Catalyst, Book One - Chapter Eleven - "Straight Talk"

Chapter Eleven (Straight Talk)

"I thought I was supposed to come meet you?"

She grabbed her purse off the floor in front of my seat and shoved it on the seats behind us. "Thought I’d save you another half hour walk," she joked, motioning me to buckle up. "It’s good to see you."

"It's good to see you too." My seatbelt clicked into place. "What errands are we running before dinner?"

"It’s not really an adventure," she confessed. "I hope you aren’t too disappointed, but I thought we might drive up to Port Townsend for dinner and stop in to see Calen."

"Ca- your husband?"

We pulled off Hemlock and onto the highway. The radio was playing a soft classical aria, and she turned the volume down a bit before she spoke again.

She looked amused at my confusion. "He works in Port Townsend as a biochemist."

"Right. So he doesn’t live here then?"

"He does part time. It’s just easier for him to have a place up there than to commute every day."

"Yeah, that would be a long drive. For some reason, I thought you and he had-"

"Divorced?"

"Or separated. So much for rushing to conclusions."

"I let you draw those conclusions on purpose. I let everyone draw those conclusions. I should be sorry." Her face got noticeably more serious. "Of all people, I should trust you with the truth, and I do. I just didn‘t think that we‘d become friends so quickly." She smiled and peered through the windshield at the tiny raindrops pelting the glass. "I’m-faking-a-divorce-with-my-husband isn‘t really a first lunch type conversation."

"I get it. Totally understand." I grumbled as I rolled up my window. "I just hate not knowing anything about this place." I scooted awkwardly in my seat. "I mean, I didn't even know Dad grew up here! It's lame he never told me anything."

Celine laughed into the steering wheel. "My darling, you have no idea."

"Well, we have a long drive ahead of us. Spill it," I said. "I want to know everything, explain it all."

"Everything will have to wait for another day. Your father gets that task, and I don't envy him," she said, sighing. "But I'll tell you what I can."

"Deal," I said, adjusting my position to look at her.

"Where do I begin?" she murmured to herself. "I came to live with Sullivan, Becca, and Meg when I was seven years old. My mother had been friends with Becca since childhood. We had lived in Seattle, but when my parents were killed in an accident, the house was auctioned off and I was sent to them because I had nowhere else to go."

I cleared my throat to break the silence that had filled the car. "That’s awful," I finally said.

"It was, but I was such a little kid that I can barely remember them at all. What I do remember," she said with a smile, "is moving into this wonderful, magical house. Meg was five years old, and so I all of a sudden had this little sister – more like a permanent play mate. We ran wild through the woods, played in the barn, rode horses, played on the beach. We were home schooled until high school. We took the bus to Chimacum High School near Port Townsend for the first time that September – it was very exciting."

"That’s quite a mouthful," I laughed.

"Quite a mouthful, and quite a trip. Almost an hour to and from school with all the stops."

"That’s horrifying," I said. "School must have been torture!"

"School was quite the shock, I’ll agree with you there. But the rides to and from on the bus were so much fun – the highlight of the day in fact."

"You’re kidding."

"No not at all. That’s where Meg and I met your father in fact."

"Dad went to high school here?"

"You really don’t know anything about this place," she said disapprovingly. "Your father lived up here from the time he was born until the time he married Reena," she said. "The three of us were close. He spent a lot of time at the Inn with us. Sullivan and Becca treated him like a son."

"Finally some straight answers! So what happened to make him leave?" I asked.

She shrugged. "He had different plans than what everyone expected. He had dreams. He wanted to be a pilot, and decided to go to aviation school. He met Reena at the school, she followed him on a job to California and that’s where they started a life. That’s where your brother was born."

"I knew that one. Eli was born in San Diego and I was born after they moved back here."

"I see."

"Were Calen and Dad friends too?"

"Actually, Calen and Ricky didn’t know each other until after I was married. Ricky left and Cal moved into what is now our house – we were all 18. You should have seen the house then!" she said, glancing at me. "It was a mess. The Chadwick family hadn’t lived there for years and years."

"Why wasn’t anyone there?" I wondered.

"That, my dear, opens an entirely new issue altogether."

"If it has anything to do with you, and your family, it’s not a new issue," I pouted. "You said you would tell!"

She waved me off. "Alright, alright. Many years ago, the Chadwicks and the Whitfields were very close families. William Whitfield and Byron Chadwick were the heirs to the respective families, and were also playmates – had been since they were born. The Whitfields owned and operated the Inn – still do of course, and the Chadwick family lived on and managed the estate," she glanced over again to see that I was following. "As they grew, Byron joined his father as a groundskeeper while Will and his father ran the Inn. Together, the boys ran the town. They were hotshots to say the least," she said with a wink. "When they were 18 or so, Byron proposed to his sweetheart. Her name was Ava Tremaine and she and Byron had been in love since they were kids. Will eventually married Ava’s best friend, Caroline Garner. It was an ideal situation for everyone except Caroline. She didn’t love Will, but he was a good opportunity for her and she would have been a fool not to do it. The two couples were very close and eventually inherited the Inn and continued the work relationship between families. A few years later, when Ava was expecting their first child, Byron built her a home – the one our family still lives in today. Ava had a very difficult childbirth and was unable to conceive after her son was born, but the Whitfields had a son just Owen’s age and two younger daughters and the whole clan acted like one giant family. Years later, Owen and Will Jr. were the ones running wild like their fathers had. The two girls, Addison and Marcheline were eight years old when it happened, four years younger than the boys."

"When what happened?" I asked, complete engrossed in the story.

"There was a fire in the barn out behind the house. The girls died that night."

Goosebumps ran up my arms. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I shook the interruption out of my head and listened for her to continue.

"We were told that Byron got to the barn just in time to see Owen running inside to try and rescue the girls. If he had been a split second slower, Owen would have been lost too. Still to Byron, it was like he had just lost two of his own children.

"And that is what caused the families to fall out with each other?"

She nodded. "The story goes, that William was so angry and out of his mind that he claimed Byron was guilty of negligent homicide. He said Byron had left a lantern lit and that had caused the fire."

"But it was just an accident right?"

"In reality, no one knows how the fire started. But it really doesn't matter. What matters is that William betrayed Byron and his family in the greatest way he ever could. I don’t understand it, and I don’t know how it could have happened. After such a great loss, I don’t know what would make a man push away the only other people that he loved, but it happened. Maybe he was jealous of Byron’s family. I don’t know. But, from then on out, Will did everything he could to ruin their lives."

"What happened?"

"He claimed Byron had 'unusual' capabilities. He said that Byron could see things before they happened, that he could know when someone was lying or cheating or even as they got older, what they could get away with and what they couldn‘t. He propagated these exaggerations, telling them to whoever would listen. He ran them out of town. That was in the 19th century."

"So what? He knew magic or something?" I asked, disbelieving. "What kind of crap is that? It’s not even original. Why would anyone believe it?"

"You have to understand, at that time, the worst thing you could do was claim someone as having abilities that made them spiritually abnormal. They were so afraid of anything different than Christianity, and saying Byron had some sort of weird ability was the same thing as denouncing his religious faith."

"Like witch trials in Salem?"

"Exactly like the Witch Trials. He and his family were ostracized completely from society. No one would ever treat them the same again. They either had to live like that, or move somewhere that would allow them to start fresh. Not only that, but if he stayed, there was the possibility of a murder trial."

"And Calen was the first to come back?"

"Well by this time, those stories had become purely folklore – something we laughed off, or told kids to keep them off the old property. It didn't work," she said with bitterness in her voice. "Kids ransacked that place. But even Sullivan and Becca seemed relaxed and open talking about the legend, as it had become."

"Did they change after Calen came back?"

"You bet they did," she laughed loudly. "It was like night and day. The hate bubbled up just as though it were William and Caroline standing in front of me instead of the people I had come to call my parents."

"I bet they weren’t pleased when you brought him home for dinner!"

"That, my dear, definitely did not happen," she said, chuckling again.

"How did the two of you meet? You said he was 18, out of high school?"

"It was spring, so I had almost graduated from high school and was working at Scully’s as a waitress. He came in and had dinner the first night he came to town. We ended up talking until closing," she smiled as she remembered. "I had no idea who he was, I just knew him as Cal. We ran into each other everywhere after that – bookstores, Quinn’s, just out and about – everywhere. I wasn’t really interested in a relationship, but there was something different about him. Eventually I gave in and agreed to a couple of dates," she said, laughing softly. "We had fallen head over heels for each other by the time Sullivan and Becca ever even realized there was anything serious happening. When they found out who he was, Sullivan told me he would be caught dead before anyone under his roof married a Chadwick." She turned off the main highway and onto another side street.

"Did Calen know the story before he met you?" I asked.

"The poor guy had no idea. He even tried to talk to Sullivan. He wanted to marry me the right way. Sullivan told him to get lost, that the best thing he could do was leave."

"What happened then?" I was completely turned sideways in the seat, my leg had fallen asleep all the way to my thigh. I didn’t care.

"He left. He had been restoring the house and he just left everything as if he would have been coming right back. I showed up to the house one day as normal, and he was just gone. I knew instantly the only thing that would have driven him away so unexpectedly."

"But you went after him?" I smiled.

"I did. We had a trip planned for that next weekend, and I went to the place we were supposed to go together, hoping he would have done the same." She smiled out the windshield, the crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes forming as her cheeks rose.

How she could smile was beyond me. "What a wimp! He would just give you up, just like that? What ever happened to kids defying their parents?"

She smiled at my reaction. "I thought of it like that at first too, but I realized he never gave up on me – he gave up everything for my own good. Or what he thought was best for me. He gave up everything – the house, his livelihood – so that I could hate him for leaving me, could move on, start over and be normal. It was a test. If we both ended up there, that was honest and true."

"That could possibly be the cutest thing I've ever heard," I said, sinking back into my seat. I rolled the window down a little. "I wish that would happen to me."

She laughed, the light sound not matching the creases in her eyes. "What? A bunch of old people trying to repress you?"

"No. The love part," I cooed sarcastically.

"Well not so fast. So, in order to really set it all in stone," she began with a double fist pump, "we got married at the nearest courthouse right then and there. I think I must have been pregnant with Casey that afternoon," she laughed. "But when we went back home, I knew I had alienated my way out of another family."

