Unraveling Isobel (7 page)

I slid across the floor and jumped onto the stage. I looked over the empty room. It was irresistible. I broke out into song and added some killer dance moves.

When I finished the song, I flung my arms up before giving a bow. “Thank you, Seattle!”

I danced back across the floor, topping it off with a long slide into the gallery. That's when I heard clapping.

Oh shit.

Across the hall, a door was open. I took a few steps forward and peeked in. Unlike the rest of the wing, this room looked lived in. This had to be the library. The room was two stories tall and had floor-to-ceiling bookcases complete with a ladder that rolled around on a rail hung on the wall. There were a few leather club chairs scattered around. From where Nathaniel was sitting he could see out the door and across the hall, into the ballroom. He clapped slowly. My face flushed and suddenly the
room didn't seem cold anymore. It felt like my ears were going to burst into flames.

“It's rude to spy on people. Why didn't you say anything?” My voice came out screechy.

“You wouldn't have heard me over your singing. I have to say, what you lack in talent you make up for with enthusiasm.” He smiled.

“I didn't think anyone was home.” The words squeezed out between my clenched teeth.

“I figured.” He looked at my face and then stood up. “Don't be mad. I'm not making fun of you.”

“Really?” I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked my head so that he could pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. I might not be able to sing, but I could smell mockery a mile away.

“Okay, fair enough. You're embarrassed and I made it worse. Do you want me to do something embarrassing to even the score? You want me to sing?”

Was he serious? The idea of him singing to me
was
surprisingly enticing. Unless he was up to something sneaky to make me feel even more humiliated. “Is this where you sing in an effort to make me feel better, but it turns out that you actually sing really well, so instead of feeling better, I actually feel worse?” I guessed.

He must have heard the skepticism in my voice, because he gave me a half smile. “I promise I'm a bad singer.”

“Horrid or merely bad?”

He seemed to think it over. “I'm not sure. I've never sung for anyone else before.”

That surprised me a little. “No church choir?”

“We were never a big churchgoing family.”

“And you're willing to sing for me just to even the score?” Nathaniel was getting more intriguing by the minute.

“I feel like we've gotten off on the wrong foot.” He looked down at his shoes. “Part of that might have been my fault.”

“Might have been?” That was an understatement. He'd given me the impression he preferred we stay out of each other's way as much as possible until I left for college.

“Completely my fault.” His eyes met mine, and I swallowed hard, aware suddenly of how blue his eyes were. I think I would have forgiven him for anything in that moment. Almost as if he'd read my mind, he broke the tension with a smile. “In fact, it's probably also my fault there's global warming and a shortage of honeybees. I apologize for that too.”

I smiled back. “Don't think I'm letting you off for the global-warming thing, but for what it's worth, I hate bees.” I walked past him and sat in his chair. It was still warm. He tossed me a worn quilt that had been on the floor and then sat down across from me. I picked up the book he had been reading, “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Poe. “You hang out in abandoned parts of houses just waiting for people to make idiots of themselves?”

“That was just luck. I would hang out here regardless. It's my favorite place.”

I couldn't blame him. The room was huge but somehow felt cozy at the same time. In addition to the collection of worn, scarred leather chairs, there was a worn forest-green velvet chaise longue that sat under the big window at the end of the room. There was a stacked fieldstone fireplace that looked large enough to crawl around inside. There were candles on almost every flat surface, and I imagined how pretty they'd look at night. All in all, it was the kind of room I could enjoy hanging out in.

“It sucks this part of the house is shut off,” I said.

“I sort of like it. Keeps it more private.”

“And cold.”

“And cold,” he agreed. “I'll start a fire.” Nathaniel stood and started to stack some wood in the fireplace. Either he had spent some time in the Boy Scouts or he had some specialized fire-building training. In no time flat he had the logs stacked expertly, with tightly twisted sheets of newspaper beneath them. God, he was good looking
and
handy. A thought occurred to me.

“I bet you're, like, king of the senior class here, huh?” I asked.

Nathaniel looked surprised. “Me?” He laughed. “Hardly. It's sort of hard to fit in unless you've been here forever.”

“But you were born here, right? Your family, like, founded the island. Just how far back do people have to go before they decide you fit in?”

He lit a match and touched it to the newspaper under the logs. Once the paper caught fire, he blew on the small flame until it started to grow. “I didn't go to school here until last year.
My parents sent me to boarding school out in Massachusetts.”

“Get out!” I tried to picture it. “Did you have to wear short pants with a blazer and tie?” I scootched to the end of my seat while I waited for his answer.

“We didn't wear short pants.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “We did have ties, though, and the blazers with the fancy crest on the lapel.”

“Let me guess, your dad went to the same boarding school?”

“And my grandfather, too.”

I nodded. I could imagine Dick wandering around the grounds of a school full of picture-perfect brick buildings and trees where the leaves fell in color-coordinated piles.

“So why did you transfer here?”

“My mom was never a big fan of boarding school. I think she was behind the decision to have me move back.” He brushed wood fibers from his pants. “Plus, stuff was getting hard for her with my sister, and I think she wanted the help.” He sighed. “It was difficult as Evie got older. She had a hard time communicating. It made her frustrated. She'd throw tantrums.”

“My mom mentioned that she had a disability.”

