It was probably the old man’s, and might get wet, but it would save the inside of this house. Placing the light straight up on the counter again, he maneuvered and pushed until he got the heavy chair in front of the door.
He tested it, leaned on it, and slid on the wet floor.
“Can I come out there?” Pepper called.
“Yeah, it’s safe.”
She appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, clutching Atlas, terror in her eyes.
“We’re fine,” he said. “The door didn’t hold, but if you have some towels, I can dry the floor. Where should I?—”
“Just come back. We’ll get it in the morning. Just come and hold us.”
He didn’t have to be asked twice.
With the wind at a high-pitched scream, he followed them back into the bedroom, the three of them tucking close together, and inviting the dogs onto the bed. Jonah covered the baby and Pepper with his arm, humming to both of them because…because it’s what his mom did when he was scared.
Whatever she was going to tell him could wait. Tonight, the five creatures in this house were huddled and hoping the storm would pass soon.
Once it did, he’d face the one that had been in her eyes. He didn’t care. Whatever she told him wouldn’t matter.
He protected his little pack of precious people and listened to the wind and rain, making sure to remember that this was what falling in love felt like.
Someday, he’d tell Atlas about this moment. And he hoped, crazy as it was, that Pepper would be there to tell him, too.
July 19, 1995
Dear Diary,
Sorry about the handwriting. The room is doing a thing. We’ll get to that.
So tonight was the big bonfire on the public beach—the BIG one, with kids from all over and major sound from a whole boom box system so you can hear Boyz II Men until your ears fall off.
Kate and I almost didn’t go because those things are always such a Tessa-fest, but Peter and Eli were going, so it was like a thing and we went. And had fun!! Despite the fact that Peter never even glanced at me all night but was nose deep into some girl named Whitney who was up from Miami where I hope she returns and soon. (Tessa called her Whitless and I love her for that.)
Anyway. Brooke and Lauren showed up. They are a couple of girls who also come in the summers (from New Jersey—with insane accents). They are a lot of fun and a little bit (a lot) wild, and Brooke had a thermos. A pretty pink thermos that did NOT contain hot chocolate.
Vodka. And tonic. Apparently.
I took a sip. Okay, fine. I took more than one sip. Maybe…six? Kate did take one and swished it around like mouthwash and, when no one was looking, she spit it out and made a facelike she’d licked a battery, which honestly is the funniest thing I have seen her do all summer.
It is possible that I had seven sips. I lost count.
So, for the record, vodka is SNEAKY. It tastes like nothing. Like fizzy sweet water. (That might be the tonic.) And then approximately fifteen minutes later you are…laughing. And feeling a little unstoppable.
So I took one look at Peter and…Kate stepped in and did the stopping. I probably owe her my life, and tomorrow, when I’m not loopy, I will thank her.
Because I was going to tell him that I am prettier than Whitless, but Kate grabbed my arm and said, in her quiet Kate sane and sober voice, “Vivien Lawson, you are not doing that,” and she walked me down the beach in the other direction, away from Peter and Whitney and the boom box, and she would not let go of my arm until we were halfway home.
She saved my life. I am not being dramatic. She saved my whole life.
Halfway up the dune path I started laughing about it and once I started, I could not stop, and then Kate started laughing because I was laughing, and we were holding onto each other to stay upright and we were already giggling like idiots when we came around the corner of the porch and, shockeroo, Officer Maggie was waiting on the porch.
Listening to us giggle our fool heads off.
Since I’ve never had more than a stolen sip of wine, I don’t know if I “sobered up” but I sure got serious. I tried to walk normally. I tried VERY hard for normalcy. But after seven—OKAY EIGHT—sips of Brooke’s non-hot-chocolate-thermos? Walking was like advanced calculus.
I swayed. A little.
