Shadowlands Read online

  Fisher was eating an ice-cream bar, and I saw him crinkle up the wrapper and start to throw it over his shoulder, but Tristan stopped him with a hand to his arm. He said something, and Fisher shrugged, tucking the wrapper into his pocket. Guess Tristan was green as well as beautiful.

  “You know, he’s actually not that bad,” Darcy mused, nodding along to the minstrel’s song.

  I rolled my eyes. That was Darcy for you. Mocking something one day, loving it the next.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s check out the general store.”

  We walked to the end of the street, and Darcy put her hand on the door, then froze, staring at something over her shoulder. Hovering over the ocean on a bluff at the southernmost point of the island was a huge house with a wraparound porch. It was painted blue with intricate, carved details around the many windows and dozens of flowerpots hanging from the porch. It had two turrets, almost like a castle, and gable windows facing the town, plus a huge patio with vine-covered trellises surrounding it. Atop one of the turrets was a golden weathervane with a swan motif, which I noticed was pointing due north, even though the wind was definitely blowing in from the west.

  “Is that a hotel?” I asked.

  “It has to be,” Darcy said. “Either that or someone stinking rich lives there.”

  We turned to walk into the general store, but the door opened and we both jumped back as Joaquin exited.

  “Hey, Rory,” he said in his deep voice, giving me an aren’t you glad you bumped into me kind of smile.

  “Um, hi,” I said, glancing over at Darcy.

  “And Darcy!” he added quickly. He was wearing a black polo shirt with an embroidered swan on the left breast pocket, the words THIRSTY SWAN sewn in cursive over its head. I noticed Darcy admiring his biceps as he twisted the lid off a bottle of iced tea.

  “Hi!” she said. “I thought you were working a double shift today.”

  “I am.” He took a swig, then recapped the bottle and moved away from the door to let a pair of girls pass by into the store. I recognized them as the girls who had been talking to Aaron last night, but they didn’t bother to say hi. “I just came over here for lunch.”

  “Oh. Us, too,” Darcy said.

  Neither of us had said a word about lunch, but it was like she had to agree with everything he said.

  “Too bad I missed you,” he said, looking her up and down. “I wouldn’t have minded having the Thayer girls as my arm candy.”

  She blushed a deep red. I tried not to vomit. He stepped toward us, forcing us to part so that he could get through.

  “You guys should come by the Swan tonight,” he said, pausing near the edge of the sidewalk and looking directly at me.

  “Why?” I said.

  Darcy smacked my arm with the back of her hand.

  “Because I’ll be there,” he replied. The glint in his eye was half teasing, half cocky.

  “Ha-ha,” I said flatly.

  “I’m really not getting any love from you, am I?” he asked, still smiling.

  My sister’s obvious worship wasn’t enough for him?

  “No, really,” he added when I didn’t bother answering. “Everyone hangs out there. It’s kind of our thing.”

  “Cool. We’re in,” Darcy said, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, which forced her chest up and out.

  I shot her a look. There were only so many times we could get away with sneaking out.

  “Cool,” Joaquin said. “Just head down to the docks and look for the carving of the drunk swan. You can’t miss it.”

  Then he flipped open a pair of aviator sunglasses, slid them up his nose with one finger, and strode away. I couldn’t help noticing that every female he passed on the street, from the twelve-year-old with the ice-cream cone to the geriatric with the blue hair, turned to check him out.

  “Why do you like that guy?” I asked Darcy as soon as he was out of earshot.

  “How can you not like that guy?” she asked.

  Because he was cocky. Because he was too sure of himself and obviously a player. Plus even after their supposed bonding session last night, he kept talking to me like she wasn’t even there.

  “We’re not going out tonight,” I told her, thinking back to the fog that enveloped me on the beach. Imagined laugh or no, staying in seemed like a much safer option.

  “Yes, we are,” she replied, yanking open the door to the general store.

  “No. We’re not,” I shot back.

