Surfacing - Book One in the Swans Landing Series

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was the first restful sleep I’d had in a long time.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept, only that the sky had begun to darken outside Josh’s bedroom windows when my eyes fluttered open.

No nightmares had plagued my sleep. I didn’t even remember dreaming. Rolling over, I found Josh still sleeping at my side, one arm draped over me. He snored softly from his slightly open mouth. A deep, peaceful sleep. I traced the curve of his jawbone with my fingers and smiled.

His room smelled like him. His salty, musky scent surrounded me and I breathed deep. While he slept, I took the opportunity to survey Josh’s room for any insight into his inner workings. A few random pictures hung on the deep green walls. One photo was of what must have been his mom and dad and himself as a baby, and the others were all posters of his favorite musicians or various beach landscape pictures like you’d buy at a home decor store. Except one.

Sitting up, I examined the picture on the wall opposite from the bed. It was a beach landscape, like the others. But unlike the others, this one wasn’t sketched or painted.

Instead it was made up of tiny shells and bits of glass.

Moving at a snail’s pace, I eased myself from Josh’s side and slipped from the bed. When I moved closer, the intricate detail that had gone into making the picture was obvious. The blue and white shells of the ocean blended perfectly to look like waves crashing onshore. The shells that formed the sand weren’t just brown, but every conceivable shade of brown, tan, beige, gold. The sailboat on the horizon actually looked as if the wind blew it across the water. It must have taken the artist hours to create. Something only someone very skilled in working with shells would have been capable of.

I blinked at the picture, trying to make sense of it. Dylan’s words from that first day I’d come here drifted through my memory. “He made this really cool picture of the beach, with foam on the water and a boat on the horizon. It’s made entirely out of shells and glass.”

But why would Josh have Lake’s picture?

My gaze moved over to the corner of the picture, in which a figure walked along the beach. A small, dark woman, with wild hair. And in her arms, something that looked like a smaller figure, a baby perhaps. Next to that, etched into the edge of the frame were the letters L.W.

“Mmm,” came a moan from the bed. Josh rolled over, rubbing at his eyes. “What time is it?”

I retrieved my jacket from the floor, suddenly chilled, as I tried to sort out the reasons that Josh might have Lake’s artwork.

“So that’s an interesting picture,” I said casually, gesturing toward the wall.

Josh’s eyes flickered toward the picture, then down to the floor. “Yeah,” he said. “It was my mom’s. Someone gave it to her years ago.”

“And now it’s yours,” I said.

Josh shrugged. “She didn’t want it. It seemed like a shame to throw it away. It obviously took a lot of time to create.”

I could tell that Josh suspected I knew who had created the picture, but neither of us said anything.

“Do you know who that is supposed to be?” I asked, pointing at the little figures in the corner.

“No,” Josh said. “Just a person, I guess.”

If anyone but Lake had created it, it might have been just a person. A random person from their imagination holding a baby. But something tingled inside of me and I couldn’t help wondering if maybe, just maybe it was meant to be my mom and me.

But if it was, why had Lake given it away? He couldn’t stand to keep a reminder of us around? If he threw out all evidence that we existed, then maybe he could live peacefully and pretend that we never had. Because of course, that would be easier than actually trying to reconcile with Mom or being a dad.

The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed down the hall toward us. Josh’s eyes widened.

“Is it after six already?” He looked over his shoulder at the door, then turned back, scanning his room. “You need to get out of here.”

“I have to walk back out there to get out.”

Josh headed to the window and pulled the blinds back. But escaping out of his window wouldn’t work as it had at Dylan’s. There was no wraparound deck I could climb onto. Josh let out a sigh, but he didn’t look any less agitated than before. “Maybe I can distract her and you can slip by.”

“Is your mom going to kill you if she finds a girl in your room?” I asked.

Josh bit his lip. “Not just any girl,” he said at last. “You.”

What was wrong with me?

Josh peeked out of his bedroom door. We could hear his mom walking around in the kitchen.

“This is ridiculous,” I told him. “You’re seventeen years old. It’s time to stop being afraid of your mom.”

Josh hesitated. My rationale had little effect on his panic. “Stay here. I’ll try to figure out a way to distract her so you can leave. All right?”

I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Fine.”

Josh disappeared down the hall, calling, “Mom? How was your doctor’s appointment?”

“Josh?” I heard a woman answer back. “I didn’t think you were home. The house was dark and quiet.”

“I was taking a nap. I’m a little tired today.”

What did he mean by, it wasn’t just any girl that his mom would have a problem with, but me? His mom didn’t even know me. I could have passed his mom a thousand times a day and wouldn’t have known who she was.

“I decided to cancel my appointment,” his mom said. “So I went shopping instead. Want to see what I bought?”

“And where exactly did you get the money to go shopping?”

“I had some extra change lying around.”

“Mom.” Josh sounded angry. “You can’t keep canceling appointments. You need to see the doctor. You need your medicines.”

“I am not a child, Joshua,” his mom snapped. “I can make decisions about my own health. And if I think I don’t need the pills anymore, I’m not taking them.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Josh said. “You know you have to take the pills so you don’t have another incident.”

Cabinet doors slammed. “Drop it, Josh. This isn’t your concern.”

My curiosity got the best of me. I moved toward the door, peeking out into the hall. Josh and his mom were still in the kitchen, but out of sight, so I crept down the hall a little to move closer.

“I’m the only one who is concerned around here,” Josh said. His voice was tight, as if he held back anger and sadness. “The bills aren’t getting paid. Your pills sit untouched. You’re spending money we don’t have on things we don’t need. I’m the one who has had to watch you fall apart slowly over the years.”

“Dammit, Joshua, I am not crazy!” His mom’s voice rose to a shrill shriek. “I know what those people are trying to do to us. They walk around here like they have no care in the world, like their hands are completely clean of blood. They are the reason your father is dead. Don’t forget that.”

“Mom, I think—”

But I didn’t hear what Josh thought because the floor creaked as I stepped forward. Josh and his mom both turned, their gazes falling on me standing in the hall.

And as my eyes met Mrs. Canavan’s, I realized that I did in fact know her.

Because she was the woman who had stood in Lake’s front yard, screaming and throwing rocks. The same woman who had haunted me that day on the bus when I first came to Swans Landing.