Lost on Brier Island (8 page)

Gus stood in the middle of the room, holding the flowers awkwardly in front of him.

“They're, um, pretty,” Alex managed to say, concentrating with all her might on not woofing her cookies all over the table. She sucked in a deep breath—thank goodness she couldn't smell them.
Look at something else!
she ordered herself. Staring at the tabletop, she felt the waves of nausea subside.

“I'd have been skinned alive if I'd forgotten 'em.”

“They're not from you?” Alex asked.

“Nope. Not that I wouldn't have,” Gus said. “But Rachel beat me to it. All tore up that you were hurt, she was. Ran off and picked these herself.” He examined the blooms. “Now, I'm no expert like Soph, but I'd bet a whole lobster catch that there's some stuff in here that shouldn't be.”

“Really?” Aunt Sophie said. “Like what?”

“Yup, some of Eva's prized dahlias, I believe,” he said, gently tapping a burnt-orange bloom. “Should know—I weeded them myself.”

“Uh-oh.” As annoying as Rachel was, Alex didn't want her to get in any trouble.

“Don't worry, now. Eva couldn't yell if her life depended on it.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Besides, can't blame Rachel for being so upset. We were all worried about ya…”

“Of course I don't mind.” Eva got up and inspected the blooms. “Good taste, indeed. These are my favourites.”

“Looks like little Rachel was in Big Meadow in the nature preserve and plucked a few endangered Eastern Mountain Avens while she was at it,” Aunt Sophie grumbled, peering over Eva's shoulder.

“Ahem. Well, innocent mistake.” Gus pulled the bouquet away from Aunt Sophie's inspection. He tucked it into an empty ceramic vase on the counter before returning to his tea. “Heart's in the right place, that's the important thing. Besides, flowers grow back. No harm done.”

Silence settled on the group as each dug into their dessert and coffee refills. With the imminent threat of barfing now gone, Alex contemplated the juicy butter tart sitting in front of her.

Underneath the plate was a touristy placemat, covered with ads and little stories about the island. The writing on the paper mat twigged her memory of name doodling the previous day. She thought about Gus's boat,
Evania Rose
. “Eva, where does your name come from? I mean, is Eva your whole name?”

“What do you mean, dear?”

“You know, is it short for anything, like—uh, Evangeline? Or maybe something else?”

Eva looked at Alex curiously. “As a matter of fact, it is. My full name is Evania. What makes you ask?”

Alex glanced sideways at Gus. She could see a wave of red rising from his neck. His head was bent over his mug and he made a funny noise in his throat. She was definitely on to something.

“Really? That's an unusual name—very interesting,” Alex said.

“Is it now?” Eva seemed puzzled.

“Have you ever been on Gus's new boat?” Alex sat forward on her stool.

“Not one toe—I get seasick something fierce. But what's that got to do with—”

“Ahem. Yes, well, it's getting late. Time to close up there, Eva?” Gus leapt to his feet and began grabbing plates off the table.

“Augustus Emmanuel, what on earth are you doing?” Eva looked flabbergasted. “You've never touched a dish here in all the twenty years I've known you.”

Gus's face flamed brighter as he froze, his hand hovering over Eva's chowder bowl.

“Besides, I'm not even finished my dessert yet,” Alex said. She took a tiny nibble of her tart, watching Gus. Part of her felt good that it was someone else on the squirmy end of a hook for a change.

“Bogs!” Gus growled, his ferocious lion scowl focused on her. “Cheeky girl.”

“Don't be foolish. Sit down,” Eva ordered, waving him back to his stool. She tipped his travel mug towards her
and peered inside. “You haven't even finished your second cup of tea, for heaven's sake!”

“Bogs,” he muttered again, so low it was hard to hear him. However, he obediently returned to his seat and piled the dishes in a precarious tower in the middle of the table, all the while sneaking glances at Eva.

“You were saying, Alex dear…”

Gus twitched and his bushy eyebrows sunk even lower as his gaze zigzagged between Eva and Alex.

Part of Alex knew it was none of her business—that she should leave it alone. But if Gus had a crush on Eva, he should just tell her. What was he waiting for, anyway? She didn't know why it even mattered to her, but at that moment it mattered a lot. “It's a very strange coincidence. Gus's boat's name—”

Crash!

The teetering stack of dishes toppled over. Two chowder bowls and a glass rolled off the edge of the table and smashed.

“My new stoneware!” Eva cried as she leapt up to grab one of the remaining bowls before it hit the floor.

Everyone scrambled into action, collecting dishes and pieces of the broken bowls while Eva tut-tutted her distress.

