Winter Wake Page 10

  The air wasn’t just chilly; it was downright cold. Waves sent bubbly white sea foam flying high. The wind off the water whistled shrilly through the trees and bushes, filling the air with the sweet scent of pine. Bri shivered and pulled her collar tightly around her neck, but after walking for a while, she warmed up from the exercise and loosened it again.

  To her surprise and relief, she found a network of paths winding through the undergrowth. Apparently she wasn’t the only person who liked to get away for some solitary thinking. This was such a gorgeous piece of land, she wondered why no one had ever built out here. She figured it was probably protected, either by the state or private ownership. The paths, at least, indicated that whoever owned the land didn’t mind people using it.

  Bri was hoping against hope that the girl she had seen last Sunday would be out here again. All week, she had built up so many fantasies, so many wild and implausible stories about her that she was actually beginning to dread meeting her. The mundane reality of who she was, where she lived, and why she looked so lonely walking the shore might be better left undiscovered.

  In spite of that, though, Bri still couldn’t shake the idea that she and this girl could be friends. Speaking only for herself, of course, Bri was so lonely on Glooscap, all she wanted was one person — one good friend to make life on the island more tolerable ... She wanted someone to go with to the mall and the movies and out to eat … like her friends back in Vermont.

  She paused to watch sea gull wheeling overhead, stalling and drifting in the strong breeze, its wings flashing brilliant white against the blue sky. Its mournful cry came to her on the wind, and with a sudden fluttering, it swooped down and landed in the water, where it rode the shifting gray swells, looking too tiny to survive in such a cold and hostile environment.

  Just like me, Bri thought, and her eyes began to tear up as she faced into the wind and licked her upper lip to taste the salt. She was amazed that the gull wasn’t picked up by one of the waves and sent crashing against the jagged rocks.

  She lost all sense of time as she focused on the solitary gull, losing him and then finding him again, bobbing on the waves. The horizon was dotted with the sharp outlines of islands farther out, but Bri concentrated close to shore, trying to really feel what that gull experienced as he was tossed about by powerful natural forces. Her thoughts were drifting on the water with the gull, but suddenly the back of her neck prickled, and she snapped back to full awareness, aware that someone was watching her.

  Her mouth gaped open as if she were about to speak as she turned and looked back along the path she had come. A tight constriction gripped her chest when she saw a figure in the shadows of the low-hanging branches. It was almost totally camouflaged by the tangle of tree limbs and dead leaves still clinging to the trees.

  It’s her, Bri thought, her breath catching in her throat with an audible click.

  The girl from the beach was standing there, looking at her.

  Bri licked her lips and sucked in a quick breath before speaking.

  “Hey … Hello,” she said.

  Bri was looking at the girl over her shoulder, and now she turned slowly around. Something in her mind made her think of this girl like a frightened animal. She didn’t want to do anything to spook her.

  “I — umm, I thought I might bump into you today,” Bri said tentatively. She shrugged awkwardly, lifting both of her hands to indicate the expanse of ocean behind her. “It’s so beautiful down here. I can understand why you like to come down here.”

  Standing in the tangle of bushes, the girl didn’t move or say a word. She stood perfectly still and was so silently Bri began to wonder if she was really there at all. She was suddenly aware of how dry her throat was.

  Maybe I’m imagining things, Bri thought. She’s an illusion ... a trick of light and shadows.

  “Come on,” Bri said, taking a small step in the girl’s direction. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” She gave a quick little laugh that sounded unnaturally loud to her own ears.

  The girl stood there looking at her through the tangled branches. Her eyes were the only things about her that moved, darting back and forth, from Bri to the ground and back to Bri. Her face had a pinched quality, and it looked unnaturally pale, especially for someone who apparently spent as much time outside as she did. Her hair was thick and long, a dull black — the exact color of the shadowed tree branches she was hiding behind.

  “I know you saw me last week over on Sandy Beach,” Bri said, taking a few more steps closer to the girl. For some reason, it looked as though they got no closer. “I’ve been thinking all week that we probably ought to meet. I think we’re — what do they call it? ‘Kindred spirits?’ Yeah. That’s it.”

  “Maybe,” the girl said. Her voice was a low, airy whisper that was instantly whisked away quickly by the sea breeze and left the impression that she hadn’t spoken at all. But with that single word, Bri knew they were going to be friends. Her tone of voice held a lost loneliness that mirrored Bri’s own feelings of being without friends.

  “Come on,” Bri said, waving her forward with her hand. She glanced over her shoulder at the tossing swells heaving up on the rocks, sending white spray flashing into the sky. “I mean, walking alone out here can be fun and all, but sometimes it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Don’t you think?”

  The girl didn’t answer. Instead, she closed her eyes and, tilting her head back, looked up at the sky. When she opened her eyes again, she looked directly at Bri with an expression that was both distant and piercing.

  “I guess so,” she said, her voice still a low thrum.

  “Well, then — come on.” Bri waved at her more vigorously. “I don’t bite, for crying out loud.”

  The girl seemed to deliberate for a few seconds, apparently weighing the solitary freedom she was giving up against the companionship she might be gaining. Then, ducking beneath an overhanging branch, she stepped out onto the path in clear view.

