Thomas Kinkade

by The Inn at Angel Island (v5)

  Then she heard Peter open the door and heard him talking to someone, a man’s voice.

  Maybe it’s Daniel, she thought. Maybe the route back to his house was flooded, so he had to turn around and come back here.

  She secretly readied herself for Daniel’s appearance. But her heart soon flipped from unexpected cheer to unexpected dread. She did recognize the visitor’s voice. It wasn’t Daniel. And she might have welcomed Count Dracula more.

  “Jeff is here,” Peter called out from the foyer. “The bridge was flooded. He couldn’t cross.”

  Liza walked into the hallway and stopped. Jeff stood at the front door, slipping out of his wet leather jacket. His hair and pants were wet, too. He glanced at her with a sheepish expression.

  “I’m sorry. I rode around the island for a while after I left here, just to take a look.”

  Looking for me, Liza filled in silently. She was glad she had gone to the cemetery. Jeff would never have guessed she was there, even if he had driven right by. It almost felt as if her aunt had protected her from him out there.

  “The rain started and I wasn’t thinking,” Jeff went on. “But by the time I got to the bridge, it was closed. I didn’t realize that’s how they run things here.”

  That wasn’t how any group of people on the island ran things. It was the way nature ran things. But Liza didn’t try to explain that to him.

  Claire stepped past Liza and handed Jeff a towel.

  “Thank you,” Jeff said sincerely. He wiped his face, then rubbed his hair.

  “Well, you might as well come in,” Liza said finally. “I guess you’ll have to stay awhile.”

  If not the entire night.

  “How long does it take for the water to recede?” he asked.

  Liza shrugged. “It all depends on the weather conditions and the tide.”

  “High tide is around nine tonight. I just read it in the paper,” Peter said. “With all this rain and wind, I doubt the bridge will open until one or even two in the morning.”

  “We can call the gatehouse and find out,” Claire said. “I have the phone number in the kitchen.”

  There was a chance that the water would clear up by midnight or so, Liza thought. But not much of a chance. It seemed like she was stuck with Jeff, whether she liked it or not.

  A short time later, they all sat down to an early dinner by candlelight—sandwiches and more soup. Luckily, the gas range was not affected by the power outage, and the meal was perfect for the rainy night.

  Jeff was on his best behavior, Liza noticed. He was pretty quiet and only spoke when spoken to. He was probably afraid that given the way things were going for him today, she might toss him out in the storm. She had given it a thought.

  After dinner it was too early to go up to bed, though the storm still raged outside and there seemed no possibility of the power coming back.

  Jeff called the gatehouse at the bridge from his cell phone, though they all knew it was a lost cause.

  “Still closed. They doubt it will open until the morning.”

  “You have to stay over, I guess,” Liza said. “It’s all right, we have plenty of room.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Jeff tried to catch her eye, but she looked away.

  “I’ll make up a room for you,” Claire said.

  “I’ll help,” Liza offered, looking for an excuse to go upstairs.

  “That’s all right. I just need to put sheets on a bed. Everything else is ready.”

  As if she had already guessed someone would be staying over tonight, Liza thought. How did Claire know these things? Liza decided that one day she would have to ask her.

  “Why don’t we play a board game or something?” Peter suggested. Will groaned and covered his face with his hand, but Peter ignored him. “I saw some in the parlor; I’ll get them.”

  Liza felt uncomfortable once Peter left. But at least Will was still there.

  Jeff smiled at her. “What a storm. It’s like a full-blown hurricane.”

  “Not quite,” Liza answered. “But the island is out in the open. The storms in the spring hit very hard.”

  “I’m sorry I had to come back,” he said. “I know you weren’t happy to see me.”

  Liza shrugged. “You’re here now. There’s nothing we can do about it. Let’s just get through the evening, okay?”

  He nodded. “Okay, Liza. Whatever you say.”

  Peter returned with an armful of board games. After some debate, they decided to play Scrabble.

