The Storm and the Darkness (33 page)

Your daughter and her friend should both be dead,
the doctor said.
It’s a miracle…unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

Yes,
thought Augustus,
I’ve seen a miracle or two in my time.

By the time Nicolas had called him from the hospital, Augustus was already making arrangements. He had traveled north with the family doctor, and their lawyer was also staying nearby. His niece, Adrienne, had been a complete mess, so his first order of business upon arrival had been to send Oz promptly back home. The police wanted Oz to stay longer, but Augustus had seen to it that Oz was released and there would be no further questioning in Maine.

Now it was just Augustus and Nicolas standing vigil in her room…and occasionally that tall, quiet fellow, Jonathan. The nurse said that he had medical experience, but wasn’t a doctor.

“Tell me, what kind of person has ‘medical experience’ but is not a doctor?” Augustus had demanded.

“The kind that is as unique and different as Jonathan St. Andrews,” she simply said. “But he saved your daughter’s life, so I’d say that his ‘medical experience’ came in handy.”

This was true. If not for this odd, quiet man, Ana might not have survived long enough to heal herself. Although if not for him, she might also not be in this situation.

Oz had laid the entire story out, with Nicolas, Jon, and Ana all backing him up. Even with their matching accounts, the Portland police had been skeptical that the middle-aged overseer was capable of all they were suggesting. Then the sheriff of Summer Island had stepped in, insisting that Alex Whitman had long been on his radar for several heinous crimes, and that he was not the
least
bit surprised. This was followed by Sheriff Horn’s ceremonious visit to Alex’s house, where a room was found, filled with peculiar artifacts and articles about a number of women who had died mysteriously.
Ayuh, I knew it all along,
the portly sheriff had insisted.
 

“In that case, I will look for you to assume culpability for the injuries inflicted upon my daughter,” Augustus snapped, promptly shutting the sheriff’s prideful boasting.

One evening, Jonathan had walked in. Augustus felt distrust for him, mainly originating from distrust of their story. Whatever had actually transpired, he had saved Ana, and for that reason alone, Augustus did not ban him from visiting.

The man’s brother, Finn, had not woken yet. Ana had been in and out of consciousness, but Augustus was not worried. This was just her body’s healing process, and she was long past the point of mortal concern.

“We should really consider moving them into the same room,” Jon tentatively suggested, going on to clarify, “Both ask about the other when they are awake.”
 

Augustus rejected the idea. If the boy was the reason she had neglected her family, then he wouldn’t encourage or reward it.

When Augustus didn’t respond, Jon added, “They say she will be able to go home soon.”

“They say a lot of things,” Augustus said, venting a small measure of his ire, “but I have little confidence in the care she has received in this facility.”

“It was the best we could do under the circumstances,” Jon apologized. His hands were in his pockets; he looked uncomfortable and out of place in the room. Augustus watched Jon gaze at Ana, and a disturbing realization came over him.
Both brothers? For shame, Ana. I raised you better than this.

“Your brother is coming along, I assume.” Augustus was not eager for conversation, but he was at least skilled in finding words when he needed them. Conversing with someone you weren’t fond of was slightly less offensive than waiting in awkward silence with them.

“Not as well as we’d like,” Jonathan admitted. Augustus realized he hadn’t followed the other boy’s progress, but he had naturally assumed he’d be doing well enough. “The infection has spread and they may need to operate again.”

“I’ll pray for his recovery,” Augustus dutifully responded. That’s what everyone said in the South. I’ll pray for your health, for your finances, for your children, for your new job. Augustus never said prayers, himself. He knew that it was your duty to say you would, nonetheless.

“Thank you.” Jon sat on the other side of Ana’s bed. He pretended to look out the window, but Augustus was old, not blind. He could see the pain in Jon’s face as he watched her. “If you wanted to go stretch your legs or get a bite to eat, I could stay here for a bit,” Jon added.

And leave you alone with her? I think not
. “Thank you, but Nicolas is tending to my dinner and I got a walk in earlier.”

Jonathan nodded as if to say, very well. He stood to leave, but Augustus did not miss him graze her arm with his hand and the small, sad smile on his face. Augustus never missed much. He realized there was far more to the story with these two. “Please, reconsider the request to move them together. They might both heal faster,” Jon said. The look he gave him made Augustus wonder how much Jon St. Andrews knew about the Deschanels.

“Tell me exactly, why is it you are concerning yourself with moving them together, when you are clearly in love with my daughter yourself?”

Augustus had taken Jonathan off guard with that. The boy first blushed, then pursed his lips, looking almost angry. “With all due respect, Ana is a great girl. But I am not in love with her.”

“With all due respect, yes, you are.”

Jonathan’s face showed his range of emotions quite clearly. Augustus had a lot of experience reading people, and he read a tremendous amount of conflict in the boy. Jonathan spoke slowly, carefully selecting his words. “She is not mine to love.”

“My daughter belongs to no one,” Augustus said evenly. “Not you, not your brother.”
Not even me.

“I understand, but she has made her choice. I can and will respect that.”

Augustus could not help feeling a twinge of pitiful admiration for the boy. His concern for Ana was apparent since the day Augustus had arrived, and yet he cared enough for her that he would give her up for the happiness of another. That was an admirable trait. Selflessness was so rare these days. “Very well, then. I’ll have them moved together, if the doctors will allow it.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan said quietly, and left.

It had been a week since they released Ana, but she had not left the hospital. Her father was angry with her, but she could live with that. He did not understand why she wouldn’t return home to New Orleans. He had cautioned her that Finn may have a lengthy recovery. And now he had slipped into a coma that he might never come out of. She was angry that no one had moved Finn into her room sooner, but how could she tell people that she could have healed him?

“He matters to me,” is all she would say. Her father shook his head so much over the matter she thought it might fall clean off his shoulders.
 