  Darcy groaned loudly and stormed inside ahead of me. She was already trying on sunglasses at a wire rack as I closed the door behind us. Slowly, I made my way around the store and up and down the three short aisles. The place stocked everything from cereal to gardening gloves to underwear, but there was no magazine section. That was odd. I thought people in vacation towns were always clamoring for the latest issues of Us Weekly or whatever to read on the beach.

  I approached the counter, where a woman with white hair was drying off tall soda-fountain glasses. She had on a blue-and-white gingham dress and a white, lace-trimmed apron.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  Her smile was brighter than the sun outside. “What can I do ya for, hon?”

  “Do you have any newspapers?” I asked.

  She chucked her chin toward the register. “Have at ’em. They’re free.” Next to the old-fashioned change return was a stack of folded paper that looked something like my school newspaper, which only printed four times a year. I walked over and lifted the top copy.

  THE DAILY REGISTER:

  JUNIPER LANDING’S ONE AND ONLY NEWS SOURCE

  The first article was titled A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A JL LIFEGUARD. Under the headline was a huge photograph of a smiling Joaquin Marquez.

  “That’s it?” I blurted.

  “People come here to get away from it all,” the woman said with a shrug. Then she shoved through the swinging door behind the counter and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Unbelievable. “I’m going outside!” I shouted to Darcy.

  “Whatever,” she replied.

  The bell tinkled again as I shoved through the door and dropped into the first wire chair. I quickly flipped through the thin rag, my hopes falling with each turn of the page. There were stories on the upcoming Founder’s Day parade, a piece on a local jeweler, and a notice about a roundtable the mayor was hosting, but there was no national news page. Not even a column. Not one single mention of Roger Krauss/Steven Nell or the “unnamed teenage girl” he’d attacked in the woods outside Princeton. Back home, our story had been front-page news every morning and splashed across all the local stations. It had been on CNN and Dateline.

  But here in Juniper Landing, it was as if neither one of us even existed.

  The wet suit was surprisingly comfortable, once all the neoprene had been stretched and adjusted and smoothed out. But thank god I had never been all that self-conscious about my body, because this thing showed every last curve of it. I stepped into the cool bay water and walked over to where Aaron was standing in a similar suit, though his was two shades of blue and modern, while mine was plain black and looked like something out of a 1950s spy movie.

  “So. What do you think?” he asked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

  I looked down at the red-and-white flowered windsurfing board, its sail waterlogged on the opposite side. It wasn’t until that moment that I felt the sheer force of the wind and heard it trying to rip a tunnel through my ear. Just a few yards out, the water was choppy and peppered with whitecaps. Off in the distance, I saw the top points of the bridge sticking out above the ever-present fog, which clung to the water just north of us even though the sky was bright blue over our heads. I felt a chill at the mere sight of the swirling mist.

  “I think I might be insane,” I said.

  A definite possibility after last night’s panicked fog episode and the humming I may or may not have heard on our porch. Not that I’d be telling him about any of that.r />
  Aaron laughed and stepped onto the board like it was nothing. “You’re going to love it.” He grabbed a rope attached to the sail with one hand and held the other out to me. “We’ll go out together the first time, and once you see how simple it is, we’ll come back in and get you your own board.”

  That idea was slightly less terrifying.

  “Now get up here,” he said with a grin.

  My heart pounding, I took his hand. He pulled me up and slid me in front of him. He bent down to the side and tugged on the rope until the sail slowly rose up out of the water. My feet slipped and I almost went down, but Aaron somehow steadied me against his chest while continuing to hoist the sail with both hands.

  “Hold on to the sail and lean back into me,” he said, once it was up all the way. There was a bar in front of us, and I clung to it for dear life. He quickly grabbed a nylon rope and swung it around our waists, lashing us to each other and the mast. He was so self-assured and so quick I felt my pulse start to race.

  “The three most important things are that you hold on to the sail, you keep leaning back, and you keep your feet as close to the mast as you possibly can,” he said in my ear. “I’m going to turn the board to get us going.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, looking down at my feet. My toes were curled, gripping the slippery surface for dear life, and the muscles in my arches were already starting to ache. “Where did you learn to do all this?”