“It's my fault, Eva,” Gus said. He was sprawled on his hands and knees, carefully checking under the table for broken pieces. “I'll get more bowls for ya.”

“Don't be silly! It was an accident.” Eva was trying to piece together one of the bowls. “I wonder if I can glue this…”

They'd just sw
ept up the last shards of pottery when lights from outside lit up the café's interior. Alex's mom had pulled into the parking lot. She turned the car off, but didn't get out.

Aunt Sophie frowned and walked towards the door. “Be right back.”

Alex watched as Aunt Sophie leaned in through the car window and said something. Then she opened the passenger door and got in. She was talking to Alex's mom and suddenly reached over and hugged her. They sat there, making no move to come in, and continued talking. What was happening? Alex was sure she knew the answer to that—
more trouble between Mom and Dad.

Anxiety surged through her. She thought about finding out what was wrong, but decided she didn't want to know. Desperate to think of something else, Alex turned back to Eva and Gus.

“Gus named his boat after you!” she shouted.

“What?” Eva's mouth was shaped in an O and her eyebrows had jumped almost to the top of her head.

“
Evania Rose
—that's what Gus named his new boat.”

Gus slunk even lower on his stool. It looked like he was trying to melt into the floor. He shot Alex a hurt look.

She felt like she'd kicked a puppy. He suddenly didn't look the least bit like a ferocious lion. Why had she said anything? It was the same as at the park with the donair. Part of her wanted to ruin everything.

“What?” Eva repeated. “You named your boat…after me?”

Gus opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“All these years, you never said a word.”

“I—I, well, you were in mourning after Albert died…and—”

“Albert? He died ten years ago!”

“Yes, but ya love him—and miss him. I know that.”

Eva was shaking her head. “You should have said something. All this time…”

He took both her hands. “Eva, dear. I'm a grimy old bachelor. And still, I weed your flowers, plant your fancy herbs, take you shopping on the mainland…”

“Yes, I know that, but—oh. Oh!” Her eyes were round as saucers as she looked up at him.

Gus smiled back down at her.

Eva seemed to get embarrassed. She tugged her hands loose. “What do you mean, grimy? Indeed you're not! You have the cleanest hands I've ever seen.”

“There's a bit of a story behind that. Do you remember me coming in here one day after scrubbing down the boat? Must be five years ago now. I'd been working with bleach all day. My nails were cleaner than they ever were in my life. I was payin' for my coffee and you said, ‘My, you have lovely hands, Gus. Why can't all men keep their nails like you?' Well, I been scrubbin' like a demon ever since.”

“You bleach your hands? For me?”

“I did. But I had to switch to lemon juice. Bleach is a little hard on the skin—even my tough old hide.”

So that explained his hands. Alex had noticed his perfect white nails the first time he shook her hand.

“Crazy old fool!” Eva blubbered. “I—I've got to get the dishes done here.”

Gus's face fell. He took a step towards Eva and stopped, his hands dropping to his sides.

Just then, Aunt Sophie and Alex's mom entered the café. They were walking slowly and whispering, their heads bent towards each other. Aunt Sophie's arm was looped through her mom's. They didn't look anything alike, but when they were side by side, you could tell they were sisters. They walked exactly the same way.

Her mom's eyes were red and swollen, like she'd been crying again.

“What's the matter, Mom?”

“Nothing, Alex.” Her mom's face quickly rearranged itself into a smile. “Just sister talk.”

Sophie gave her mom another one of her long, stern looks before plucking the bouquet from the counter. She frowned into the blooms, then shrugged and tucked them into the crook of her arm. “Ready to go, kiddo?”

Alex was grateful that neither her aunt nor her mom noticed the weird way Eva and Gus were behaving. Now they weren't even looking at each other as Gus muttered awkward good nights to them. Eva simply waved from behind the counter, not turning around.

It was dark when they went outside. The moon glittered on the rippling waves of the harbour and the ferry's lights shone brightly as it sped across the passage. Alex was stuffed. She imagined Eva's tea biscuits as little boats in her stomach, floating on the ocean of seafood chowder she had eaten. After the disaster she'd caused with Gus and Eva, it felt like the cream had all curdled inside her—a big ball of sourness.

“I don't think I'll eat again for a year,” Aunt Sophie moaned. “I lost count of how many biscuits I ate—couldn't resist. They were calling to me.”

“Then they were callin' to all of us,” Gus said from behind them.

Alex could feel her mom stiffen beside her. Gus put a light hand on Alex's shoulder, gently swinging her around.

He smiled down at her. “Owe you a debt, Alex, yes indeed,” he murmured. “And I don't forget 'em, either. Not ever.”