I snorted. "Did you care? If they couldn’t see that you were happy, then what difference does it make?"

"Meg saw it. I think she did anyway." Both hands came off the wheel to do the bunny-eared quotation marks in the air. "Sisterly bond," she said with a smirk. "Sullivan and Becca though, they hate him, as if defining the word, and are in a strange limbo of love and hate for our children. On the one hand, they are the only 'grandchildren' they have ever known. Still, their lack of understanding or attempt to understand was what chased us away, nothing else. I’ll never be able to forgive them for treating Calen or my children in such a way."

"I don’t blame you. Wouldn’t you trust someone you had raised practically all their life enough to let them love who they wanted? I mean, you didn’t pick him out of a lineup because it would piss off your parents," I said. "Even still, if they thought it wasn’t a good choice or wasn’t safe for you, wouldn’t they want to stay as close as possible to make sure you were okay?"

"I can’t explain how they tick, Lana. All I know is that we had our kids, our house, and each other, but Cal couldn’t be himself. He felt like he ruined the life I had, and any chance we had to really be happy together. When the boys got big enough to fend for themselves a little, Cal decided to take a job up north. That way, he thinks, we can be a part of society a little easier than if he were still here with me."

"That is ridiculous! Now you don’t have anyone! Can’t Calen come home now that it would just be you two?"

"I have all my family, all the family in the world. I’m happy my kids have gone off to make lives for themselves."

"This is the craziest thing I‘ve ever heard," I said, shaking my head as we turned onto a side street right after the "Welcome to Port Townsend" sign.

We followed the road up a ways and pulled into an apartment complex.

"We’re here!" exclaimed Celine as she put the car in park. "You ready, now that you’ve been briefed?"

"No turning back now," I said, fumbling with my seatbelt.

Catalyst, Book One - Chapter Ten - "Long Days"

 

The next few days dragged on for what seemed like months. Back in the city, this leisure time wouldn't have seemed so dreadful with the world bustling around me outside. It was more a numbing sensation now – the closed off feeling in my throat whenever I thought about my past life had finally faded, to my relief. Now it was just empty – I couldn’t focus on anything, not that I needed to. There was nothing to focus on. I aimlessly wandered around the house, in a robotic routine. I would wake up and cook, then spend the rest of the day gardening or reading on the beach.

Celine and Carter were my salvation those first couple of weeks. Celine and I planted a bunch of pumpkin and sunflower seedlings that I bought during a day trip out to a nursery we had taken. We started a vegetable garden too. Carter had come down a few afternoons and helped me build two huge planter boxes out in the yard. One was for herbs – basil, parsley, chives, sage, oregano, and dill, and the other was for vegetables.

Carter became a friend almost as quickly as Celine had. We clicked immediately after I had come out of the house one afternoon to find myself bombarded by water balloons. Not to be outdone, I grabbed the garden hose and fired back. From then on, we were inseparable. His dog, a huge, pure white husky, shepherd mix named Koda, often came with him. I hadn't ever seen a bigger dog in my entire life. She wasn't bulky, but looked more wolf-like, tall and lanky. Despite her fierce appearance, Koda climbed into my lap right away; she was a sweetheart from the beginning.

When Celine and Carter were nowhere to be found, I occupied time by running or taking long walks. It was then that Koda became just as important a friend as Celine and Carter had. I would usually find her walking down Spruce street by herself as I ran passed on my daily run. Even though I ran at different times, she knew I'd be coming and would trot out right behind me and would follow the whole way. She would even stand at my side if I stopped to tie my shoe or rest – like she was protecting me. I would always turn onto Hemlock for the last leg of my run, and would kick into high gear. Koda ran along happily at my side, her mouth hanging open, her tongue wagging wildly out of the side of her mouth. Collapsing into the lawn, listening to my heart beating rapidly in my ears with that dog by my side was the only real time I was totally at ease those first few days. She was the first friend I felt totally normal with.

When I was alone all day, I found myself writing in my journal too. I had the one Dad had just given me filled within a week. I quickly concluded, as I re-read my entries, that I never needed any vacation. Being here felt permanent, not like a summer holiday.

When time turned to an anxious episode of cabin fever, I called Hollie and Sadie. But Hollie was setting up her new apartment and classroom in Maine, and Sadie, well God only knew where she was by now. I expected her gone for at least another month on her trip with Andrew.

Hollie should have at least called me back. She didn’t for almost three weeks. When she finally did call, we talked mostly about her. And why wouldn’t we? Nothing was new here. Still, I wanted to smack her. At least ask.

All the more reason why I was shocked one morning to see my cell phone vibrating its way towards the edge of the kitchen table. Sadie’s picture ID blinked across the screen as I snatched it. I was smiling ear to ear before I heard her high pitched voice. The smile faded when I heard her tone.

"I think after this trip I'm moving back up to Seattle," she said in a low voice.

"Thought you were excited for the change in scenery?"

"The change is scenery is good, but the company isn't so great."

"Andrew?"

"I'm going to break it off," she said, barely whispering.

"What happened?" I was shocked. Sure, I hated him, but I thought she was in love with him, despite his obvious faults.

"He’s cheating on me." She said it flatly, determined to keep emotion from her voice. "I could take the little quirks, the shit that he said or did every once in a while – the stuff that I know drove you nuts, but not this. I'm over it."

"Sadie Montgomery, I can't believe it. I'm so proud of you."

There was a silence on the other line.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "I needed to hear that. Mom is pissed."

Every interaction Hollie and I ever had with Sadie’s mom pushed us towards an unfortunate conclusion. Her mom is certifiably nuts. A loud, opinionated Italian woman who spoke very little English and likes to fight. Add crazy to the mix, and you had the most terrifying individual on the planet.

"Of course she is. She was practically planning your wedding." There was a muted giggle in the receiver as an idea burst into my head, the figurative light bulb exploding instead of just lighting up. "Come stay up here for a while if you want to – we have an extra bedroom." I had forcibly stripped all of the apprehension from my voice and apparently stored it in my left foot that nervously twitched against the leg of the table as I waited for her reply.

"I think I might. I'll call you in a couple days."

That was as good as a yes as I’d ever get from her and the excitement switched to both feet, propelling my knees in giddy bounces under the table. Still it was absent from my voice. It was happy for me, but completely earth-shattering for her. "I guess I don’t need to ask how the trip went then."

"That’s a face-to-face conversation."

"That bad?"

"I want to see your reaction." I made some sound of protest. "Got to go, Len. I’ll call in a couple of days."

If Sadie could actually wait to tell me, it must be something big.

I hung up the phone with a newfound enthusiasm, and sat there, thoughts of my own new relationships crossing behind my eyes.

Carter, bless his soul, was my brother-from-another-mother. Despite the fact that he worked every other second and was always on call, he and I hung out a lot; he and Celine saved me from teetering off the cliff side - suicide by boredom. Besides them, and the Whitfields, who I avoided like the plague, Cole was really the only other person I had met, and he was another story altogether.

The day after the kayak incident, I was sitting in the living room watching an old black and white Audrey Hepburn movie. I had just stuffed an entire piece of red vines candy into my mouth when Cole came bursting in through the back kitchen door, yelling for Dad. He hadn't seen me sitting in the living room yet, and he casually opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He cracked it open and strolled into the living room where he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Is Rick here?"

I would have laughed at him had my mouth not been so full. Did I have a scarlet "A" sewn into my dress? Or a third arm coming out of my forehead? I acted the exact same around Celine and Carter, and yet he was so… wary. I had quickly and painfully swallowed my mouthful and told him that Dad was out in the garage, barely finishing my sentence before he was out the door.

You weren't awkward when you were plucking me out of the Puget Sound, I thought, shoving another licorice vine in my mouth.

In the days to come, it became common place for Cole to burst through the back door like that. He obviously had been doing it for quite some time. Not only that, but Dad and Cole spent almost all their free time together.

They worked on the boat together in the garage.

They re-shingled the roof.

They worked on Dad's Camaro.

Both Dad and Cole would come in most afternoons, greasy and filthy from working on something mechanical. On cue, Dad would pull a plate of sandwiches (made by yours truly) out of the refrigerator, and hence would prompt the only interaction between Cole and me for the better part of the entire day.

"Thanks for lunch."

"No problem."

Then they’d vanish into the living room and then would come the loud sportscaster’s voice over the television.

Five weeks of this and I was about to go nuts.

Dad alternated his work schedule – one weekend at home, the next away on a trip.

He and his buddy, Tom, had just left for a weekend fishing trip that Thursday morning and the four of us, Cole, Carter, Dad and I had spent Wednesday afternoon getting them ready. Carter and I stocked coolers and the cabin of the boat, and Cole and Dad had finished rigging the trolling engine on the back of the speedboat.

Dad had said that we were welcome, but both guys had to work, and the last thing Dad needed was me coming between his "bro time." Poor Dad. He had been a bachelor so long, and a little adjusting to having a female back in the house was in order.

I rode in the back of the truck with Dad and Tom down to the boat launch that early Thursday morning. Dad was one of the only people left in town that even attempted this launch site, but after all this time, he could do it with little effort. After it was in the water, we loaded all the extra gear and I pushed them off the sand bank.

It was still early but I was wide awake, so after they had disappeared around the point, I drove Dad's pickup across the Hood Canal Bridge, into Port Gamble and stopped for a coffee. The familiar taste of the drink was comforting, and with nothing else to do, I drove onward to Kingston to spend the morning.

It was nice, wandering through the random shops of the tiny seaside town. It felt like a real neighborhood here, as opposed to our barely civilized neck-of-the-woods. Now, I walked past people, smiling into their unfamiliar faces. Maybe one day I would know them. Maybe one day I would walk into these shops and feel like I belonged here.

Now I was just a stranger.

Half way through the morning, I had a bouquet of farmer's market flowers under my arm and was just forcing myself out the door of a pet shop. Next door I found myself being pulled, as though by magnet, inside. It was the cutest bookstore I had ever seen. I smiled briefly at the lady at the counter before disappearing into the maze of bookshelves.

I found an old and tattered history of Port Gamble eventually. I settled into a corner bench and began to flip through the yellowed and dog-eared pages. At first, I was just reading for the sake of wasting time, but soon, I was scanning the pages feverishly – names, dates, black and white pictures – I felt like I was reading an old yearbook, like I knew these people and places already. Port Gamble, I knew, was a 19th century milling town but I had no idea that Port Ludlow had a history older than that.

