week went by… I'd felt him a couple more times, but then one day…there was nothing." Lindsey's breathing hitched and he squeezed her hand for support. "That's when I started to have some spotting. Not too long after, the cramps started. I thought I was going to die…I'd never been in so much pain." Suddenly, her face contorted as she choked out, "And Jared…when he—"

  She stopped, tears trickling down her cheeks. Andrew was sure she was remembering her former husband's reaction, but couldn't possibly verbalize it. He could only imagine that moment—if Kelly had lost Zoey or Jacob, he would have been an absolute wreck.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. It was the first time he'd spoken and the words came out hoarse. "I am so sorry, Linds."

  Andrew reached out, wiped away the moisture on her cheeks and leaned in to gently kiss her brow. His arms enveloped the woman as her body shook with quiet sobs. He held her until the trembling ceased and then raised her head to look at him.

  "We will wait as long as you want. If you need to hold the baby and see that it's okay before we give it a name, so be it. You'll get no pressure from me." She gave him a feeble smile, appreciation emanating from her wet eyes. "I know that wasn't easy for you…but thank you for telling me."

  Lindsey nodded. "I love you," she said, the statement an explanation for why she had just poured her heart out.

  "I love you," he replied, kissing her passionately o
n the mouth. "Both of you."

  Lindsey beamed as he lifted the hem of her shirt and pressed his lips to the smooth flesh beneath it.

  _____

  Later that week, Andrew gave Tyler a hand in helping clean out a storage room in the bunker. They needed to get more organized with their emergency supplies, and Tyler seemed up for the task. Hours later, when Andrew finally found his way back up to daylight, he was approached by Charlie and Phil. Their faces were grim.

  "Oh no…" he breathed in a low voice, "what's up?"

  Charlie tugged off his grubby work gloves, stuffed them into his back pocket and said, "Engine's shot on our boat. Had to have the other one tow us in."

  "We've been working on it all afternoon," Phil added. "Can't get the son of a bitch to start."

  "So we're down to one boat now?" Andrew asked as he attempted to rub the tension from the back of his neck.

  Phil nodded. "For now. I think I know what parts we need, but we don't have them on the island."

  Shit…he's suggesting another run. "Do you know where we could get 'em?"

  The man seemed hesitant to speak, but eventually said, "There's a marina and boatyard about twenty minutes up the coast. That's where we got our three boats, but we haven't been back since then. What it looks like now is anyone's guess."

  Andrew inhaled a breath, held it, and then released it. "If this place is mostly intact, do you think we could get another boat while we're at it?"

  Phil shrugged. "I don't see why not. There were plenty to pick from. It might take us a little bit to get it running, but we'll give it our best shot."

  The gears turned in Andrew's head—finding parts and fixing a boat to working condition would take time, time meant staying in one place, and that always meant trouble—generally in the form of turners. They would need more people this time—two to stay with the boat, because it was the only one they had at this point, and their only way back to the island. They would definitely need more than four for the task itself—at least two to work on the boat, and then the rest would provide security—six, maybe? They could only fit so many people on one boat, plus any necessary supplies. He also didn't want to risk more lives than what was necessary, but then he didn't want too few people like last time. It was a fine line and Andrew despised it—he hated to be responsible.

  "What're you thinkin'?" Charlie asked, assessing Andrew's strained expression.

  "I think it's time for another drawing."

  "That shit again?" the man grumbled.

  "Hey, don't knock it," Phil said. "It's what we've always done."

  "Yeah? Look how well it worked out for Wendy and Brian," Charlie retorted.

  "I know, I know," Andrew said, clearly exasperated, "but it's like Phil said, that's how they do things around here. I plan to makes some changes, but I need to earn their trust first."

  Charlie didn't push it any further and went on to ask, "So when do ya wanna do this?"

  "Tonight. We can do the prep now and head out in the morning."

  Andrew wasn't thrilled about any of this either, but it had to be done. They needed their boats—plain and simple. If he spent too much time on the how, he'd drive himself crazy.

  _____

  "We're down to our last boat," Andrew stated that evening to the gathered residents. "I'm arranging for a group to go to the mainland in search of parts and, hopefully, another boat. Phil knows of a boatyard and marina not far from here where we can look." He allowed his announcement to be absorbed, and then said, "In keeping with New Canaan's tradition, we're going to draw names. First, though, I'd like to give people the opportunity to volunteer. We're only as strong as the person beside us. It makes no sense to force someone into going if there's another person willing to step up."

  After taking a deep breath, he continued. "I need eight people for this run—I'll take the first spot."

  Andrew felt the weight of Lindsey's troubled gaze on the side of his face. He knew she wasn't happy, but he had no other choice. As leader, he was expected to set an example. He had no right to delegate people on a mission that he'd come up with, only to sit back and send them to a possible early demise.

  Charlie and Phil stood opposite of him and the rancher replied, "Count us in."

  "Me, too," Ana said, not far from Charlie.