“The doctor screwed up when Evie was born. The cord was wrapped around her neck and she was deprived of oxygen,” he explained, still crouched beside the fireplace. “The doctor had been on the golf course drinking before he went to the hospital to deliver my sister. He didn't notice some of the readings on the monitor, so she was without oxygen long enough to cause
brain damage. My parents sued him and won, but no amount of money was going to make her the way she would have been.”

“That sucks,” I said, stating the obvious.

“She had all sorts of problems with impulse control and communication. No matter how old she got, she was still like a two-year-old. She'd start crying or pick her nose in public. She'd wander off if you weren't paying attention. She could talk, but it wasn't always easy to figure out what she was saying.”

Even though I was curious to hear more, I didn't want to pry. “That must have been hard,” I said simply.

“Yeah. My mom was great with Evie, but my dad didn't have the patience. He'd get mad that she wasn't doing what he thought she should do and then mad at himself for being annoyed. Evie would pick up on those feelings and it would ramp her up further.” Apparently satisfied with the fire, Nathaniel stood and brushed his hands off. “Anyway, I ended up moving back home.”

“So much for my plan of riding your coattails to the heights of popularity, huh?” I asked.

He lost his serious look and managed a smile. “If you want to be popular, believe me, you'd be better off pretending you don't know me.”

The room was warming up as the fire grew larger, and we sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the popping sounds and the flickering glow.

“You know, I think you're forgetting something if you want me to feel at home,” I said.

Nathaniel started and then looked around. He gestured at a bag of cookies on the side table next to him. “Oh, sorry, you want some?”

“No, as I remember, you promised to sing for me.”

He looked dubious. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” I inwardly winced at my word choice, but pressed on. “You saw my humiliation and you offered—in fact, as I remember it, it may have been a promise—to even the score.”

“I made you a fire.” Nathaniel motioned to the fireplace with a flourish.

“Nice fire.” I smirked. “Start singing, boarding-school boy.”

“I don't know any songs,” he protested, trying to weasel out of it with a pleading puppy dog pout. I pointed to the center of the room, and he must have realized that I wasn't the kind to give up easily. Resigned, he stood up and cleared his throat. If I wasn't mistaken, he was blushing a bit. “All right, but remember, you asked for it.”

“Less warnings, more singing.” I flopped back in my seat and waited. “Pick a song from your heart.”

He stood in the center of the room and thought for a moment, and then belted out, “
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose
.”

I broke into giggles. He was right, he was closer to horrible than to merely bad. His voice warbled and sort of broke here and there. It was like a bad talent-show audition. At least he was giving it his all. As he got to the end of the song, he went
down on one knee to really bring it home.

“Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, you'll go down in hissssstooooorrrry!”

I gave him a standing ovation.

“Nicely done. I could tell you were one with the song.” I linked my hands to show the connection.

“I think that's because I get the whole emotion of being left out of reindeer games.”

“Ah, but don't forget the important part. In the end Rudolph is the hero. He's the one who lights the way for everyone.”

Nathaniel snorted. “I'm not sure I'm much of the hero type, but that counts, right? We're starting over. Even?”

“Even.” We reached to shake hands, and as soon as we touched, it felt like a current ran between the two of us. My heart sped up. Our eyes met. Nathaniel cleared his throat, and I realized he was trying to take his hand back and I was holding on to it with a death grip. I dropped his hand like it was a burning log. Oh God, I was turning into a stepbrother groper. He was nice to me, and the next thing he knew, I was hanging off him like a parasite. He was most likely grateful I hadn't thrown myself at his face for a tongue kiss.

I looked around desperately for something to change the subject. Then I saw it, a giant brass telescope facing out the window. “A telescope! I love these things,” I yelled out. I ran over to it and peered through the eyepiece, gasping in surprise as the ocean jumped into perfect view. There was a ferry coming around
the island and I could pick out individual people standing on the deck. “Wow. This is like being a pirate. I feel like Captain Hook.”

“You should keep an eye out for humpback whales. They travel through here this time of year on their way from Alaska. Sometimes you can see them.”

“Really? That's pretty cool. Sort of rude to spy on them, though, don't you think?” I raised an eyebrow. “Admit it, do you have a thing for whales?”

“I guess I never worried about being a whale stalker before. I promise to leave them unmolested from now on. But not the honeybees.” Nathaniel flopped back down in his chair and flipped his book open. “Feel free to grab a book and cookie.”

I saw a copy of the novel
Vanity Fair
on a shelf and pulled it out. Nathaniel passed me the cookie bag and I picked out a few. He draped his legs over the arm of the chair and started reading. I did the same, trying to look casual, but I couldn't forget how it had felt to touch his hand.

I peeked up from
Vanity Fair
. There was no doubt about it. I was falling for my stepbrother. Long term this would likely result in my ending up on a tacky daytime talk show with other people who had an unnatural love for their relatives, but for now, it felt good. We sat eating cookies and reading for the whole afternoon. Having someone you can talk to is cool, but it's been my experience that it is a lot harder to find someone you can be quiet with. Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all.

Chapter 8

I
had assumed it would be hard to start at a new school for my senior year. However, I had completely underestimated just how craptastic it really would be.

Within twenty minutes of walking through the door, it was clear to me that everyone there had known each other since birth. Most likely their great-grandparents had gone to school together a zillion years ago, shortly after having enjoyed their trip on the
Mayflower
. I had the feeling that the terms “new kid” and “welcome wagon” weren't used very often around here.