I bought the book.

The glare of the sun shining through the window startled me all of a sudden. What time was it? My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket and I fished it out in a panic. It was the alarm that I had set for myself.

I had a date with Celine that afternoon and, with my new purchase under my arm, I trudged into the afternoon air and towards the truck. Walking and reading never worked well together, but I tripped along the sidewalk anyway, nose deep in the book. Names caught my attention – I didn't know what any of these people had to do with anything, but the feeling that I knew them already didn’t fade. Maybe Dad or Celine had mentioned them before.

At home, I changed my clothes and got ready to meet Celine at her house, but soon I saw her blue sedan pull into the driveway next to Dad’s Camaro. She beamed a smile through the windshield as I bounded out the door, excited for our evening.

Catalyst, Book One - Chapter Nine - "Beginning"

 

Monday morning. That first Monday was the first morning that I remember waking up feeling the faintly recognizable shadow of contentment. Sunshine was banking in through my window and onto my face. I was warm and sunken into my deep bed, the covers pulled up around my shoulders and head. I slept much better knowing Dad was so near. I slept better having all of my stuff in one tidy room. Knowing that whatever happened, whoever was gone, whoever was here, it would be okay. My mini tantrum from the night before didn't make my heart ache. I awoke with a new energy.

Until I heard a woman's voice downstairs.

My bedroom door was open a crack, and I listened intently, not moving a muscle. I knew one of them was Dad, so I relaxed, lazily stretched my arms over my head and slid out of my plush covers. What was I wearing? Soccer shorts and a black tank top. Presentable enough. I glanced at the clock as I pulled on a sweatshirt. It was only 9AM. Who was over this early?

I carefully stepped down the hallway, hoping to avoid as many creaky floorboards as I could. I stopped at the stairwell.

"How could you not have told me she was moving back here?" came a female voice. At first, I had been hopeful that the female voice might have belonged to Celine. I knew now that it wasn't.

"What did you expect from me, Meg? A telegram? I'm sorry. Tell me what I should have done." Dad sounded awfully defensive. I thought on turning back and going to my room.

"You were thoughtful enough to tell Celine. She's already met Lana. Rick, how could you tell her before me? You can’t let her be the only one to get through to her. It's not fair."

"Lana met her at the store!" Dad roared. "Furthermore, she absolutely will not be brought into the middle of this mess."

That was it. I thumped noisily down the stairs, giving them a chance to change the subject. Dad and Meg were standing behind the couch in the living room. I tried to act casual, bounding down the stairs with a false confidence.

"Hi," I exclaimed, trying to act surprised.

"You’re up," Dad said shortly, looking harshly at Meg. "Sorry if we woke you." I wasn’t even listening to him. Meg was standing there looking at me with the same blank expression that I felt on my face.

I noticed right away that she could look me right in the eyes. She's tall, I thought. Her medium tan complexion, and soft green eyes gave her away. She must be Becca's daughter.

"Lana, this is Meg Whitfield. She’s a good friend of mine," said Dad, affirming my suspicions.

"Hello," Meg said in a much friendlier voice than before.

"Hi Meg," I said with false enthusiasm. Another Whitfield. Hope this went better than the last night's ordeal.

"I’m so happy to finally meet you. Your father talks about you all the time," she said very slowly.

"It’s nice to meet you too," I said, shooting Dad a questioning look. Why hadn't he ever mentioned these people before? I hated looking like an idiot, like I had never heard of these people before. The least he could have done was brief me. "Dad doesn't really fill me in on the details of town, so I'm sorry. I don't really know anyone yet."

"I understand your frustration there. Your dad does tend to avoid details," she looked crossly at him. "But hopefully you will make some friends soon. In fact, the reason I came by this morning was to invite you both to dinner at the Inn." She must have caught my horrified expression. "Sometime in the next few weeks," she added quickly.

"We can do that," Dad mumbled, in a dreading tone.

"Good," she said to him. She turned back to me, "I'm happy you have met Celine already. And I'm sorry if you heard us arguing a minute ago. I'm just scared for what she has told you. My adopted sister's judgment has not always put her real family first."

I disliked Meg from then on. "I see," I said, folding my arms. "But isn't that a contradiction? An adopted family is not a real family, at least by your definition. Certainly not more real than a husband and children."

Dad rocked back on his heels, either from embarrassment or pleasure, I couldn't tell. Meg smiled. Not the reaction I had anticipated.

"I’m sorry," she said suddenly. "I shouldn't have brought that up."

I nodded in agreement.

"Dinner? Was this your idea, or Sully and Becca?" Dad interrupted.

"They told me they saw you two at dinner last night," she said.

"I’m sure they did. They didn’t do a very good job of hiding their surprise at seeing Lana either."

"It would make us all very happy to see you both at dinner, Ricky. Is that an answer enough for you?"

"Right," said Dad, suddenly sounding awkward. He gestured for Meg to take a seat on the couch, the argument now over.

I excused myself while they sorted out details. Back up in my room, I made my bed and then decided to forgo showering and instead dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, and went outside to load our yellow kayak into the back of my truck. I left the tailgate down, the end of the boat sticking out into the air. I yelled to Dad that I would be back in a few hours and, holding the handle of the kayak with one hand, I slowly steered the truck down to the boat launch. I had done this before. I had to keep a careful hold of the kayak while I backed down the ramp to keep it from sliding out and ending up in the water, out of reach. The winding ramp did not make this easy.

Somehow it all went smoother in my head. For one split second I let go of the handle to turn the wheel with both hands. Stupidly, at the same time I had stepped on the brake, jerking the car forwards and then back.

Too hard.

And there it went.

Faster than I could react, it slid out of my desperate reach, first slamming onto the concrete ramp and then torpedoing into the water. There was nothing I could do but watch it float away, mockingly bobbing up and down in the dark water.

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed, putting the truck in park and stomping the parking brake on.

The sun was perfectly blocking my view and I stood, swearing under my breath as I struggled to see. It would eventually be a warm day, but there was still a chill in the morning air – the water would be freezing no matter what. Even in the middle of August, the water was barely tolerable. Lake water was something people could handle around here, but only on the hottest of hot days could one swim in the Sound for more than two minutes without getting painfully cold.

I had no choice. I had to get the boat – Dad would kill me if I let it drift out into the shipping canal where it would inevitably be run over by a tanker or cruise liner. It was moving away from me, farther and farther with every passing second. The longer I stood and thought about it, the farther I would have to go. Cursing again, I stripped off my sweatshirt and slid out of my flip flops.

"You have got to be out of your mind." The voice came out of nowhere and it scared me out of my wits.

"And what else do you recommend?" I snarled to Cole as he strode down the ramp.

"I can bring my boat down from Salisbury Point. I’ll drag it in for you," he said trying to stifle laughter.

"I can’t wait for you to do that – it’ll be long gone by the time you get back here."

"You’ll catch hypothermia out there, you nut!" he yelled as I waded into the frigid water.

I held my breath and submerged myself. Better to get through the tough part quick. The water was so cold I had to fight back the urge to panic. Manually focusing on taking long regular breaths was all I could do to keep myself from hyperventilating. The water stabbed into my skin like thousands of little pins and it took ten or so painful seconds to even reach the stupid kayak.

Thankfully, I started to go numb as I dragged it back to shore. When I could stand, I did, taking tentative, inelegant steps across the clunky rock bottom. The air was freezing and I could feel the breeze sucking the remaining heat from my body in vicious gusts.

Cole had waded in up to his thighs, and grabbed my arm when he could, to steady my trembling body. I let him open my frozen hand and take the tow rope from me. With one swift movement, he had the kayak over his shoulder, and gracefully maneuvered it, still dripping wet, into the tailgate of the Bronco.

"You get crazier every time I see you," he said, tossing my sweatshirt back to me. "You gonna make it?"

I managed to crack a smile through my chattering teeth. I made for the driver’s door, but he protested, blocking my path with his arm.

"I don’t think so," he said, pushing me around the tailgate to the passenger’s side.

"It’s MY car!" I said through a quivering jaw.

"Look at you! You can’t stop shaking," He laughed, still pushing me to the door. "Just don’t argue for once and get in."

"Fine."

"You’re welcome."

"Thank you," I grumbled again. This would be the second time I came home with Cole, and I was in no mood for questions from Dad. He had his own explaining to do.

"What were you doing out here?" I asked after a minute of silence. I hadn’t seen his car anywhere.

He scoffed. "Can’t a guy go for a walk these days?"

"It just seems oddly coincidental that we ended up at the same place at the same time."

"Good timing I guess," he said. "But next time I'll keep walking."

"Good timing for what? To see me making a fool out of myself for the second time?"

"What is Meg doing here?" Cole interrupted as we rounded the corner near the house.

"I guess she is still here. I forgot," I said, looking at him to read his expression. "Are we about to open a can of worms here?"

"A bucket of worms is more like it."

Sure enough, we pulled into the driveway to find Meg and Dad coming out of the front door. They stood there, laughing and looking at each other without a hint of the distaste I had detected from earlier.

It was short lived. Her smile vanished instantly as she saw who was driving my truck. Her mouth turned into a stern frown as she left Rick and walked up to us.

"What happened? Are you okay Lana?" Pardon me, but wasn’t this Dad’s job?

I guess not, he was standing on the porch laughing. "What happened kiddo? You capsize?" he chuckled.

"I‘m fine, thank you," I said briskly to Meg. "And no," I said to Dad. I walked to the door, leaving my truck open, Cole, still holding my keys.

I went straight upstairs and into the shower. I didn’t give a crap what I looked like – my concern was getting warm, and that seemed impossible, given how cold to the bone I was.

When I came down the stairs again I looked as much like a drowned rat as I did going up the stairs. But at least I was warm – I should be, I was in sweats and slippers. I had fully intended on spending the rest of the day on the couch buried in blankets.

That intention was short-lived.

I was mortified to see Cole sitting on the couch with my dad, a beer sitting in front of him, the game blaring on TV. At least Meg had gone. I turned to run back up the stairs.

"You hanging in there, kid?" Dad asked after a pop fly ended the inning on TV.

"I’m fine," I said bitterly, falling into the couch across from Cole. He stared at me. I could see his eyes moving to each part of my face before he made eye contact again.

"What?" I asked, a little too rudely.

