Ghost Island (2 page)

CHAPTER 2

Well then, why don’t we leave?

I woke in a dim light, hearing fragments of a voice that had come in a dream.
And a name, Aaron.
No, not just a name.
I could still see his expression, his hazel eyes, and that hand reaching out to me. He had seemed so real. Then I remembered the rest of it. Although I had always sensed those who have passed on, I had never experienced anything close to those people I saw in my dream.

The boat dipped gently, as if the ocean were breathing. I needed to get ashore as soon as possible. Away from the memory of that dream and everything connected to it.

Grace had turned over in the night and pulled the blanket over her head. She moved and peeked up at me with clear green eyes.

“Thanks for helping me deal with that asshole chaperone last night.”

“Thanks for letting me share your berth.” I rolled out of it and sat on the side.

She did the same.

“You slept with your shoes on,” she said.

I looked down, realized she was right, and felt like an idiot. I had done that only one other time—my first night at the foster home. Silly, but I was scared, and I wasn’t sharing that with Grace right now.

“Never know when I might need them.”

“I take it this is your first Seminar at Sea,” she said.
“Lucky you.
My parents ship me off on one of these every year. Sorry, but I forgot your name.”

“
Livia
.
From Emeryville.
It’s a small town in the Bay Area.”

“
Livia
as in Olivia?
Classy.”

“Don’t let it fool you.”

“If you say so.”
She scrunched her nose. “You have great eyes, especially with that skin.
Exotic.
You probably hear that all the time.”

Others had used that term to describe my almond-shaped b
lu
e eyes and olive skin—even though the
others
who had done so were guys who were trying to hit on me because they didn’t have a chance with un-exotic, curvy girls like Grace.

“Couldn’t tell you anything about it,” I said. “My eyes aren’t a hot topic of conversation at the foster home.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m one of those charity cases you mentioned last night. Guess I should have told you sooner.”

“Well.” She squinted as if trying to see me in the light of this new information. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s get some caffeine into our systems. I hope it won’t rain all day.”

The cabin smelled of coffee, yet everyone there looked half-asleep. I felt a twinge of guilt for sharing Grace’s berth. I didn’t deserve more than a place on the sofa-like ledge around the small, laminated fake-wood of the table. The other eight kids didn’t seem to care that the four of us had taken the two berths.

A quiet girl named Emily sat between Ms. Gates and Mr. Freeman. Nothing stood out about her except her long, blond braid and her perfect French fingernails, tiny tips of white stroked with a delicate sheer pink. I looked down at my own short nails and felt a twinge of envy.

“Here’s the good news, team,” Mr. Freeman told us. “The water taxi will be out here any minute. It will take us to the hotel.” He looked around as if expecting us to applaud or sa
lu
te maybe.

“It’s called a shore boat,” Grace corrected him. “How far are we from Catalina?”

“Minutes, once the boat gets here.”

“Is our cruise ship still coming on Sunday?” she asked.

“There are some problems with that.” He turned away from her. “Hurry, everyone. I think it’s here.
Line up for roll call.”

The shore boat cut through the water, then turned, and aligned
itself
beside us.

“Why don’t we just get on?” Grace asked him. “You don’t have to check us off. Do you think anyone really wants to hide out on this puny boat?”

“There’s a procedure to follow, and we will follow it,” he said, with military precision. “Fifteen minutes, max, and we’ll be in our hotel, right, Ms. Gates?”

She nodded but sneaked a smile at us, as if to say she understood what a pain he was.

I pointed at the gray curtain of drizzle between the island and us and felt increasingly nervous. “The weather’s getting worse by the moment.”

Freeman huffed and shot me a narrow-eyed reprimand. “You’re the last person on this trip to be calling the shots, Olivia Hinson.”

So that was the reason for his attitude. I’d heard that message in any number of ways since our doorbell had chimed one Sunday morning, and two police detectives asked to speak with my father. This wasn’t the first time someone had delivered it so blatantly.