  His arms and feet were both working, moving the board around beneath our feet. I stepped up and down, too, feeling every second like I was going to lose my balance and splat face-first into the water. But then, I supposed that would be another first.

  “My father taught me,” he said. “We vacation every Christmas in St. Croix. My whole family windsurfs.”

  “That’s cool,” I said.

  I couldn’t imagine my whole family doing anything together. Well, anything other than running away from a serial killer. My heart thumped at the thought of Steven Nell, but as fast as I could, I shoved it aside. I didn’t want to be afraid. Not now. Right now I wanted to try something new. I wanted to be free.

  The wind had just caught the sail, and all of a sudden we lurched ahead, headed out into the open bay. I pitched forward, but Aaron quickly locked his arms close to my sides, squeezing my shoulders to steady me, and I was able to right myself.

  “Lean back!” he shouted to be heard over the wind. “Lean into me.”

  I did as I was told, letting my body graze his.

  “Not enough!” he shouted. “You have to trust me, Rory. Lean into me.”

  I gulped down my fear, let my elbows relax, and leaned back. Instantly I could feel the difference. The board was more balanced and I felt ten times safer with my body against his.

  “There you are,” he said. “Keep your knees bent so if the board jumps you can absorb the impact.”

  I relaxed my knees. The board jumped and hopped, but it wasn’t long before I found the rhythm and we were moving together like pros. Or at least like we’d done this before.

  “In a little bit, I’ll teach you how to tack, but for now, just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The sun was warm on my face even as the wind whipped my wet hair back from my eyes. Aaron had complete control of the board, and I relaxed just a bit on the sail. I gazed off at the horizon, taking in the blue sky, the diving seagulls, the salty tanginess of the water. We jumped a particularly big wave, and I let out a shout of joy, giving myself over to the ride.

  An hour later, I staggered up the bay beach and dropped on my side into the warm sand. Every muscle in my body was jelly. My shoulders ached. My feet were on fire. My face was so windburned I was going to need a galloon of aloe. But I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

  Aaron dropped, sprawled out next to me, and rolled over onto his back, letting out a satisfied groan.

  “You can’t tell me that wasn’t the most fun you’ve ever had in your life,” he said, squinting one eye as he looked over at me.

  I pushed myself up onto my quivering elbows and looked at our two windsurfing boards, which were being hauled out of the water at the shoreline by the rental crew.

  “You’re right. I can’t tell you that,” I said.

  I sat all the way up and tipped my head back to watch the clouds chase each other across the sky. Sand clung to every inch of my wet suit, and my face prickled with windburn, but I’d never felt better in all my life. I felt accomplished. I felt free. I felt alive.

  “Thanks for bringing me out here,” I said. “I needed this.”

  There were green and gold flecks in his brown eyes and a streak of sand stuck to his cheek. “Any time, Rory Thayer.”

  My pulse stopped. Aaron was my new friend, and yet he didn’t even know my real name or anything about where I came from. But that was a good thing, I reminded myself. That meant I was safe. That he was safe. And as I lay there, the sun warming my body and the soothing honeysuckle-scented air enveloping my senses, I thought maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out okay.

  As soon as my sneakered foot stepped through the door of the Thirsty Swan on Monday night, I wanted to turn around and go home. Every last one of the wooden tables was jam-packed with people and every person in the place looked to be twenty-five or younger. The music was loud, conversations were held at a shout, and every so often a raucous round of laughter would burst forth from some corner of the room. Three walls were completely made up of screen windows overlooking the bay, and the cool breeze circulated throughout the room, mixing the salty sea air with the scents of frying foods and spilled beer.

  “This is awesome!” Darcy cried, watching as two guys at the bar raced through a set of shot glasses, each filled with a dark brown liquid.