"What’s with the attitude, Miss?" Dad said, setting his beer can back on the coaster. I scoffed at him. Dad raised his eyebrows at me like he would have started a lecture on respect if we didn’t have company.

Cole had completely disregarded my rudeness. He leaned forward on the couch and rested his forearms on his knees, his hands folded. "Next time you decide to kayak, stick to the lake."

I let out a sharp breath through my nose, but couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face. Dad saw me try to hide the smile and started to laugh, hysterically actually. Cole raised his eyebrows at me and smiled, all the familiar callousness gone from his face.

Ugh, I was so embarrassed! I half laughed, half groaned, and pulled my hood up over my head, pulling at the drawstrings, closing it around my face. I shrank back into the couch and curled up.

"I hate the both of you," I said, my voice muffled through the fabric.

Catalyst, Book One - Chapter Eight - "The First Appearance"

Dad had an open suitcase on the couch and a pile of dirty clothes on the kitchen table before I could blink. Hearing the shower upstairs going already, I put a load of laundry in but didn't start it, and was just zipping the suitcase closed when he came hopping the stairs looking like himself. He was clean shaven, hair combed and was wearing a pair of longer khaki cargo shorts, sneakers, a dark gray t-shirt and a Mariners baseball hat – his home uniform.

Thank goodness. He looked like Dad again – the old man at the door wasn't him.

I hated my mother for doing that to him. I hated her for a lot of things and I hardly knew the woman. I had seen her three times in my entire life, that I can remember. Once for each of Eli and my high school graduations, and once for Eli’s college graduation. Why did she think it was okay to show up then and never any other time, you ask? I have no idea.

Reena sent us checks for everything though. Birthdays, Christmas, and graduation. I got mine in the mail a few days back. I felt cheap for cashing it, but I also felt like it would give her a little piece of mind, knowing she was in a way supporting her kids – plus I need every cent I can get. She had been longtime re-married to a publishing executive and lived in Los Angeles now, so the money was no big thing for her.

Dad loudly slumped into the back of the couch, startling me out of my thoughts.

"How about taking an old man out for dinner?"

"Which old man did you have in mind?" I said, whirling around on the cushion with a cheesy smile.

"Your old man, smart ass," he said, ruffling my hair.

"Lets go." I grabbed a red cardigan off the back of the couch and threw it on over my shirt. It would be chilly soon.

A minute later we were roaring down the highway in Dad’s Camaro, the engine so deafeningly loud it was nearly impossible to hear him. I knew we would be going to Scully’s - it was the only place nearby. Still, I was surprised when he parked up top and came around to open my door.

"Why don’t we eat upstairs today?"

"You mean in the real restaurant?"

"It’s your graduation dinner and all."

He wrapped his arm across my shoulders, as we walked to the front doors. He smelled like Dad - a comforting smell that made me think of home. I missed our family being together and yet sighed contently as Dad pulled the door open and ushered me inside. I don’t know if I had ever been in here before.

"Richard Baker. I don’t believe my eyes," said a pretty Asian woman from behind the hostess table, "Who’s your date tonight?" she said, eying me warily.

"Don’t get me in trouble Penny, this is my daughter," he said, grabbing me on the shoulders and pulled me in front of him..

"Lana, forgive me, you are just all grown up!" she laughed melodiously. "Let’s get you two settled in."

I gave Dad a suspicious look as she led us back to the windows facing the Puget Sound. He shrugged innocently, like he had been framed.

Was Dad dating? I guess there wasn’t a reason he couldn’t. It was just weird. Dads don’t date. I looked at him as he pulled out my chair. Who was I kidding? Dad is a good looking guy, plus he’s friendly, loyal, and funny. Who wouldn’t fall for him?

"Weird," I said as he scooted in across from me.

"Hmm?" he asked, pulling the napkin onto his lap.

"You’re dating?"

"Not at all."

"You know," I smirked as I leaned towards him, "Lying to your only daughter isn't just bad manners. It's sad." Dad's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline but he didn't say a word – even more evidence to the truth. I leaned in closer and changed the subject. "So who are all these people? Townies or tourists?" I asked under my breath. I looked around casually at all the mostly new faces.

Dad and I leaned over our appetizers as we went through the entire room one table after another. I tried to memorize faces as he explained who everyone was since, tonight, most were people from the neighborhood or fisherman. There were only a couple tables he couldn't name. I was laughing into my garden salad when an older couple came into the room, led by Penny. The entire room seemed to quiet to a hush.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Dad said under his breath.

"Who are they?"

"Sullivan and Rebecca Whitfield," he said, looking first to his plate, then out the window.

"As in the Whitfield Inn?"

"One in the same. The one night we come here, they choose to leave the lair."

"What’s the matter with them?" I asked into my salad so they couldn‘t hear.

For a minute, Dad looked like I had said something that had caught him off guard. He paused as the grimace faded from his face. "There's nothing wrong with them." It was obvious the words were being forced out of his mouth. He hated them. I watched him take a deep breath as he thought about what to say. "Some people," he began with a grin. Right. Some people, not you. He began again. "Some people think that Sullivan and Becca Whitfield are a little old fashioned. Let's put it that way."

"Sullivan, Becca... bad." I stabbed at a leaf of lettuce and Dad laughed so hard he choked on an ice cube.

"You said it, not me," he joked.

"What did they do that was so bad?"

"That's a story for another day," he whispered.

"A mystery! Exciting."

I ignored Dad's less than excited face and casually peeked across the room.

Thankfully, Becca and Sullivan were blissfully unaware of Dad and my conversation and were slowly settling in at a table. Becca, I immediately noticed, had a very stern face. Her long brown hair seemed too young for her body, thick and still rich in color – only a little gray dotted along her temples. I could see the uppity air about Becca, but I had a hard time picturing Sullivan as stuck up. He looked like Santa Claus, minus the beard. His long white hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and his face seemed warm and rosy. Penny handed the pair two menus and left hastily but not before looking over to Dad to smile at him briefly. Did she know Dad didn't like them?

Becca did a once over of the room, her light colored eyes glaring around the room. When she swept our section of the room, her eyes landed firmly on Dad. A few seconds passed and yet her gaze did not turn away. It was as though she was challenging him to a starring contest, one that he wasn't aware of yet. I felt my own expression harden, daring her to meet my eyes. She looked at him for another long moment, and then her eyes moved to me.

Immediately, the deep line between her eyebrows disappeared, her eyes widening. Her frowning mouth opened a little in surprise, as if an inaudible cry had escaped her lips.

It was creepy. I was expecting the same rudeness and the unexpected reaction caused my own concentration to falter. What was worse, I felt an automatic smile come across my face.

Across the room, the sternly fixed corners of Becca's mouth were curling upwards too.

All of a sudden, I realized someone was saying my name.

"Lana!"

"For goodness sake, Dad. What?" I shook my head and turned back to him.

"Quit staring," he nervously stabbed at a piece of calamari.

Truth was, I couldn't help it. "She still looking over here?"

His eyes darted across the room without moving his head. Through clenched teeth he groaned. "Now they both are. No! Don't look. Just trust me."

I glued my eyes to his.

Talk about an awkward meal. When Becca and Sullivan finally looked away, they busied themselves with animated whispering across the table from each other. They would quickly then turn back and look at us. It was like they didn't see me seeing them. What the hell? Don't you know it's rude to stare?

Now, it seems stupid that I would have thought that they were staring because I was someone new to the area – someone new to the area with someone well-known to the area. I thought they were gossiping. Still, it made me nervous and after we ordered our meals, I decided I was either going to need either a cocktail or an explanation. We received our plates, and I pushed my ravioli around in the bowl and instead, generously sipped the table wine.

Before we even finished our plates, they got up and left. Fast eaters. Thank God. Relieved, and a little buzzed, I relaxed and was able to return my attention to Dad and plans for the coming days.

We got home just before nine that night. I should have been tired, but all the day’s weird events had me wide awake instead of sleepy, and while Dad settled in for the night in front of the TV, I decided to go for a walk. I needed to clear my head and work off my dinner. I walked along in the dark, not feeling an ounce of the apprehension of the darkness that I had felt the night before. It must have been the wine.

The cloak of night had softened the air and I listened to the only audible sounds: the croaking frogs, the trickling water of the nearby stream, and the sporadic sounds of cars rushing by on the highway. I heard the faint sounds of someone’s TV inside one of the houses I was passing, the soft, warm light from their windows illuminating the pavement in front of me. I walked past the park and onward to the corner where the boat launch was.

No one hardly used this boat ramp anymore - it was narrow and curved – way too much work to back a boat down, especially when Salisbury Point had a big wide launching driveway not two miles away. It is my favorite spot to launch kayaks and row boats for this specific reason. I also come here to think. That night, I stood on the old pebbled concrete and looked out at the water for a second before I sat down, pulled my hood up and lay back and stared at the sky, like I had hours before with my friends.

Every time I stare at the night sky out here, I remember how small I am. There are so many stars. In Seattle I was lucky to even notice the sky. Here, tonight, the moon was huge and orange, the stars abundant. I stared into the blackness until I saw a shooting star among the millions of shimmering specks. Sitting up, I looked again out into the dark black water, the stars shining on the glassy surface like glitter.

Not a week ago I had sat on my bed in my room in Seattle, with Coldplay humming low in the background, just thinking. There was barely any of the discontent I felt now, barely anything remotely similar to the hopeless fear that consumed every thought. What the hell was I doing here? I thought this summer would be so much fun, but it was already overshadowed by the fact that I wouldn't be going home ever again. I had no ties to this place. This was not my home.

Eventually, a rustling in the bushes nearby got the better of me, and I got up and trudged home.

Catalyst, Book One - Chapter Seven - "Neighbors"

 

"They both should be here somewhere," said Celine, sitting up from the back of her chair and looking around. "I wonder what they're up to."

"Oh we don’t need to bother them on my account," I said nervously. "I’m sure I’ll meet them someday."

"Nonsense. Its just a matter of locating them. We’ll find them after lunch."

"Whatever you say." Wonderful. Now I had to be charming.

Despite my protests, after lunch, we got up and went for a walk through the property. The place is incredible. Out back, behind the house and barn, there is a little lawn area that leads right onto the forest edge – a magical and never ending backyard. Not bad digs.