The other kids watched us, some smiling, and some shrinking back. I tried to look as if I didn’t care, but I was ready to burst into tears. I needed to get away from Freeman, and the best way to do that was to fake an attitude.

“What can he do to us?” I asked them. “Do you want to ditch this boat or not?

“I’m out of here,” Grace announced, obviously mistaking my panic for rebellion. “The rest of you can wait Freeman’s anal fifteen minutes if you want to.”

“Hold on,” he said. “There’s something you don’t know. A hurricane is coming up from Mexico. It’s supposed to hit any time.”

“That much more reason for us to get to our hotel as soon as we can,” I said. “It could hit while we’re out here on the water.”

“And I told you—” Freeman began.

I nudged Grace. “Let’s go.”

We walked past him, up the stairs, and out, climbing onto the smooth deck of the shore boat.

An African American guy with deep wrinkles and a navy pea coat helped me aboard. Grace followed.
Then a few kids who had been quick enough to join us.
I didn’t pay much attention to them. I was just glad to be away from the catamaran and the dream.

“Take us to Avalon.” Grace shoved a twenty at the driver. “You can come back for the rest of them.”

“Hang on. The water’s rough today.” His husky voice wasn’t all that loud, but it didn’t have to be. I reached out for the closest rail to steady myself.

Without changing his expression, he slipped the bill Grace had given him into his pocket.

She said something to him in French.

He answered, also in French.

She laughed, stood next to me, and held onto the rail.

“Hold on a minute,” Mr. Freeman shouted from the deck of the catamaran. “Don’t you dare leave before I... Ms. Gates, what the hell are you doing?”

“I can’t let them go off alone.” She jumped on just as the shore boat
lu
rched in the water.

I c
lu
tched the rail. Ms. Gates crashed into us. She caught her balance and grabbed the rail beside me.

“At least it has a canopy,” I told Grace, who was as soaking-wet as I was.

She huddled into her jacket.
“Brilliant observation.”

“Just trying to cheer you up.”

I peered through the rain, past the water tinged gray, purple, and b
lu
e. Ahead of us, I could see a c
lu
ster of boats around the base of the island. Tiny sailboats—only white slashes in the wind—a cruise ship, some chunky powerboats. Above them, the hills were dotted with structures too unfocused for me to make sense of.

Then off to my right, I saw it.
The large, round building, with the tiled roof and white co
lu
mns around its curved front.

“What’s the matter?” Grace asked.

“The building over there.”
I pointed. “I dreamed about it last night.”

“That’s crazy.” She shivered and pulled her jacket closer. “So did
I
.”

CHAPTER 3

As we neared the island and the curved building, I tried to make sense of what Grace had said. She had dreamed about it too? I needed to know if she had dreamed about the people I had seen there—Aaron, especially.

The shore line was shaped like a crescent moon. As we neared it, I caught sight of the simple wooden pier and the houses stacked on the hillside behind it. Grace didn’t seem to notice. She probably saw sights like these each time she took one of the many trips her parents’ money paid for. But right then, looking at that the tiny city shimmering through the rain in the early morning light, I knew I had never seen anything more stunning.

We pulled up to the pier in a shower of sea water. Grace spoke to the shore boat guy in French again. He answered just as he had before, and then told the rest of us, “She’s just asking my name. It’s Daniel, and I’ve got to tell you that this weather is unstable as hell. Stay out of it, okay? I’ve got to go back out and try to find the rest of your group.”

Against my will, I thought about Chris, about how he would have demanded answers. Being with him had made me feel protected, until that day when he had driven me home from school, turned his dark
eyes on me, and delivered his exit speech. “I love you,
Livia
, but I can’t do this anymore. There’s too much pressure, at home, at school. Maybe later, once your dad...you know...”

I knew, all right.