  It took a round or two to identify the best players at the table. Liza was not bad but not exactly a top contender. Neither was Jeff, and after a short time, he excused himself and went upstairs with a flashlight, planning to read in his room.

  Claire was very good, Liza noticed, the best at the table. While Peter and Will argued over the rules, she would sit quietly, fiddling with her tiles. And then when her turn came, she would invariably lay down a high-scoring word.

  “Zydeco . . .” Claire said, carefully placing her tiles and racking up over thirty points in one blow.

  As the game wound down, it was easy to see that Claire would win by a wide margin. Peter and Will continued to battle it out for second place with fierce, competitive energy that seemed distinctly male, Liza thought. Or perhaps it was some father-son dynamic.

  She suddenly remembered why she hated playing board games with her brother. It wasn’t just that he was older and usually more skillful than she was. It was that he took them so seriously and was so focused on winning. Will seemed to be putting up with it and even giving Peter some of his own medicine back. But Peter was gloating at every chance, and that could get on anyone’s nerves after a while.

  At first it was great to watch Will having fun, without the benefit of his iPod, cell phone, or computer. But as the game drew to a close and the tension level rose, he started to sink into a mood. Finally, her nephew and brother were down to one tile each, with Will several points ahead of Peter.

  Will had a K and could find no spot to place it. Peter had an S, which was much easier to add to almost any word on the board. He soon found the perfect spot, at the end of one of Claire’s doozies—the word quip. And the S just happened to land on a “double word score” square.

  “Eureka! Got you, Will. I told you that your old man would beat you. Believe it, buddy.” Peter stood up and made a great show of placing the winning consonant down. “Quips. Q-U-I-P-S. Double word score—I win!”

  “Claire won, Peter,” Liza reminded him. “You’re in second place.”

  “Whatever,” her brother said, undeterred from his victory.

  Even in the dark, Liza could see Will’s face grow red with indignation.

  “Let me see that.” He grabbed the board and twisted it around. “Quips? Are you sure that’s a word? I’ve never heard of it.”

  Claire put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “It’s a word, Will. But you did very well. Especially for someone who never plays this game. I was very impressed.”

  Will didn’t answer. He just stared at the board, his face twisted in disappointment. “That stinks. S-T-I-N-K-S,” he said finally.

  “Hey, it’s just a game. I won fair and square, Will. No need to be a sore loser,” Peter told him.

  Will tossed his head back. “Right. It’s just a game, Dad. That’s why you’re hopping up and down. Totally dissing me.” Will stood up and flipped the board over, scattering tiles in all directions. “Whoops,” he said, in a tone that clearly communicated this was no accident. “Sorry about that.”

  Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

  “Will, come back here! Where are you going?” Peter called after him.

  “Up to bed. All that spelling gave me a headache,” he called back.

  “He needs to come back and clean this up,” Peter said, his voice tense.

  Liza glanced at Claire, who wore an expression somewhere between sympathy for Will and outright laughter. Peter had been laying it on pretty th
ick. Maybe he did deserve a little of this bad behavior.

  “It’s too dark to find the tiles tonight, Peter. He can clean it up tomorrow,” Liza suggested. “I’m really tired. I’m heading up to bed.”

  “Me, too.” Claire rose and picked up her flashlight. “Let’s go up together, we’ll have more light,” she suggested.

  They left the room, and Peter soon followed.

  Up in her room, Liza quickly prepared for bed. It wasn’t really late, but sitting in the dark for hours had made her sleepy. Or maybe it was all the bike riding in the rain.

  As Liza changed into her nightgown, she heard footsteps in the hallway outside her room, going back and forth to the bathroom. Claire had given Jeff a room on the third floor, and Liza was grateful for that. It was bad enough to have him stay overnight. She didn’t need him sleeping in close proximity.