We walked through a labyrinth of well worn trails and found our way to Rosewood Lake, a tiny body of water so calm I could have walked straight out onto it. Two old row boats rested on their gunnels under a huge willow tree – while a tree almost identical loomed in the afternoon sun directly across the lake.

"Where does the road come out?" I wondered, pointing over her shoulder.

"Way out on the other side. See that little dock there?" she asked, pointing across the water.

I heard them before I saw them. Rustling through the woods wasn’t a big enough describing word. They were tearing through the woods. I was almost surprised I couldn’t see trees falling in their wake. They were laughing, swearing, and yelling at each other, obviously playing a game of some sort – racing down the mountainside. I half expected the ground to start shaking, but instead of an earthquake, they burst through the woods on the other side of the willow tree, out along the little dock, and both dived into the still water, the sounds of their outburst stopping as aggressively as they started. Only the echoes reverberating through the air accompanied the ripples of the disturbed water.

Suddenly Cole burst through the surface, closely followed by his brother. "I won," he gasped.

"In your dreams, sucker," Carter laughed, splashing his younger brother before swimming to the shore.

"Finished your chores I see," Celine sang out, her voice echoing across the silent water.

"Hey Mom!" Carter yelled, waving from the beach. "Who’s that with you?"

"Your new neighbor. Come say hello." My expression must have been horrified because she put her arm around me and smiled. "Are these the two clowns you saw this morning?"

"I think so." I was sure it was them but didn't want to seem eager to meet them.

Carter jogged over with a gigantic, goofy smile on his face. He thrust out his soaking wet arm before he said anything. Cole jogged nonchalantly behind him, his playful expression totally sullen now.

"Hi Miss, I’m Carter, how do you do?"

I was taken aback. "How do you do? What a gentleman," I laughed. "I’m Lana, your new neighbor," I said, taking his hand. He shook it rapidly with both of his.

"Captain Rick's daughter? Right. He's been working on the house, getting ready for you to move back in right?" he said, his friendly eyes disappearing into little twinkling slits. Cole nudged him in the arm as I replied.

"Just found that out, but yes, that’s right." I looked from Carter to Cole, incredulous. "Captain Rick? Is he making everyone call him that?"

"He hates it actually," Cole said bluntly.

"All I know is, that if I were a Captain, I’d want everyone to call me Captain," Carter said, holding his hands out in an exaggerated shrug.

There it was. My first sincere smile since my friends left. "Well then," I said, laughing, "I guess that’s a good reason to call him Captain."

I could tell already that this guy was going to be a friend. Instantly, I wanted to hug him – Carter was like a beacon of hope that had been sent down by some unseen force. Cole on the other hand, I was automatically defensive. Celine, as though she had heard my thoughts, took Cole by the shoulders and pushed him in front of Carter.

"Say hello," she ordered. He quickly wriggled free of her grip.

"It’s nice to meet you," I said, holding out my hand to shake his.

"Hello," he said shortly, taking my hand.

I hadn’t really been paying attention before, but when he looked up, I finally noticed his eyes. While Carter and Celine both had friendly dark brown eyes, his were a bright and clear pale blue. They were beautiful and frightening against his dark brown hair. They seemed almost white next to theirs, like a dog's eyes. After our eye contact held a moment too long, his eyebrows pulled into what seemed like a half glare, as though he was trying to concentrate on something, see through my eyes.

His face was angular, compared to Carter and Celine's more rounded features, and Cole wasn’t nearly as clean kept as his older brother. He looked effortless, like he didn‘t care too much about what he looked like, but somehow didn’t look like he had just rolled out of the mountains either. When he spoke, the wrinkles between his eyebrows smoothed back out and some of the hardness faded from his face.

"I think we saw you this morning? You were running?"

The defensiveness from before suddenly erupted into a flood of uncomfortable stammering in my own head. His voice was beautiful. In less than ten words he had entranced me. It was literally captivating to watch him talk – the way his lips formed words and stretched to reveal bright white teeth in an incredulous smile.

Why was he smiling? What was coming out of my mouth? Great.

Reply, stupid.

"Yep!" I squeaked out. The smile got bigger. My stammering got louder. I cleared my throat, buying myself some think time. "That was me."

So awkward.

"And have you been here a long time?" he asked. He was still holding my hand and was shaking it slowly, as if to propel the answer through my shaking arm. I could tell – he was enjoying this. His smile faded into a look of sheer amusement as he interpreted my discomfort. What an ass.

"Just got here last night," I squeaked out. What the heck was I so awkward for? That was not a difficult question. I pried my hand out of his. "So," I said, taking a step back. "Your a firefighter, and you are a..."

"Cop."

"Well, a fish cop right? You work with fish?"

Carter erupted into a fit of laughter. "Fish cop!" he howled. He choked off the booming laughter when Cole shot him a look. Celine's mouth moved in awkward, contorted directions, like she was trying to mask a smile.

"Not a fish cop. A fish and wildlife officer."

"You forgot the wildlife," Carter squeaked out, trying not to laugh. Cole glared at him again.

"Okay," I said, glad to be back on an equal playing field. "You work up in the woods too then? The ranger's station?"

"Up the road there, yes," he said, nodding his head toward a road to the side of us. There was a well worn path his truck had made in the wide dirt road. His eyes fell to the ground. I hope I hadn't offended him, but what was I supposed to do? He was torturing me. And he knew it.

"Boys, you still have a couple things to do, yes?" she turned to me. "Should we go back and have another glass of lemonade?"

"Sure, sounds good. It was great to meet both of you," I said quickly.

"Lana doesn’t know many people around town yet, so you two be friendly if you run into her again?"

"See you around Lana," Carter yelled wildly as Cole shoved his hands in his pockets.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket as Celine laughed quietly to herself as we walked away from the sopping wet boys. I heard someone snickering, followed by a thud, followed by a yelp of pain. I could see the sequence acted out by Brody and JT perfectly in my head.

"Wow, it got kind of late didn’t it?" I said, after checking the time on my cell.

"It did. When is your dad due back?"

"A little over an hour. Maybe I should skip that last lemonade and head home?"

"Sure. You should have a minute to get ready for Rick. Hide the beer cans, get the boys out of the house, you know," she chuckled, elbowing me.

"Oh yeah, that’s me alright. I thought we just discussed how mature I was?"

I turned to wave once more to Celine who was in the doorway of the house. I had just turned the corner on the dirt road and started at a decent clip down towards the next bend in the driveway. I had recovered sufficiently from my embarrassment and had just enough time to decide I would hold it together if I saw Cole again when, as I passed the barn, I came face to face with none other than Cole Chadwick. Fantastic.

He hadn't seen me yet and was struggling with two of the half bales I had seen him loading earlier. Carter was nowhere in sight but he still had two bales in his hands. He'd never make it with that much. I walked over and reached for a bale just as he dropped it.

"Need help?" I offered.

"Nope. I've got it," he said, surprised.

"I realize you've got it. But I can help. I’m standing right here. Where are we going?" I demanded, sliding my hands under the twine running around the heavy bundle. So much for being awkward. What a relief. The famous Lana Baker cynicism wins again.

"You don’t take no for an answer very well do you?" he said, smiling out of the side of his mouth.

"Glad we're getting to know each other here."

"Okay, then. Follow me." He braced the bundle against his quad muscle and I mimicked him, somewhat less gracefully as I followed him through a gate in the wood post fence and into the pasture where the horses were. Cole clicked his tongue against his teeth and the horses came trotting over immediately. We walked crossed the field, a mini herd of horses following us, until we got to a elevated trough made out of large, bulky pieces of pine. A huge white horse, the one I had seen earlier started nibbling on the bale I was carrying. It startled me.

"That's Charlotte," Cole said, nudging her out of the way. "She won't hurt you."

I shrugged it off. "So, did you get ditched?" I asked him as I handed him the bundle.

"Carter got a call into work," he said, shaking up the dense stack into the container.

"Well that’s not fair, what excuse do you get to use?"

"I don’t mind this work. I do most of it by myself anyway," he said, turning back towards the truck.

"I guess I was kidding."

"Oh," he looked at me, his expression softening a little. "Sorry."

Cole had just slammed the tailgate of the truck up after we had finished.

"Thank you very much for my second workout for the day," I said, tossing my gloves into the bed of the truck.

"Thank you for volunteering for manual labor."

"No problem." I fished my phone out of my pocket and grimaced when I saw the time.

"You late for something?" he asked.

"No big deal. Dad is getting home any minute."

"I can give you a lift back if you want." He looked uncomfortable at the thought, which made it more endearing that he'd offer.

"Really?"

"Sure. I’m going into town any way."

I could feel my heart beat in my throat all of a sudden as we climbed into the truck.

Dad was most inconvenient with his timing. His Camaro came thundering down the highway the opposite way Cole and I were coming. He turned down Hemlock just before we did.

"And there's Rick," Cole laughed, making the left hand turn after Dad.

"You can drop me at the corner if you don’t want a scene." Better yet, because I don't want a scene. Dad would certainly freak out if he saw me in some guy's pickup truck already.

"What are you talking about?" He asked with a smile as he pulled alongside the lawn.

"You’re in for it now," I sneered. "Your own fault."

Dad was on the porch with his rolling suitcase already, but he leaned it up against the front door when he saw us pull in. His dark blond hair was a little unkempt and his normally clean shaven face was sporting a rough five o clock shadow, speckled with a little gray. I was used to Dad looking like this after a trip. His nose wrinkled and crow's feet formed at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, but he wasn't old – only 42.

"My college graduate!" he called as I came up the three stairs in one leap to his big hug. He planted a big wet kiss on my cheek. "How’s my girl?"

"Good. How was your trip?"

"Long," he said, slapping me lightly around the shoulders. "And who do we have here?" he said, letting me go.

"How’s it going Mr. Baker?" Cole waved from behind the driver’s door of the truck.

"Cole, you hooligan, don't call me that. How many times to I have to tell you, it makes me feel like your elder."

Cole smiled and slammed his door shut. Dad pulled him into a hug, slapping him on the back.

Huh?

"Good to see you, kid," he said.

"Good to see you too, Rick. It’s been a while," Cole said, smiling.

"I can see you’ve met Lana," said Dad. "I’m a little confused how she’s already running the town though. What’s with the shuttle service, Lenny? Bronco brake down?"