The next day the information of my newly dumped status had buzzed through school, almost as if he had told everyone else first. At the time, I was too hurt to ask Chris if he thought my dad was guilty. He’d spent time with my family. He knew how much we all cared about each other. Yet, in spite of how strong and reliable he had seemed, I saw nothing like that in his eyes that day. To my surprise, I had seen only fear.

My dad had always told me, “One day you will love someone the way I love your mom.” I had thought Chris was the one, but now I knew that nothing—not even love—was forever.

At a restaurant not far from where Daniel had moored his boat, five of us sat with Ms. Gates, protected from the rain, and eating salty fried clam strips. On the way, I had tried to talk to Grace about her dream, but she had given me only vague answers and pretended to be listening to the melodic chimes that seemed to come from the top of a hill. Maybe she had seen the ghosts too. If so, I wanted to talk to her. Not around this table, though.

She and I sat beside each other. To her right, was the short blond guy from British
Co
lu
mbia.
His name was Charles, and he was drinking cappuccino that had to be at least half sugar. Johnny sat to my left. The restaurant was warm with intricate stained-glass lining its windows and the scent of frying bacon filling the air.

Charles dunked a piece of biscotti into his coffee. Next to him was Emily, the girl with the French manicure, too-short bangs and long, pale-blond braid. She hadn’t spoken a word since we’d arrived.

Ms. Gates invited Daniel to join us, but he shook his head.

“I need to get back out there,” he said. “A lot of folks are trying to get ashore. Your people may have been blown around to Two Harbors.”

“Will they be safe there?” she asked.

“Safe as anywhere with the hurricane coming.”
He drew a wiggly shape in the air with his finger. “Here’s Catalina, right here. We’re in Avalon, the only real city on the island. Back here is Isthmus Cove where Two Harbors is.”

“Can you look for them?” Her voice was steady, but I could tell how worried she was.

“Depends on the weather.
It’s not a tourist area, which is why a lot of serious sailors hang out there. If that’s where your boat is, someone will probably help the passengers get to land, unless...well, unless the storm makes it impossible.”

“What then?” I asked.

“They’ll just need to stay put until it clears. I’ll check it out if I can.”

He left, and Emily moaned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“My phone.
I must have left it on the boat. I need to call my mom and tell her what’s happening. My grandpa’s funeral was last weekend, and she’s worried about me being away from her and my dad so soon.”

“You can use my phone,” I said. “Once it’s working again.”

“Mine’s not working either,” Ms. Gates said. “No signal.”

“Thanks.” Emily gave me a grateful smile. “My mom is going to be frantic, especially when she hears about the weather.”

“Let’s try to make the best of this,” Ms. Gates said. “Until everyone else gets here, you can each have your own room at the hotel. If weather permits, I think we should still go to the concert at the casino tonight.”

“Casino?
Cool,” Johnny said. “Maybe party a little.”

“Boy, are you in for a disappointment,” Grace told him. “Didn’t you read the materials from the travel agency?”

“I didn’t even know I was coming here until the last minute. It was a tossup between Mexico and Alaska, and I’ve already done Alaska twice. Now, I’m thinking I should have just stayed in Sacramento with my old man.” He shrugged and tried to look casual. “He’s a congressman.”

“I read the brochures.” Charles took off his glasses and smiled at Grace.
Smart move.
Even from where I sat, I could see his eyes, large and b
lu
e. “In Italian, casino means gathering place or something. No gambling, I’m afraid.
Probably not much partying either.”

“Good for you, Charles,” Grace said.

The chimes rang again.

Grace hummed along, matching their slow rhythm. “I feel like I’m supposed to give thanks for my daily bread or something. Reminds me of the five minutes I spent in Sunday school.”

“Wrigley chimes.” Charles adjusted his glasses and grinned at her.
“As in Wrigley chewing gum.
Donated in nineteen twenty-five.
The chewing gum guy had them installed to irritate the writer whose house got turned into the hotel we’re staying in. He wrote western novels, and the place is supposed to look like a pueblo.”