Gus thinks I was trying to do something good?
she thought. Shame burned Alex's cheeks. She was glad for the darkness. “But she doesn't seem happy…”

“Bit of a shock is all. Should have said somethin' years ago. She'll come around.” He gave them all a brief salute before climbing into his truck. Alex could still hear him whistling as he drove away down the street.

He was happy! Alex thought of all her own tears lately. Looking up at the ones still glistening in the moonlight on her mom's cheeks, she pictured her dad's face—an unsmiling stone mask hiding behind dark glasses.

Well, whatever the reason, at least someone was happy.

“I thought you hated skateboarding,”
Adam said. His head was bent low over his board as he adjusted the wheels.

“I do. I mean, I did.”

“So, why do you want to go?”

“That's all you do now. We never go exploring anymore.”

“This is more fun,” he said. “All you did was draw flowers and stuff while I climbed trees by myself.”

“I did that too!”

“Ha! Only if I pulled you up the tree,” he laughed.

“Stop teasing me!” Alex frowned.

“Sorry. You can go, okay?”

“Okay.”

“But you're not gonna like it,” he muttered, expertly flipping his board upright. “Skateboarding is higher on the scare-o-meter than climbing trees. Higher than roller coasters, too.”

Alex gulped.

At the Halifax Commons skatepark, she watched in awe as Adam did amazing tricks, each higher and faster than the last. He really was fearless, she thought.

“All right, sis, you're up.”

“Give me your helmet!”

He laughed and handed it over. She pulled the strap on the helmet as tight as it would go. Everyone was watching her.

“Get on and I'll push you around a bit so you can get used to the feel of it.”

“Okay.”

Alex stared at the skateboard. She willed her feet to move. They didn't. Seconds, then minutes, ticked by. The others got tired and returned to their boards, flying around her.

“C'mon, sis, you can do it. Don't be scared. I'm right here.”

“All right, all right, don't rush me!” Alex put her right foot on the back end of the skateboard and shifted her weight to that same foot, like she was stepping onto a stair.

“Not on the tail—”

“Ahh!”

The skateboard flipped up and Alex lost her balance. She would have been sprawled on the pavement if Adam hadn't grabbed her.

“Gotcha!”

Laughter erupted around her. She felt her face flush.

“It's all right,” he whispered in her ear. “Ignore them. I'll teach you when no one's around to tease you, okay? Watch, I'll show them a new trick. Then they'll forget all about laughing at you.”

He grabbed the board and zipped off.

“Wait, your helmet…” Alex tugged at the strap, but he was gone.

“Stupid law anyway,” he shouted back to her. “It's more fun without it!”

Alex watched as Adam set up for a jump. He had on a grey hoodie with an anime skateboarder on the back, baggy jeans, and blue sneakers—skate shoes, he called them.

He was flying towards her. He let out a loud whoop and leapt off the board into the air…

Alex opened her eyes, a tear trickling onto her cheek. The familiar dream was fading along with the achingly real sound of Adam's whoop of excitement. Alex lay there, wishing she could turn back time and fix everything, like they did in science fiction movies. Fix Adam, fix her parents…fix herself.

Sunlight was streaming through the window and a rumbling sound filled the air. She lay still, cocooned in her comforter in the cool early morning. Turning her head, she discovered the source of the mysterious noise. Two bright green eyes surrounded by orange fur were six inches from her face.

“Morning, Marty,” she sniffed, reaching over to pat the chubby tabby snuggled by her side. The engine sound got louder as Marty purred and closed his eyes, his long tail swishing back and forth.

If only a pat on the head was all that people needed too
, Alex thought, rubbing her eyes with her other hand. Cats were cool. She had wanted one ever since she could remember. When she and Adam were ten, her parents had said they could get a pet. But they'd argued so much about whether to get a dog or a cat that they had ended up with neither.

Alex reached under her pillow, pulling out her brother's picture. She stared at Adam's smiling face. He had been so mad at her. He didn't care that she was terrified of dogs. He didn't care about the reason, either—that Spike had attacked her in first grade.

She shivered, her arms exploding instantly in tiny goosebumps. Spike was the gigantic German shepherd her neighbours kept chained in their yard. Alex never knew why, but he would run towards her every time she walked by, almost choking on his chain as he jumped and snarled. He didn't do it to anyone else. One particular day, he broke free and chased her down the street. She tripped and he jumped on her back, ripping her new blue coat and biting her ear.

Adam blamed her when they took Spike away, saying that he only barked at her because she was a chicken and that Spike had sensed her fear and was just being a dog. “You're afraid of everything,” he'd said. That's when he'd started calling her a wuss.