"Nope, I walked up to see Celine. I just met Cole today and he was nice enough to drive me home so I wouldn’t be late to see you," I said as I thumped back down the steps to come stand with them. "Thanks again for the ride by the way."

He shifted nervously and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "No problem," he said, his eyes firmly fixed over Dad's shoulder.

"Well I’d really appreciate a cold one right about now, Cole? Can I tempt you? Stop in for a quick beer? How about it? There’s a game on I think," Dad said, unlocking the door. That reminded me about my keys - I snatched them off the front tire when Dad's back was turned. Cole gave me a questioning look and I smiled and shrugged.

"Thanks Rick, but I should get going – got a couple more things to do before dark. Next time though, I‘ll take you up on it." Dad slapped him on the back again and Cole slid back into his truck.

"Thanks again," I called after him, but he had already cranked up the volume on his radio and didn't hear me.

"Thanks again," Dad mocked in a high pitched voice. "Someone’s sure making friends fast."

"Oh shut up you old goat," I called after him. "We need to talk about this bedroom renovation project you so graciously told me NOTHING ABOUT." I ran inside after him, his booming laughter echoing through the house.

Catalyst, Book One - Chapter Six - "The House on the Hill"

I woke up early that morning and made some tea with the last bag in the box. I sat at the table in silence scribbling a few notes in my journal and when I was out of ideas, I let the pen fall out of my hand and slap against the wood table. My fingers drummed against the rim of the tea mug.

I was restless. I did what I do whenever I’m restless. I ran.

I left the front door unlocked, something I wouldn’t be caught dead doing back home, and trotted down the front porch steps. I ran down Hemlock and took a left on Shore Drive. I ran past the park, and past the boat ramp. I followed the road up the little hill and back to the highway. I crossed and ran head on along the two lane road, passing houses and farms. Before I knew it I was already to Quinn’s Market. Despite it being early Sunday morning, the store was open and bustling with people. Big diesel trucks were filling up at the gas station and the big shed I had seen the other day was open now, bursting with farm supplies – bags of seed and grain, bales of hay. It was there that I saw them.

Two men, probably in their mid twenties, one standing in the back of an old blue pickup truck, the other in the shed swinging halved bales of hay up to him. The man in the shed was enormous, (and to make me say that was impressive, since my best friends for the past four years had been football players.) He wasn’t just tall, he was big, built, like he had been lifting weights his whole life. He had short brown hair and a really friendly, round face. His eyes squinted into tiny crescents when he grinned and he had a big toothy smile. His dark blue t-shirt said "RESCUE" on the back and PHFR on the front pocket. That would explain it. He must be the world’s best firefighter. He was certainly throwing the hay into the truck with no problem.

The man in the bed of the pickup seemed less bulky, at least from where I stood. He could have been just as tall, but he was leaner. If the firefighter was the linebacker, this guy was the quarterback (forgive another football analogy.) He kept up with the big guy though. He was moving the bales with just as much ease, stacking them up in the truck. Suddenly he straightened up and pushed his hands against his arching back, stretching out his spine. A gloved hand came to his face and he wiped the sweat off his forehead. It was then that I saw his face. He wasn’t strikingly good looking, I noticed immediately. He wasn’t nearly as friendly looking as the first man, either. In fact, he looked kind of mean. His hair and coloring was the same as the other man's, which led me to believe they might be brothers. His eyes were bigger though, and much colder. Even from where I stood, I could tell his brow was furrowed as he squinted against the sun.

He was focusing at me, I realized with a panic. My first instinct was to ignore him – to look away and keep going. But, since these guys were the first people my age who looked like they belonged here, I was half tempted to go introduce myself. I wished whole heartedly that Hollie was here, she would have done it in an instant. I certainly didn’t have the guts.

I couldn't stifle a loud smirk when the big guy, still engrossed in his chore, swung a bale into the truck, not realizing the other one wasn’t paying attention. The bundle landed with a loud crack onto the tailgate. Startled, the mean looking one turned and yelled at his friend, throwing his arms up in the air. I was worried they were actually fighting for a minute as they exchanged words and animated gestures. But, there was a pause, and then a roar of laughter between them. So the mean-looking one could laugh? The smile stayed glued on my face as I ran ahead and turned around the bend, my two new neighbors disappearing out of sight.

All of a sudden I felt like I had been holding my breath for an hour. I folded my fingers together on the top of my head and tried to catch my breath. Frustrated, I slowed my pace a little, but still wasn’t recovering fast enough. I swore out loud (a little too loud probably, since it echoed along the highway) as I waited for a semi truck to roar past me before dodging across the street. I hopped over the barrier between pavement and forest floor and picked my way over a fallen tree trunk and into the woods.

I eventually found a well worn path through an alder grove and about a minute later the dense forest gave out to the beach. I knew it would. The shoreline is only ever a couple minute walk from the highway all the way through town.

I ran along the dirt trail as long as I could, until it gradually dissolved into loose, deep sand and rocks. It was too big a risk to my ankles to keep running, so I slowed to a walk. I picked my way through the pebbly brown sand and smooth rock until I came to a large dry piece of driftwood. I sat there for I don’t know how long with my elbows on my knees, chin in my hands, just watching the water.

I don’t know if it was the stinging, salty wind, my ruined run, the all too permanent absence of my friends, or a different aspect of my life uprooting, but tears started to fall. It was no use trying to keep a handle on it, there was no one out here to see.

Through blurred eyes, I could make out two or three dorsal fins of the familiar Dall’s porpoises as they appeared and ducked under the softly rolling water near a crab pot buoy. Seagulls squawked over the bright orange lobster shells that had found their way from cruise ship decks to this beach (you do the math.) A blue heron stood completely still a few feet from me, and was only visible after he flew away in a panic as two bald eagles landed yards away, one with a small fish clutched in a talon.

I remained completely still and just watched. The tear drops made little depressed spots in the sand between my feet. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the eagles had flown away, and my face had reached a substantial puffiness from the crying, I ran home.

Was I being a baby about this? I don't know. I often think back to the genuiunely lost, abandoned feelings I felt in those first couple of days. It was like my whole world for the past four years had never really existed after all. If it could all disappear so quickly, what was the point of it to begin with? I felt disoriented and shaky in my thoughts, like my real life's reality was a path I had wandered from. On the other hand, things could be much worse. This was something everyone went through – it wasn't a crisis.

It was almost noon by the time I had gotten out of the shower, dressed, and had dried and straightened my hair. It was just about time for lunch with Celine. I was feeling a bit better. I was surprised, but crying it out a little bit and the hard run back home had helped a lot. So did the guilt trip I sent myself on for being such a baby. I convinced myself that this new neighborhood was going to be a little adventure of mine.

Despite the heat, I had on jeans and a t-shirt as I locked the front door. I didn't feel like a safety lecture if Dad should beat me home. My flip flops smacked down the steps, and cell phone in my pocket and keys in my hand, I opened the door to the Bronco. It was as though I had opened an oven door. No way was I enduring an air conditioning-less drive up to Celine's, even if it was only a couple blocks away. There was an orange in the passenger seat, and I grabbed it before I slammed the door shut and hid the keys on top of the front tire.

It was such a nice day outside anyway. The sun was peaking through the pine trees, and the tide must have been coming in again, because I could hear waves crashing on the beach.

I was early, so I walked slow, absentmindedly eating the orange and tossing the peels into the tall grass on the side of the road. Up at the highway again, I crossed like I had before and walked a block down to Spruce Avenue. The road was so remote here that it wasn’t even paved on this side of the highway. I passed big fields and barns and a couple houses, lots of horses here too. I hadn’t really wandered up here before, and never realized farms were so close to the house. About a quarter mile up the street it seemed to come to a dead end. But just like Celine had said, to the left of the road was a driveway that wove its way up the hill. I followed this road up and up.

Soon the rocky, dusty road replaced itself with a damper, mossy dirt. A wooden fence started about forty feet off the turn and wild lavender grew around its posts. There were trees all over – I was walking through the forest. This was the real deal though, the actual Olympic National Forest, not a little wood leading to the beach. With Spanish moss hanging from the tree branches, and the dense, dark trees blocking out much of the summer sun, I felt a little like Dorothy, walking along a gloomy forest trail, just minus the yellow bricks.

I kept walking, wondering if I should have driven.

Just then, the forest gave way to a clearing. A large white horse and her foal were standing on top of a hill, the mother grazing, the foal, jumping about, playfully nibbling its mother’s tail. Around the tiny hill were several more horses. I couldn’t see a fence anywhere, but I did see a large brown barn across the field. This had to be the place. Sure enough there was the house, standing there as I rounded the corner. I stepped up onto the southern style wrap-around porch and lifted my arm to knock but before I could, the door opened.

"Hello Miss Baker," Celine said warmly. "I didn’t expect you'd be on foot! I could have come to get you."

"I’ve got the truck at home," I laughed as she ushered me through the door. I followed her through a TV-less living room and large dinning room. "It was a nice day and I decided I could use the walk."

"It is a nice day out," she agreed. Putting all her weight into it, she pulled the sliding door open that lead to a back deck. "Maybe we can talk a walk after lunch?"

"Sounds good to me." She pulled out a rod iron chair for me and sat across from me. There was a terrifyingly elaborate spread on the table. "You did not have to go to all this trouble!" I said, mortified.

"Oh for goodness sake, relax," she laughed, filling my glass with lemonade. "I rarely get visitors."

"I thought you had sons," I asked, taking a sandwich from the tray. "Don't they take advantage of a mom who cooks?"

She laughed into her lemonade glass. "They do, but they would eat cardboard. This is a real lunch party."

"Can't imagine why no one would come up here." I realized I probably shouldn't have said that when I saw the brief flash of sadness across her face.

It flushed away quickly as she smiled again. "There are so few people here. You will come to understand that very quickly."

"I think I already am starting to. So far, I know you, and... you, and-"

"Me?"

"Oh yes, and you." I looked around the property as I finished a bite of sandwich. "Man, I could stay here forever. I'm going to be banging your door down."

"Please do," she said. "It gets lonely up here."

"Who needs people around?" I grumbled.

"The people of town and our family have, historically, not gotten along very well," she said. "So I guess we like it up here. It's good that we keep to ourselves. People tend to forget we are even here."

"But you said you know Dad? I’m sure if you know him, you must have other friends in town. Dad is kind of a recluse," I smirked.

"You might be surprised to know that your father wasn’t always so quiet."