“You might actually impress me.” Grace tilted her head, and the lights from the stained-glass window colored her face like a mosaic. “How are we going to get all the way up the hill to get to the hotel?”

“There are golf carts for rent all over the place.”

“We’re still going to have to go out in this mess to find one.”

“I’ll go,” Charles said.

“And I’ll go with you,” Johnny added with a sidelong glance at me.

“I can’t let you do that.” Ms. Gates pulled the collar of her trench coat up around her neck and tucked her long, dark hair inside. “You kids stay here. I’ll find transportation.”

Just then, Daniel came up to us again. Although he dripped water with every step, he didn’t seem to notice or care.

“I talked to the other drivers,” he told Ms. Gates. “Just as I thought, lots of boats are holed up in Two Harbors on the cove. Yours is probably one of them. I’ll go over as soon as I get a chance.”

“Please try to,” she said. “There are young people on that boat.”

“I will. And I’ll leave my golf cart here for you. Take a left about a block and a half from here, and you’ll find a place where you can rent more.”

That was what we did. Grace and I ended up in the back of a cart with Ms. Gates driving, and Emily in the seat beside her. I turned around and saw Johnny behind the wheel of the cart behind us with Charles sitting next to him.

Although we could see the back of the Zane Grey Pueblo Hotel, the path was narrow, rugged, and uphill. As we grew nearer, we passed the gnarled cactus plants that the original owner had transplanted there from the southwest to make his coastal home appear more Western. The combination of cactus and ocean made a crazy sort of sense. Now if the rain would only stop so that we wouldn’t be thoroughly soaked by the time we got there.

I looked back down the hill at the cart behind us. “Charles likes you,” I whispered to Grace.

“He has excellent taste.”

That made us both laugh.

“Johnny likes you,” she said. “He’s been checking you out the whole time.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I pushed my bangs off my forehead.

“Hair as long as yours can be too much of a good thing. Those bangs hide your eyes. You know that, don’t you?”

“I like them that way.”

I didn’t mention that I hadn’t cut my hair since my mom disappeared. At first it was a way of marking time. Then it became a kind of protection. I did trim my bangs once in a while when they were so long I couldn’t see, but no one had paid attention to my appearance anyway. Nice as it was to be noticed, I was still freaked about the guy in my dream, and I couldn’t fully appreciate it.

“But your eyes are killer.”

“Thanks,” I said, and then I b
lu
rted out, “I need to ask you something. About your dream last night, I mean.”

“I can’t remember.” The wind tangled her hair across her face. “You know how it is. Real one minute, and five minutes after you wake up, it’s gone.”

“Were there people in it?” I asked.

“I guess so. It was over so fast I don’t really know what happened. Can we change the subject?”

“I just want to know what you saw.”

“What are you two arguing about?” Emily turned around abruptly.

“We’re not arguing,” I said. “We’re talking about dreams.”

Her face froze. “I had a crazy dream last night, myself. It seemed real.
My grandpa.
He was here, alive. We were in that casino building down there. My grandma was in it too. At least, I think she was. She was wearing that same apron she’d made when she was teaching me how to sew.”

“What else?” I asked.

“Nothing.
That’s all.”

Without another word, she turned back around.

Grace didn’t seem to notice. She studied me with those harsh green eyes. “Why’s this so important all of a sudden?”

“We might have all had the same dream,” I told her. “It scared me, and I thought maybe it scared you too.”

“Not at all.”
She crossed her arms and glared at me. “You and I may have dreamed about the same place, but it wasn’t the same dream, believe me.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I wasn’t afraid of mine.
It was good, and it was over too fast, thanks to that damned rocking boat.”

“Was there a guy in yours?”

“No.
A girl.”
She stared straight ahead. “I thought she might be my sister.”

“You have a sister?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not anymore. Now leave it alone, will you?”