“He might never come out of that bed. You have a life to lead, Anasofiya. You have a future that you have to think of. You hardly know that boy,” he alternately cajoled and bullied, until he was near blue in the face. “We both know your abilities are...rather one sided.”

“I healed him once before,” she declared boldly. “He might be dead if not for me.”

“He’s not your responsibility. Or your future.”

“My future
is
here. At least for now,” Ana insisted. “This is what I need to do.”
I know you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to. I’ve done a lot of things...terrible things...because I didn’t understand myself enough. Now I have a chance to put that all behind me. I care deeply for Finn, and when I was in a coma he never left my side. I will not repay that kindness by leaving him now. I can save him. I have saved him. He needs me.

But she would never say all of that to her father, ever.

“Your choices are entirely illogical,” her father capitulated. “I will not pretend I agree with them. But you are thirty years old, and I am under no illusion that I have any authority in the matter.”

And so he had left; not necessarily on bad terms, but there would need to be some healing there, for both of them. Ana loved her father very much. If he had raised her with more warmth, she might have thrown herself into his arms and told him as much. Instead, she took his hands in hers, squeezed, then let him go.

She still had trouble wrapping her head around the events of that night. Especially Alex’s transformation. It was fuzzy and surreal, as if recalling a dream from long ago. She knew one day it would hit her, and that she would be traumatized all over again, but she was grateful for some relief from it now.

No one would tell her what happened to Alex. Jon would only say, “We took care of it,” but refused to elaborate. A part of her knew. The other part of her was glad not to know.

At least her father had agreed to fund the restoration of the lighthouse. Her request had not been fueled by her care for Alex, as she had once envisioned, but her desire to give the island community some needed closure.
 

Seeing Nicolas and Oz appear at the house in their moment of need had been strangest of all. She should have known Nicolas would not sit back idly without hearing from her, but seeing him was no less shocking. And Oz...why had he come? Guilt?

Oz stopped by her room before he left to go back to New Orleans.
 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a seat near the bed.
So casual…as if there wasn’t this sordid history between us.

“You know me. Good as new.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Oz said, distantly. Ana sensed there were things he wanted to say.

“Thank you for coming out,” she offered. “I appreciate what you did. You didn’t have to.”

“I did have to,” he asserted. He looked at her; his green eyes were large, and sad. “I’m sorry, for everything. I didn’t mean for things to end up like this.”

“We never do, Oz. But all we can do is try to move forward. And there’s nothing to be gained from dwelling on it.”

He nodded, but there was more behind his eyes. “I care deeply for you, Ana. I always have, so I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or that there was something wrong with you. We all have our demons.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know,” he said. His voice was hoarse. He got up from the chair and leaned over her; his lips brushed hers in the briefest of kisses. Then, he stood and moved toward the door.

Pausing with a sigh, he looked at her one last time. “You should know that Nicolas knows about us now. I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. If it helps, I think he blames me.”
 

Then, Oz bowed his head and left, leaving her staring at the door in shocked silence.

For a week, Ana had sat by Finn’s bedside. She had read to him, talked to him, told him all the stories of
her
childhood. She did all of the things he had so selflessly done for her when she had been hurt. And she did not do them alone.

Jonathan had not left his brother’s side. When it was time to eat, they would rotate whose turn it was to go get food. They found ways to ensure that Finn was never alone. The hospital had brought in a couple of fold out chairs for them to sleep in. Finn was moved into a larger, more private room, once the worst of the immediate concerns were resolved.
 

And still, Nicolas did not visit.
You should know that Nicolas knows about us now.
The words haunted her, and hung heavy over her heart.
He should have been my first visitor. He should have been here the moment I woke up.
 

Jon told her that Nicolas hadn’t left for New Orleans yet. That he was harassing the doctors regularly, and generally being obnoxious. But he had not come in to see Ana.

She was fooling herself to believe she ever intended to tell him about what happened with Oz. It was a lovely thought, that she would come clean one day and clear the air. But deep down she knew that it would never happen. That her advice that Oz take it to the grave was for her, too.

Then, Oz had done it for both of them.

Ana should feel better with that heavy lie no longer lying between them, but instead she felt as if she had lost the only thing that ever mattered to her. No matter what else had come at her in life, there was always Nicolas, holding her hand; believing in her, understanding her, encouraging her. Loving her.

Please just come see me. I just need to know what you’re thinking.

His silence told her all she needed to know.

“
It is a far, far better thing that I do now, than I have ever done. It is a far greater rest I go to now, than I have ever known
,” Ana whispered, closing A Tale of Two Cities. “I am determined that you will get all the classics as long as I am here, or until they kick me out,” she joked.

“Finn always did like to read,” Jonathan said, his gaze still fixed on the movie that was playing.

“Really?” Ana was surprised, but pleasantly so. She smiled to herself.
Maybe we do have a few things in common.

Finn was still wearing the two crosses around his neck. The nurse wanted to remove them, but Ana insisted they remain; they weren’t hurting anything and she thought that maybe they even helped him.
 

“I know you said he probably doesn’t know I am doing this, but I can’t help myself. I know I can’t sit around and do nothing,” Ana explained. She stopped herself, remembering that Jonathan was one of the few people she didn’t have to explain herself to. She was so used to having to rationalize everything with others that it was habit.

“He’s very lucky,” Jon affirmed, but there was something in his voice that she couldn’t quite detect. It had been there a lot since she decided to stay, and she wished he were an easier read.
Or maybe I really don’t want to know.

“I’m doing no more than what he has already done for me,” Ana insisted.

“You love him,” Jon stated. It wasn’t a question, but he was watching her closely for her response.

“I…I don’t know what it feels like to be in love,” she admitted, and the admission was a shock even to her.