  By the time Liza shut off the light and got into bed, the storm seemed to have slowed down. Raindrops still fell against the big window in her room, but the wind seemed quieter. She had not quite fallen asleep when she heard a gentle tapping on her door.

  She sat up in bed. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Jeff,” her ex whispered. “Come to the door.”

  Liza sighed out loud. She knew he was going to pull something like this. She had half a mind to make a big scene, but she didn’t want to wake everyone.

  “Okay, I’m coming.” But you’re not coming in, pal, she added silently.

  Liza pulled on a bathrobe, tied the belt, then went to the door and opened it a crack. Jeff stood in the darkness waiting, still mostly dressed, she was relieved to see. He was barefoot but wearing a white T-shirt and jeans.

  “What is it? Do you need a toothbrush or something?”

  “I need to talk to you. Just for a minute,” he said quietly.

  Liza stared at him. He just wasn’t going to give up, was he?

  “It’s late, Jeff. We can talk tomorrow. Before you go,” she added.

  “I’d rather talk now. When we can have some privacy. Just let me come in for a second. For goodness’ sake, Liza. We were married for over seven years.”

  But we’re not anymore, Liza nearly replied, and you seem like a stranger to me now.

  She wasn’t sure when that had happened. But she felt now as if she were seeing Jeff for the first time, from a great distance. And she wondered how and why she had ever married him.

  “Please?” he asked.

  “All right. We can talk. Just for a few minutes. Let’s go downstairs,” she suggested. She quickly stepped out of the room without giving him time to debate. Turning on her flashlight, she headed for the stairs.

  Jeff seemed surprised by this maneuver but soon followed her downstairs and then into the parlor.

  She sat in an armchair, giving him no opportunity to get close. “All right, Jeff. Here we are. It’s late, and I’d like to get some sleep.”

  “I tried to sleep, but I knew I couldn’t. I want to apologize for what I did today. I was just so . . . so overwhelmed by my insight about our relationship,” he explained, “I had to share it with you. But I shouldn’t have come here without asking you first. I can see that now. I just want to apologize,” he added in a humble tone.

  Liza was surprised. She thought she was going to have to field another plea for reconciliation. She could handle this conversation.

  “It’s all right. I understand, I guess . . . Let’s just get past it, okay?” She took a deep breath. “I’ve done some thinking today, too. I’m not sure we should have ever gotten married. We always got along well, we seemed to want the same things out of life . . . but I’m not sure the feelings were ever deep enough to last. On either side,” she added, though it was painful to admit.

  “Liza, please don’t say that. You’re still angry with me. About my—my mistake. The way I hurt you. And you have a perfect right to be.”

  “I’m not angry anymore,” she said honestly. She didn’t know when that had happened. Maybe the rainstorm had washed all the anger out of her. “In fact, I even understand how it could have happened. Really,” she insisted. “When you came here today, I was upset. But I know I played a part in our breakup, Jeff. I can see that now. Getting back together just wouldn’t work for me. There’s nothing to build on anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure there ever was much solid ground.”

  His expression tightened with pain, and she felt sorry for what she had said. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She just wanted to be honest. Maybe for the very first time.

  He was silent for a long while. At last he said, “So this is how you really feel?”

  “Yes, that’s it. I can finally put it into words. I hope you understand.”

  “I do,” he answered, then let out a long sigh. “I don’t agree, but I guess I have to accept this as your final answer.”

  “It is. I admit, I’ve been uncertain these past few months about what to do. Or if we should try again. But I feel really clear about things now. I’m sorry to hurt you, but sometime in the future, I think you’ll see it was the right thing to do.”

  She believed that, too, finally. She could see now in the rubble of their relationship an opportunity for both of them to be happier, to find a deeper, more genuine connection.

  Would her connection with Daniel grow to something more? It was much too soon to say. But Liza could see from the short time they had spent together that there were possibilities for her.

  She wasn’t pushing Jeff away for Daniel, but her time with him had helped her see that she had changed and Jeff just wasn’t right for her anymore. She needed something different. Someone different. Jeff did, too.