Alex used to think he was being mean when he teased her. Now, it was just one more thing she felt guilty about. “Sorry you never got your puppy dog,” she whispered.

Carefully, she lifted the tabby out of her way and slid off the bed, then put him back. Marty immediately curled up on the vacated pillow, snuggling into the depression Alex's head had made.

“You're lucky to be a cat. Being a person is way too hard.” Marty blinked his already half-closed eyes at her and flipped the tip of his tail. A second later, he was asleep.

Alex tugged the window all the way open and stuck her head out. Dew glistened on the grass and a wispy mist hung low to the ground. Aunt Sophie's chickens were already making the rounds. Four fluffy yellow chicks were clucking below her window, following in a straight line behind their mom.

The smell of fresh coffee drifted down the hall. Aunt Sophie must be up. Alex changed into shorts and a T-shirt. As she brushed her teeth, she pulled back the bandage on her forehead to inspect her wound. Near her hairline, there was an angry red gash with zigzag stitches surrounded by a wicked dark purple bruise—ick! But at least she didn't have a headache this morning, and the goose egg was gone.

She peeled the old bandage with its smear of dried blood the rest of the way off and tossed it in the garbage. Rooting through the pile of supplies from the hospital, she gingerly cleaned her cut, and put on a fresh, smaller bandage. So close to her hairline, it was now barely visible.

Aunt Sophie was alone in the kitchen watering her plants. She was wearing cut-off jean shorts and a wild multicoloured tank top, with her long blonde hair pulled back in a loose braid. There was a tiny tattoo of a star on her back peeking out above the rim of her top. A copper, hand-painted watering can sat at her feet.

Alex could hear her whispering as she plucked dead blooms from the African violets perched on the windowsill.

“Are you talking to the plants?”

Aunt Sophie jumped, bumping the can. Water splashed over the rim. “Good grief, don't scare me like that! I thought you were still in bed.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Your mom's still sleeping. And your dad must have stayed in Digby last night.”

“That's weird. Mom's always up before me.” She gazed out the window. Why hadn't her dad come? Guess she couldn't blame him, really. He probably didn't like the constant fighting either.

“I don't think she slept much last night.”

“Oh.” Alex knew what that was like. She scanned the table. “Are those Eva's ham and cheese rolls?”

“Yup, she dropped off a pile of baking yesterday before we came home. She's such a doll. Addicted already, huh?”

Alex pursed her lips but didn't answer. “Can I try some?” she asked, pointing to the coffeepot.

“Sure, a small one. But you probably won't like it.” Aunt Sophie dumped a handful of the dead blooms into the organic waste. “It's a bit of an acquired taste.”

Alex pulled a mug from the cupboard and halffilled it with coffee. She topped it up with cream and two heaping teaspoons of sugar. With hardly a pause, she took a big drink.

“Aha, not your first cup of java, I see.”

Alex shrugged sheepishly. “There's a coffee shop across from school.”

“Something your mother doesn't know, I'm sure,” Aunt Sophie said as she plucked more dead blooms.

“What don't I know?”

Her mother stood at the foot of the stairs. She was still in her nightgown and her hair looked like a tangled bird's nest. “That had better not be coffee.”

“Umm…”

“Nice supervision there, sis!” Her mother poured herself a cup and sat at the table.

“She's not a baby, Colleen. Anyway, I told her she could try a taste.”

“A taste? She hangs out at the coffee shop across from her school every day. She's probably drunk more coffee than you have.”

Alex sputtered her mouthful back into her mug. “You know about that?”

Her mother raised her eyebrows. “You think I've never seen you run back across the street when I come to pick you up?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I know…definition of a mother—deaf, dumb, and blind,” she muttered. Then she glanced at the basket of baked goodies in the middle of the table. “Who are you and what have you done with my disaster-in-the-kitchen of a sister?”

“Hey!” Aunt Sophie protested. “I can bake.”

“Really? Is this the same sister who started a fire in home ec class that shut the entire school down for a week?”

“Oh, that.” She waved a dismissive hand at Alex's mother. “Totally not my fault. Those ovens were from the dark ages. I'm pretty sure they found it was something electrical—a short or whatever.”

“Uh-huh.”

While her mother was distracted, Alex gulped down another mouthful, savouring the rich flavour. It was way better than the coffee shop stuff.

“Enjoy it, Alex—that's your one and only.”

Rats! Her mother didn't miss much…when she bothered to pay attention. Alex plunked down on a chair and loaded a plate with Eva's delights.

A car door slammed.

Her mother twitched in her chair, as though someone had poked her. Aunt Sophie was clutching a handful of dead flowers, her eyes glued to her sister.

That must be Dad
, Alex thought. Where had he been all night?