I tried to imagine Dad how she must see him – how she knew him before he had kids.

"I guess the responsibility of two little kids and no wife would suck the fun out of anyone," I said bitterly. I looked up to explain, but she waved me off.

"I know all about it, Lana. Your father brought you and your brother up here for a while right after your mother moved to California," she said quietly. "It's terrible."

"Did you know her?" I asked, stunned that Celine might have known me when I was little. Even more shocked that she might have known Reena.

"I met her a few times, but I didn’t know her," Celine said carefully. "Meg, my adopted sister, and I babysat you two a few times when Ricky was out on work trips."

"What?!" I yelled, a little too loudly. "Why did we stop coming up here? Why didn’t he ever tell us we had been up here?"

"You’ll have to talk to him about that one, it’s really none of my business. I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all."

"No, I’m glad you did. I’ve been wondering how you knew so much," I smiled, calming down. "So did you like her?"

"Reena was pleasant enough, but I could tell she nervous. The thought of spending a lifetime in Edmonds with your father scared her I think. She had two tiny kids, no job – she was dependent on him entirely," Celine reasoned carefully, watching for my reaction.

"She was afraid of being left, so she did the leaving," I concluded out loud.

"They rushed into everything. Rick is one of those men who likes to be needed," she smiled, "In my opinion. And Reena is a woman who needs to take care of herself."

"You’re not telling me anything I don’t know about Dad," I smirked. "I think that’s why he had to go back to work. He can barely take care of himself, but he is a pro at taking care of everyone else."

"That’s not unlike someone else I know," Celine said slyly.

"What do you mean?"

"You."

"And how would you know that?" I demanded softly.

"Remember me saying there is hardly a soul up here?" I nodded. "Remember how I said your father and I have known each other since childhood?" I nodded again. "We talk. He talks about you and Eli every other sentence."

"Oh boy, that’s embarrassing," I muttered, looking away.

"And from what I've gathered already, his descriptions of you are pretty accurate," she argued. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Why did you decide to come back and live with your dad?"

"Why did I come back?" I repeated quietly. "Because I didn’t have anywhere else to go."

"And why didn’t you have anywhere else to go? Couldn’t you have gone on a trip with your friends, or moved for a job, or stayed in town, or done whatever you wanted to?"

"Okay, so I'm lazy," I reasoned.

"I don’t think so."

I felt my eyebrows come together in confusion. "Or afraid, I guess."

"I think you moved home because you are the last person in your dad’s life and you didn’t want to leave him." I opened my mouth to argue with her, but stopped, my lips pressing back together. "You sacrificed your summer to be with Rick. You’ve hid that truth from everyone, even yourself," she laughed. "See what I mean now?"

"Never thought about it that way. But Dad is perfectly capable of taking care of himself."

"That's not what I mean."

I knew that's not what she meant. "Elijah was lucky. He could leave me with Dad and not feel so guilty about going away to school. He’s only been a few times since turned eighteen. I’m jealous," I said, with an unintentional hint of self pity.

"You wouldn’t have been happy doing that though, would you?" She asked, picking up her glass.

"No, probably not. I love it here too much, and I love being near Dad, but it would be nice to have an adventure once in a while. Life has been totally mapped out until now with school and soccer. Now all the structure is gone, I don‘t know what should be next." She smiled and nodded her head as I rambled on. "You know, it's funny because all through school, I felt so trapped by everything I had to do – work, school, soccer – I never had time to actually experience college. I was trapped, and now the doors kind of swung open, and I'm left dumbfounded – I don't know what to do with all of this freedom."

"That’s the exciting part. Anything can happen now."

"Right, but how do I know what the right path is? How do I know I won't get halfway down one route only to realize I should have done something else?"

"You are looking at the point you are at right now as a left or a right, a right or wrong answer. It’s not that complicated. The beauty of it is that you can afford to make mistakes or change your mind. To tell you the truth, I think if you let it, the decision will make itself for you. You‘ll just know."

That made a lot of sense, but could I really leave something as important as this up to chance? Besides that, could I legitimately find something to frame my life around out here in the middle of nowhere? I kept seeing an image of me in the back of my mind, old, fat, unhappy, and stuck in some cubicle job - working for a paycheck and not doing anything that would matter after I was dead and gone. I was so afraid of that happening.

I suddenly realized our conversation. "Wow," I said, chuckling.

"What is it?" she asked, puzzled.

"I thought I was the psychology major. How did you get me to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Spill my guts like that?"

"Five trouble makers. I managed to acquire the divine skill for cracking through to the truth." She cocked her head and smiled, scrunching up her nose.

"I still can’t believe you have five sons. Are they quintuplets or what?"

"Casey is my oldest. He’s 28 and lives in Port Townsend with his father, Calen," she said proudly.

"What’s with all the C names? Calen, Casey, Celine?"

"That's not even the half of it. But you know, we didn’t even realize we had done that until our third son was born," she laughed. "Then we had to keep up the tradition."

"Makes sense. Don’t want to leave anyone out."

"No certainly not," she chuckled. "Anyway, he’s a journalist up there. Colin, my second eldest is an attorney in Seattle. He specializes in divorce and domestic abuse cases. Cooper is next in line, he’s 26 and teaches history to middle school kids."

"I think that must be the worst age for kids to be. Such little monsters," I sneered. "Didn't even like them when I was one of them."

"I think Cooper would probably kiss you for saying that," she laughed. "Anyway, my two youngest still live in the area, the two I told you about, that live up the hill. Carter is a firefighter, and Cole, my youngest, is a Fish and Wildlife officer for the Eastern Olympic Peninsula."

"That sounds like a cool job. What does he do?"

"Most days he checks tides and the fire scale, does a run through, and that‘s about it. The job has it’s perks though – he’s got a lot of free time and it pays really well."

"Does he drive a blue pickup truck?" I asked, suddenly remembering the two guys I saw earlier that morning.

"He does. Why do you ask?" she asked, smiling.

"I think I saw them today at Quinn’s."

"That was them. On the weekends they both come around to help their poor old mother with her chores," she said in a dramatically feeble voice.

"Poor old mother, yeah right.

Catalyst, Book One - Chapter Five - "Saying Goodbye"

 

I didn’t really know what it was with Celine, but I had a new wave of optimism as I sped home. I had, however, taken much longer than I had anticipated, and sure enough, I could see that the lights were on in the living room when I pulled into the driveway.

"Where have you been? We’re starving here!" Keith moaned, still curled up on the floor with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and head.

"You look pathetic," I grumbled. "And don’t you mean, ‘Good morning, Lana, what did you have in mind for breakfast this beautiful morning?’ Or, ‘What could I help you with?’ Or-"

"Quit bitchin' and get in the kitchen," Brody joked, as he came through the doorway.

"You, sir, are lucky I have groceries in my hands." I threatened. I bumped him out of my way and sarcastically stalked into the kitchen.

I would have played into being insulted a bit more had I not felt so bittersweet about everyone scattering. The optimism, I concluded, was focused on the living situation, not the factors leading up to it. Everyone was setting off to start their new lives. I was proud of them and excited too, but I was also hit with a feeling of abandonment as well as a wave of panic – I didn’t have any exciting plans of my own. I couldn’t bring myself to choosing a direction yet – nothing seemed right.

I set down the two bags of groceries and peaked out around the wall of the doorway. Keith looked like a giant slug, sprawled out on the floor like that, he was probably suffering a little from the night before. Next to him was JT, propped up against the couch and flipping through channels. Brody had set the two cushions back into the love seat and was laying across it, his feet hanging over the edge and Sadie and Andrew were on the main couch, with Sadie’s back pressed against the side of it, her legs across Andrew’s lap.

Hollie came down the stairs in a fresh outfit and a towel wrapped around her hair.

"Good morning sunshine," she sang cheerfully, bounding into the kitchen.

"Morning," I sulked.

"What’s the matter with you?" She asked, plopping into a chair at the table.

"Nothing. Other than the fact that everyone is leaving me forever, I‘m fantastic," I said, only half sarcastically. I turned on the stove and oven and pulled out a bowl to mix the pancakes in.

"You butt-head. I told you to come spend the summer with me in Maine," she said, flipping her wet hair over and wrapping a towel around it. "We could have wandered around the beach and the little towns, maybe taken a trip down to spend the weekend in New York City – we still could do that you know."

"I can’t leave Dad now," I said, dropping the first pancake on the griddle. "I already told him I was coming home. But," I said, pointing at her with the spatula, "If things get too lame here, I just may take you up on that."

"Good. Now what’s for breakfast, Betty Crocker?" she said, poking through my groceries. "Want me to slice up these strawberries?"

"Sure. I also want you to promise me one thing."

She pulled a large knife from the block. "What’s that?" she asked.

"One, don’t slice your hand off," I laughed. "But two," I paused.

"What?" she asked again, pausing for an answer.

"Don’t go getting any other best friends over there right away, okay?"

"Oh you idiot," she chortled, violently chopping off the ends of the strawberries.

"I’m serious," I laughed, half-heartedly. "Everyone is leaving me!" I stuck out my bottom lip in a pout.

"You…" she began, "Are… an idiot."

"Thanks, and I’ll take that as an agreement," I snickered, flipping the pancakes over.

It did make me laugh, but did nothing to ease my sadness about the gigantic white elephant in the room. Interactions were normal as we ate breakfast around the TV – the seven of us, squished into the living room with our paper plates.

"Can’t we watch something else?" moaned Hollie.

"Family Guy is hilarious, what are you talking about?" said JT, with a mouthful of egg,

"This has got to be the stupidest show in the history of television," she whined again. "Television should stimulate your brain at least a little bit."

"It’s funny," Brody said with his eyes glued to the TV.

"A classic," agreed Keith.

"It’s rotting your brain," she grumbled again. "I Love Lucy is a classic." JT looked at her for a second and smiled a stupid lippy smile, took an exaggerated bite of food, and still smiling, slowly turned his attention back to the screen.

"Idiot," she whispered, daintily cutting a piece of pancake.

Breakfast came and went too soon for me and after the breakfast stuff was cleared away, we sat around for a while. Miraculously, the TV was off this time.

"Time for a walk?" I offered.

"Sure," sighed Sadie, "We should."

"Down to the boat launch?" asked Keith.

Brody sighed loudly. "Why not?"