  “I hope so, Liza. It seems I have no choice, no matter how I feel right now. Part of me will always love you,” he insisted.

  He leaned down and gave her a hug. Liza didn’t resist. She knew part of her would always love him, too, in a certain way.

  Jeff stood up. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Jeff.” Liza stood up, too, but didn’t follow him to the stairway.

  She heard him go upstairs, and she went to the window. There seemed to be a break in the storm, though she wondered if it had ended for good. The thick gray clouds had parted and scuttled across the sky, driven by the wind.

  Behind the clouds the full moon shone bold and bright, finally having its say. Liza thought it was a beautiful sight. It made her feel calm and whole, reminding her of the endless cycles that hold the universe together. That held her life together. Nothing really ended, not even a marriage. It evolved into something different, and life went on.

  BACK in her room, Liza left her flashlight on the night table by her bed. She slipped under the covers and quickly fell asleep.

  She was not sure how long she had been asleep or what time it was when she heard the storm build again, the wind and rain beating against the windowpanes and rooftop. She woke up for a moment and rolled to her side, the rumble of thunder seeming part of her dreams.

  It was sometime later when a brilliant light filled her room, startling her from a deep sleep. She sat up in bed, wide-eyed. It seemed as if a huge beacon had been shining into the bedroom windows.

  Then she heard the crackle of lightning and a huge boom. The entire house shook, feeling as if it were about to explode. A thunderous cracking sound came next, then a huge crash—right above her head. It sounded as if the house had been hit with a bomb.

  Liza jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway, grabbing the flashlight as she pulled open her bedroom door. Peter was already in the hallway along with Will.

  Her nephew ran to her, looking frightened. “What was that, Aunt Liza? I smell smoke.”

  “I do, too. Get a rain jacket and your shoes, Will, and wait in the foyer. We may have to leave the house.”

  She didn’t think the house was on fire. There was no smoke alarm sounding. But she had no idea what had happened. It didn’t hurt to be cautious.

  Claire came down from the thi
rd floor in her bathrobe, followed by Jeff. They both carried flashlights, and the thin beams darted around in the darkness.

  “The big tree on the drive, right next to the house, was hit by lightning,” Claire reported. “A branch went through the roof.”

  “Oh, great . . .” Peter pushed past everyone and ran up the steps, two at a time. Liza followed. They came to the third floor, and he pulled open the door to the attic.

  Liza felt a cold rush of air and heard the rain coming in. She followed Peter up the narrow stairs. Ahead of her, he went all the way into the attic. She poked her head up to see what was going on.

  “I can’t believe this,” he moaned. “Look at this mess!”

  A huge tree branch had crashed through the roof and left a big jagged hole where the night sky could be seen clearly. The wind-driven rain poured in, soaking everything nearby—boxes and furniture and stacks of her aunt’s canvases that had been stored up there. Bits of shingles, tarpaper, the wooden beams of the roof, and pieces of the tree were also scattered all over. The branch itself sat heavy and immobile in the middle of everything. It looked like the tip of a big wooden arrow, Liza thought, that had been shot at their house by some angry giant.

  “Let’s pull some of this out of the way if we can.” Liza didn’t wait for help. She ran over to the wettest area and grabbed what she could—a large steamer trunk—dragging it to a dry spot. Then she ran back to rescue more.

  Claire and Jeff came up into the attic, and eventually even Will joined them, and everyone worked together to clear the space under and around the huge branch.

  “We need to put something over the hole,” Claire said. “A tarp or a drop cloth or something.”

  “How will we do that?” Liza was grateful for the suggestion, spoken in such a cool, level-headed manner, but she didn’t have the foggiest idea of how this remedy could be accomplished.

  “We can use one of the ladders Daniel left and get up to the roof, then pull the tarp over. One person can stand up on the balcony on the third floor,” Claire suggested.