  The first thing Bri noticed was that, in full sunlight, the girl’s hair took on a richer, deeper tone that made her face look all the paler. Her eyes were dark brown and had a distanced warmth that Bri had never seen before in anyone’s eyes. As the girl moved toward her, Bri couldn’t help but be surprised at how small she was. Having seen her only fleetingly and at a distance, she had for some reason expected her to be much taller than she actually was. But her smile, faint and fleeting like the rest of her, was also genuinely inviting.

  “My name’s Brianna Mullen,” Bri said, holding out her hand for the girl to shake. The girl’s hand was freezing cold in her grip, and she wasn’t surprised when the other girl quickly broke off the contact. As soon as they let go, she slid her hands into her sweater pockets. “Everyone calls me Bri. I live up on —”

  “I know where you live,” the girl said, looking Bri squarely in the eyes without blinking. “Your last name’s Mullen?”

  “Well, yeah. My mom’s married to John Carlson,” Bri said. “So her name’s Carlson, but my dad’s name is Mullen. You probably know Frank Carlson. The old guy who lives in the house on the corner.” She was finished, thinking she already had blurted out too much, so with nothing else to do, she shrugged awkwardly and waited for the girl to tell her her name.

  “I see,” the girl said finally, nodding her head slightly. “So you’re not his real daughter.”

  “Oh, no. My real father lives in Cooper Falls, New Hampshire. He’s a schoolteacher. But, umm, what’s your name?” Bri asked before another awkward silence could descend.

  The girl’s gaze drifted out over the water, and she — just as Bri had been — seemed captured by the seething power of the ocean.

  Kindred spirits, indeed, Bri thought.

  “My name’s ... Audrey,” the girl said, a faint smile twisting one corner of her mouth. “Audrey Church.”

  With that, she turned and started walking slowly down along the rocky edge. Bri hurried to catch up with her as she leaped from rock to rock.r />
  “And — uh — how come you know where I live?” Bri asked. As they walked, they kept well back from the water’s edge; but because of the unevenness of the ground, they couldn’t walk next to each other.

  “This is a small island,” Audrey said. “It doesn’t have many secrets. Word gets around fast.”

  “I see.”

  As they walked, Bri was astounded at how effortlessly Audrey moved over the rocks. It seemed as though she easily scaled over large rocks that Bri, rather than scrambling up, would just as soon walk around. Bri struggled to keep up with her, and before long she found herself almost too winded to talk.

  “Was that you outside my house the other night?” she asked when they had reached the tip of the headland and stopped to look out across the bay toward the city of Portland. The purple-hazed outline of the city looked like a mirage in the distance.

  For a flickering instant, Audrey remained hypnotized by the view, her eyes fixed on the distant city skyline. Then, shaking her head, she turned and looked at Bri.

  “Outside your house?” she said, a look of genuine confusion on her face. “I — I don’t know … I don’t think so.”

  “Last Sunday?” Bri said. “I saw you down on the beach. I tried to catch up with you, but you well … kind of avoided me. I thought you were outside my house later that night.”

  Audrey seemed to consider and then shook her head. Again, looking Bri squarely in the eyes, she said, “No … I mean … I remember taking a walk on the beach — at least I think I did ... I like it on the beach. I suppose I might have walked past your house on my way home.”

  “Come on,” Bri said with a nervous laugh. “You’re teasing me. You were out there, watching me in the window.”

  She tried to swat Audrey playfully on the back, but the girl twisted to one side, and Bri missed. The move was so quick Bri almost lost her balance and fell. Looking down at the more than ten-foot drop to the water, churning with foam and seaweed, she felt a cold dash of panic in the pit of her stomach. Audrey’s face remained impassive, as if she either hadn’t realized how close Bri had come to falling or else she simply didn’t care.

  “It was really late at night,” Bri said, her voice tight with tension. She took a few steps away from the drop-off. “You — or someone — was out under the streetlight by the side of the house.”

  Audrey shook her head. “I wasn’t ... unless I was, like I said, on my way home.”

  “So where you live? What are you into?” Bri asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  For several seconds, Audrey didn’t answer as she peered out over the ocean. Bri was beginning to accept that this was typical of her — to act as if she was either considering her response or hadn’t heard her at all and had her mind on something else.

  “I’m over on the other side of the island,” Audrey said at last, indicating the general direction with a vague wave of her hand.

  Bri thought of an odd image. Each of Audrey’s words was a milkweed puff, and as soon as a word was out of her mouth, it zipped away, carried by the breeze. She had the curious feeling that when Audrey spoke, she wasn’t sure she had said anything. Her words were like water that evaporated as soon as they were spoken.

  “I was wondering why I didn’t see you all week at school,” Bri said. “I kept hoping I’d bump into you so we could meet, but — I mean I thought I saw you once or twice, but you must be in high school, huh?” She shrugged and slapped her hands against her legs as though she could provide no answer herself.

  “It’s my ... my parents,” Audrey said, her face suddenly darkening. “They don’t put a whole lot of trust in school. They don’t want me to go because they don’t think I’ll get the right kind of education.”