We all piled on shoes and sweatshirts. It was warm outside, but the boat launch was usually chilly. We walked around the corner onto Shore Drive and hiked down the road towards the private access driveway that led straight to the water. I walked behind everyone, smiling as I watched my friends interact as if nothing traumatic was about to happen. Keith jumped on Brody’s back after he had flicked a piece of something at him. JT had picked a piece of long grass and was tickling Hollie’s ear with it, and as usual, Sadie and Andrew were off to the side, holding hands, walking in silence.

To both sides of the boat launch there are a few rock steps that lead down to the beach. Brody and Keith jumped down to the sand and continued harassing each other. We had the entire beach to ourselves, which was usually the case up here. JT and Hollie plopped down on the pavement a couple feet above the lapping waves. Sadie and Andrew walked along the beach a ways, Sadie, stopping to pick up a shell. I pulled on my sweatshirt hood and settled myself on the boat ramp, lying on my back.

The sky was bright blue, with no clouds in sight. The slight spray of salty water fogged around my face as the low tide began to come in. In the distance I could hear the group of birds calling as they floated out in the water and the faint sound of a cruise ship horn that was passing far out in the shipping canal. It was all so relaxing and welcome, but I couldn’t focus on anything except my friends. I sat up and hugged my knees just in time to see an officer in his little gray boat cruise by out beyond the surf.

"I’m gonna miss you guys," I whimpered almost to myself. Only Hollie and JT heard me, and they both turned around and smiled.

"Gonna miss you too," said JT.

We poked around the beach for a while, but all too soon, it was time for everyone to go. Sadie, Andrew, and Hollie had planes to catch and the boys still had to move out of their house. They helped me throw the rest of the cushions back onto the couches and straighten up before we all found ourselves with our hands in our pockets in front of Brody’s Jeep.

"Well," Sadie muttered, slamming Andrew’s tailgate shut.

"This is it, kids," said Keith, kicking at the ground.

Brody’s keys jingled as he pulled them out of his pocket. "Time to hit the road I guess. Come here," he said as he pulled Sadie in for a hug. He shook Andrew’s hand over her shoulder, and then turned to Hollie.

We all took turns saying other good-bye. Hollie and I walked to her car together. I had a note written for her, and I pulled it out of the pouch of my sweatshirt.

"Don’t read this until you are on the ferry," I said. "Or you’ll cry and blur your vision." I tried to laugh, but it sort of came out as the beginning of a sob.

"Don’t cry, you fool, we’ll see each other soon!" she promised. I nodded as we hugged again. She got in her little red Focus with the dented bumper, smiled again and closed the door.

When she rolled the window down, I tried to lighten the mood. "Don’t forget to write now, ya hear?"

She smiled again and looked at me seriously. "Remember to brush twice a day. We don’t want to end up like the neighbors now do we?"

"Mrs. Henderson is 97 - she has dentures," I laughed. "But I get the hint. Thanks," I said, leaning in. "Okay then. Safe drive, safe flight."

And she was gone. Sadie and Andrew had already pulled out behind her. I watched Sadie go, confident I would see her soon, but Hollie. Hollie had no reason to come back. Nevertheless, I hated to see anyone go. Keith and JT had already said goodbye and were in the Jeep, fighting over the front seat. Brody had just thrown his last bag in the back and now was walking towards me.

"Well," he said, shrugging slowly and smiling his toothy, sideways smile. "Do I get a hug, or what?"

I nodded and stepped into his arms, my face buried into his shoulder. His black Northface jacket was soft and smelled of his cologne. I breathed it in and wrapped my arms around his waist tighter than usual.

"We’ll see each other again soon, all of us. We’ll all meet up somewhere. Vegas maybe!" he joked. "You’ll see us so much you won’t even miss us!"

"I’ll miss you all," I squeaked out. I cleared my throat. "Alright get out of here, before I ask you to stay forever."

Brody smiled and kissed my forehead. "See you, Lenny, have a good summer."

"You too," I whispered. "Stay out of trouble," I yelled to JT and Keith.

"Always do," Keith smiled.

"Love ya, Lana," said JT waving wildly from the back seat as Brody got in and pulled out of the driveway.

That was it. They drove away.

The phrase, "The silence was deafening," never held such a profound meaning for me before. I was numb... so much had happened, so much would never be the same again.

I couldn’t stand it.

I crossed the living room, mine suddenly the only footsteps. I turned the TV onto the news and let it blare loudly and tossed the remote onto the couch as I wandered into the kitchen to browse my options.

I wasn’t really hungry, but I needed something to do, so I rummaged around the pantry. There was hardly a thing inside – Dad was a bachelor alright. Eventually I found an ancient bag of tea and settled on that. The microwave buzzed monotonously as my mug of water heated – I listened to the news in the other room – just as monotonous.

I had just settled into the couch when I realized that I should start to unpack before Dad got home. Then it hit me. My room!

What an idiot, I thought to myself as I practically dropped my steaming tea onto the coffee table, jumped over the back of the couch and hurdled the stairs. I hadn’t even been up here yet.

Settling in upstairs meant everything was real. Friends were really gone, we had really moved out, school had really ended, and soccer too. My whole life was ending, or was it starting, I guess? The whole subject made me lose my breath, and therefore, I was repressing the feelings.

The analysis of my emotional state screeched to a halt in my head as my body stopped at the top of the stairs. All of this was new – the floors, the dry wall, paint, even a few pictures hung on the wall. Dad had really been working. There were still three bedrooms up here, two with attaching bathrooms. The first door was Dad's room, right by the stairs, (no sneaking out for me, I guess.) There was also the door to the second bedroom and a tiny spare bathroom where Hollie had taken her shower.

I wandered through the new hallway, taking tentative steps towards my bedroom door. The room straight ahead had been chosen because of the attaching bathroom, walk in closet, and the view. I had the best view in the house. Dad could see the water, but I could smell it. I love that smell.

"Holy crap," I said out loud as the door swung open, slamming against the wall.

The image I had of the room before, wood paneled walls and bunk beds, evaporated like a fog in my head as I stepped onto the refinished floor. The cracked and peeling wall paneling was gone and a fresh coat of paint now covered the new spackled dry wall.

The window was the center focus of the room and had been even before the remodel. But now it had an addition. Dad had cut into the wall underneath it during the remodel and had installed the white framed and pillow-top window seat. To the left of this was my old bed, simple and white. Two nightstands stood on either side – all of these had been mine in our old house.

Still standing in the doorway, mouth still hanging open, I saw to my immediate right a brown armchair with a small side table closest to me. Next to it on the other side, a large, tall bookcase. The archway to the closet was the same, and was in the corner next to the bookcase.

Inside the closet, I found the glorious storage space college life had deprived me of. One side of the walk-in was two levels of hanging space while the opposite side held shelves and racks for shoes, bags and other stuff. Walking the short length of the closet led me to the bathroom. This had been left relatively untouched to my relief - he spent way too much time, effort and money on this. I could have lived, and was expecting to live, in the old room.

Back on my bed, there was a note and a wrapped package. I grabbed it and wove my way back through the maze of boxes to find the chair in the corner. I sat down and opened the envelope.

"Happy Graduation Lenny. Annie, Eli and I are so proud of you! Hope you enjoy your room, hope you were surprised! Eli and Annie helped out when they visited last month – Annie picked out the sheets, and decorations. (She also put the pictures up in the hall – I thought you should know, in case you were worried that I suddenly took up interior design.) I’ll see you on Sunday. Love you, Dad"

I laughed out loud. I should have known Dad to not attempt decorating. Sniffling a little, I put the card down and opened the package. Inside was a new leather-bound journal. I had kept one since I could remember and it was Dad’s tradition to get me a new one at the beginning of every summer. Smiling, I pulled at the cover and pages, listening to the crinkle of the paper as they creased open for the first time. I grabbed a pen from one of my stationary boxes turned the first page.

"Saturday, June 20th, 2009

I love my new journal. I love my new room. Dad is completely ridiculous - he shouldn’t have done this. But I love it. I met Celine Chadwick today – my first friend in this place. That and this new room are the only things making me feel like I might be okay here for a while. We’ll see."

I set the journal and pen down on the side table, walked over and flung open the big window. I leaned out, looking way down to the side yard. There really wasn’t anything in our yard except a few trees, grass and lots of moss, but further out across the pavement I could see clearly, the sharp greenish blue water through the dark pine trees.

It was twilight by the time I finished unpacking. It startled me – I hadn’t realized it had gotten so late. My room was finished, though, and it made me smile to see everything in its place, like it belonged there. It was comforting – books and old journals on the shelves, an extra blanket on the chair, all my clothes, shoes, purses and things all in their proper place. I had switched on some music when I found my stereo, but the last song had ended and now I stood in silence in the doorway, folding up the last empty box.

I went down the hall quietly. I hate being by myself at night when it's too quiet. The slightest noise will send my heart into my ears and I won’t ever relax after that. It must have something to do with being confined in the house because I’m hard to make nervous when I’m out in public. I was confident walking home from a bar, or parking in a public garage after dark. No, it had to be the ambushing in the home part that scared me to pieces. Thankfully, the TV was still blaring irate voices on CNN and all the lights were on. I left the news screaming at me and walked into the kitchen where I cooked up the remaining eggs and a piece of toast.

I could still see outside. The street lights had just come on so I wasn’t overly scared yet. I flipped off the TV and opened the front door. Out on the porch in the hot night air, I slowly munched my dinner. Across the street I could see Mrs. Henderson through her living room window vacuuming her carpet. If she can live alone up here, I can survive one night.

I finished my dinner, locked the front and back door and with nothing better to do, I went back upstairs. I took a hot shower and got ready for bed. I locked my bedroom door and snuggled deep into the covers. That's when I looked at the clock. 8:49PM. Pathetic.

Actually, it wasn't that hard to get to sleep the first night. I just didn't stay asleep for long. The creaks and groans of the house were foreign to me, and stirred me out of a deep sleep on more than one occasion. I couldn’t believe how quiet it was out here. At home in Seattle, cars honking and screeching, people yelling outside, and my roommates in the living room until late couldn’t compete with my sleeping habits. Here though, it was so quiet it woke me up. That and the nightmares I must have been having. I couldn't remember the last time I had a dream scary enough to wake me up. Nevertheless, at midnight, and few times before morning, I awoke with a start. Couldn't remember the dream though.