  Toward the back, a man and woman, probably in their early twenties, raised their hands. Andrew and Lindsey talked to them on occasion, but hadn't gotten much past the formalities. Nonetheless, they were young and strong—exactly what they needed for this run. He acknowledged them with a nod.

  "Oh, what the hell," Nicholas uttered from under his thick mustache. "Been feelin' a little cooped up anyway."

  "Thank you," Andrew said to him and the other volunteers. "Is there anyone else? We only need one more."

  No one stepped up, their heads simply swiveling to look for the last person. When this happened, Andrew sighed. He hated to draw a name, but one was better than seven. Reaching into Zoey's beanie hat, he shuffled around the slips of paper and plucked one out. In what felt like slow motion, he unfolded it and read the name to himself.

  Lindsey.

  Chapter 16

  Andrew's stomach churned as he grasped for a proper way to handle the unexpected situation. While he did this, all eyes were on him, waiting for a name.

  "No," he said suddenly. "No way. We need to draw again." He crumpled up the paper within his fist.

  "Hey! Wait a minute!" came the uproar of confused citizens.

  "Andrew?" Lindsey asked as Charlie didn't say anything and instead just reached for the wad of paper. When he opened it, his eyes looked to Andrew, then the woman next to him.

  "Nah, Andy's right," he said.

  "What's going on?" someone asked toward the back.

  "Give that to me," Lindsey said, snatching the slip from Charlie.

  "Who is it?" another person yelled.

  Lindsey smoothed out the white paper between her fingers and froze. Her eyes stayed glued to it as she whispered, "It's me."

  "And you're not going," Andrew said quickly, his voice stern.

  "Why not?" an older woman demanded from the front row. "She's healthy and perfectly capable of protecting herself. The rules have always been that a person is required to go if their name is drawn. The only exception is a medical condition. What makes her so special?"

  Andrew continued to fight his internal battle. There was no way in hell he was letting Lindsey go on this run, but in order to fix this, he would have to spill her secret. Her life depended on it though, so in this moment, it was necessary. His eyes reflected that as he exchanged a look with his wife.

  Lindsey lowered her gaze to the ground, took a deep breath, and then looked at the woman. The words came out soft, almost as if she were embarrassed. "I was hoping to wait a little longer to make this announcement… I've only told a few people." She forced a partial smile. "I'm pregnant."

  Shocked gasps rose from the crowd. Andrew saw Caren smack Robert's arm and say, "I knew it!"

  "But how do we know you're not just lying to get out of this?" asked the woman, her eyes judging as they rested on the bottom of Lindsey's sweatshirt.

  Lindsey blinked and shifted her shoulders in an uncomfortable manner. Slowly, she lifted her sweatshirt to reveal the same tank-top Andrew had seen her in earlier that week. It accented the faint curve of her pregnant belly and he hoped the telling sight would squash any further doubts. He felt like they were invading Lindsey's privacy, and, to an extent, they were. This was her baby, her body, her announcement to share only when she wanted to—not because she had to.

  Lindsey pushed her sweatshirt back into place and said, "I would never lie about something so serious. If any of you still don't believe me, talk to Dr. Anderson."

  "I'm sorry," the woman said, a slight edge to her tone.

  "Ya should be," Charlie quipped, glaring at her with his icy blue stare. She dropped her eyes as her cheeks colored in shame.

  "So now what?" Phil as
ked.

  It seemed like Lindsey's fate was decided, but Andrew sensed an even bigger divide between the two groups now. Essentially, it put him between a rock and a hard place.

  "I'll go so she doesn't have to," a confident voice said from behind Andrew.

  Clenching his jaw, he turned around to face Zoey. "Absolutely not. You're too young."

  She huffed out a breath. "I wasn't too young before we came here. I can handle turners, you know that!"

  "We didn't have a choice before—now we do. You're not going."

  "Lindsey can't go…she can't."

  Fear exuded from the girl's wide eyes and Andrew felt his heart clench. Zoey wasn't on some teenage power trip, trying to prove herself, as Andrew had first thought. She was worried about Lindsey. Her panicked expression said it all.

  I can't lose her, too.

  "Enough," Kat said, pushing past Nicholas who had a heavy frown set between his brows. "I have no problem taking the last spot." She pinned the large man with a scowl, which signaled to Andrew that there'd been some sort of debate among the couple.

  "Are you sure?" Andrew didn't know why he was asking her that—he would gladly let her go instead of Lindsey or Zoey. He guessed it was just the natural thing to do.

  "Positive."

  "Then it's settled."

  When people began to disperse, Lindsey strode over to Kat. "Thank you," she whispered, throwing her arms around the dark-haired woman.

  Kat returned the embrace with a genuine smile. "Of course."

  _____

  After receiving an outpouring of congratulations, Andrew and family returned home. The day ahead left them in a gloomy mood—few words were spoken as they sat down for dinner. Afterward, Zoey and Andrew played a round of cribbage and then the girl went to bed. Lindsey put Jacob down to sleep and met Andrew in their bedroom.