  “Are they fundamentalist Christians or something?”

  A confused smile flitted across Audrey’s face. It was the most expression Bri had seen so far, but it had such wistful sadness it almost broke her heart.

  “No … My parents ... they’re —” Audrey suddenly cut herself off and turned from Bri to look over the ocean again.

  Bri couldn’t help but finish the sentence for her. In her mind, she heard the words, They’re dead. She didn’t know how she knew this. It didn’t make sense, but dead was the word she was sure Audrey would have used to finish her sentence.

  I’ll bet it’s because she’s poor … Just look at that ratty old sweater … She won’t tell me where she lives because she’s embarrassed about her home life …

  Bri shivered and hugged herself. They started walking again, angling around the curve of the shore, along the landward side of Glooscap. Here, sheltered from the wind, Bri realized how heated she was from trying to keep up with Audrey, who continued to climb seemingly effortlessly over the rocks. Up ahead, around the bend, gray-weathered pilings ringed with seaweed marked the entrance to the harbor. The sea was calmer on this side of the island, and everywhere it was dotted with the brilliant markings of lobster buoys and anchorage floats.

  When Bri started off toward where the rocks dropped off and the beach flattened out, Audrey drew to a sudden halt. Her eyes — which had looked so warm and brown before — now took on a steely coldness, looking almost blue as she stared across the narrow harbor toward the assortment of wharfs and fishing shacks.

  “I — I don’t want to go over there,” she said, shaking her head from side to side.

  “Okay.”

  Audrey turned to Bri with a scared-animal look in her eyes. It struck Bri as strange how she could change so suddenly and apparently with so little reason. The only sound besides the gentle rush of waves along the shore was the far-off putt-putt of a lobster boat rounding into the harbor from the opposite side of the island.

  “Is there someone over there you don’t want to see?” Bri asked.

  At least by the way Audrey was acting, Bri had the impression there was someone she was embarrassed or shy about seeing. Maybe her father was one of those reprobate lobstermen her father complained about … or maybe she had had an argument with her boyfriend who worked down on the docks and she didn’t want to bump into him. But other than the lobsterman rounding into the harbor — and he was far enough away so he wouldn’t have been able to tell who they were — the only other people in sight were the small, dark specks of the men hanging around the fishing shacks.

  “I don’t want — people to see me when I walk. That’s all,” Audrey said simply. She turned and looked back the way they had come.

  Bri glanced at her watch, then out to the point of rocks they had just left. She wanted to spend the rest of the day with Audrey and get to know her and maybe figure out where she was coming from, but it was close to lunchtime, and she had promised her mother she’d finish her room this afternoon.

  “You wanna come to my house for lunch?” Bri asked.

  Audrey seemed to let the question settle in her mind for a few seconds. Her eyes flickered back and forth, not focusing on anything. Finally she patted a bulge in her sweater pocket and said, “Thanks, but no. I’m not hungry.”

  “Come on,” Bri said. “After lunch, I told my mom I’d finish unpacking my things. You won’t have to do any of the work, but it’d be nice to have someone to talk to while I do it. I can show you —”

  “No. I don’t think so,” Audrey said distantly, cutting Bri off.

  “Then why don’t I go home and fix us some sandwiches? I can get us each a bottle of soda, and we can make a picnic of it.”

  Audrey shook her head vigorously. “No,” she said. “I like being alone.”

  Bri had been thinking she and Audrey would be fast friends —”kindred spirits” — and she was stung by the sharpness of Audrey’s reply. The wind off the water whistled in her ears, and looking out over the ocean, she knew how deep and cold Audrey’s loneliness was. Her eyes started to burn with tears.

  “Well … then,” Bri said, “after lunch … maybe I’ll bump into you again.”

  “Maybe,” Audrey said.

  Without a back
ward glance, she started walking out toward the point of land. Her slouched, frail figure in her bulky gray sweater quickly blended in with the tumbled rocks, and before long, she was out of sight.

  “S’long,” Bri called out, her voice sounding flat. The wind blowing straight into her face stuffed her words back into her mouth. She had the curious sensation that she was talking to herself — and had been all along. Embarrassed that someone might see her, she quickly turned and started back along the path up to the road.

  III

  All morning, while she was painting the window trim in the living room and John did the wallpapering, Julia found it best to keep her distance from her husband. It wasn’t so much that he was still angry at her from their argument the night before. They’d had that discussion often enough. No. She sensed a different kind of tension circling around him like a hungry shark in the water. When he looked at her, his eyes smoldered with a hidden fire almost as though he was looking at something he didn’t want — or dare — talk about. Whatever it was, it was deeper than anything she had seen in him before. Another round of talking about having another child certainly wasn’t the cause.

  Julia’s first thought was that it mostly had to do with unspoken and unresolved issues between father and son. Once she and John could talk to each other — maybe tonight — she was going to push him about making a more honest effort, as he had promised, to deal directly with his father.

  Meanwhile, she found escape in work and was content to let him work. They limited conversation to questions about the color of the paint or requests to hold a piece of wallpaper in place while measurements and cuts were made before gluing.