  “Actually, I think it’s kind of illegal,” I replied, as one of the guys woozily slammed his last shot glass down. Everyone around him cheered, including Fisher and Kevin. The kid looked to be about fourteen years old. I scanned the crowd for Aaron, but he was nowhere to be found. I’d mentioned it to him this afternoon, but apparently he was smart enough to avoid this particular scene.

  “Rory!” Joaquin shouted from behind the bar. He leaned into the counter as we approached, and smirked. “I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

  I felt Darcy stiffen next to me.

  “Actually, I’m only here to be Darcy’s wingman,” I said. “You remember Darcy, right?” I added pointedly, gesturing at my sister.

  “Loyalty. I like it,” he said, ignoring my dig. “Hey, Darce,” he said, lifting his chin at her. “Why don’t you guys have a seat?” He gestured toward three free stools at the end of the bar. Krista waved at us from the fourth, next to the wall.

  “Hey, guys,” she said, patting the stool to her left. “Saved you a seat, Ror.”

  Darce? Ror? Really? Hadn’t we just met these people?

  I sat down next to Krista while Darcy took the stool at the far end, leaving one open between us. It made me feel conspicuous and awkward, which was probably what she was hoping for. Tristan was busy cutting limes at the back counter. In front of him was a huge mirrored wall, lined with long shelves full of liquor bottles. He didn’t say hello or even look up from his task. Joaquin turned sideways and slipped by him, then leaned one hand into the bar in front of me. His leather bracelet clung to his skin so tightly it looked uncomfortable.

  “What can I get you?” he asked.

  “Water, please,” I said.

  “Whatever you have on tap,” Darcy responded, slipping off her leather jacket.

  “You got it,” he said with a smile.

  “You’re going to serve her?” I asked, surprised.

  “Rory!” Darcy said, glaring at me.

  Tristan looked over briefly, caught my eye, then went back to his limes.

  “He serves everybody,” Krista said with a shrug. She looked like a supermodel in a colorful maxi dress, tasteful jewelry, and, of course, her leather bracelet. As i
f noticing my stare, she placed her hand over the leather band. “That’s our Joaquin.”

  “Not my job to tell people what they can and can’t do,” Joaquin replied, filling a beer stein to the brim. “But I like that you have a healthy sense of morality, Rory.”

  Krista smiled at this, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they were making fun of me somehow. With a sigh, she withdrew a coin from her pocket and held it upright on the counter with the tip of her finger. As she flicked it to make it spin, I noticed it wasn’t any regular American coin. It was about the size of a quarter, but light bronze in color, and I wondered what country it came from. Were the Parrishes world travelers? I didn’t have time to see the etching, though, before it was rotating across the counter. Tristan glanced over and his eyes widened slightly. He slapped his hand down over the coin and slid it back to her.

  “Don’t play with that,” he said through his teeth.

  She rolled her eyes and pocketed the coin. “Was that the hundredth time you’ve told me what to do today, or just the ninety-ninth?” she quipped. Tristan ignored her and went back to his work.

  I glanced at Darcy to see if she’d noticed the odd exchange, but she was too busy staring at Joaquin as he placed both our glasses down in front of us, then moved off to help someone else. Darcy sipped her beer, and I saw her trying not to wince. I forced myself not to roll my eyes and took a gulp of water.

  “So have you guys been to the general store yet?” Krista asked, turning to lean back against the counter now. It was as if she was working herself through a series of preset poses.

  “We went this afternoon,” Darcy replied, taking another sip.

  “Oh! Too bad I missed you,” Krista said with a small pout. “I would have hooked you up with free ice cream.”

  “You work there?” I asked.

  “Yep,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “Mom insisted I get a job. Gotta keep up ap—”

  Tristan tossed a towel at her face, where it clung to her hair and covered everything down to her mouth. She pulled it off slowly, turning bright red.

  “Thanks a lot, bro,” she said sarcastically, whipping it back at him. He snatched it out of the air and gave her a warning look. “He thinks family matters should stay in the family,” she explained.