AWAKENING: A YOUNG ADULT PARANORMAL ROMANCE (THE EQUINOX PACT Book 1) Read online

  “Are you asking me if she’s still drinking and smoking?” When he nodded, I gave him a patient smile. “This is Aunt Jackie we’re talking about. But it wasn’t too bad.” When Aunt Jackie was off her shift at the hospital, she maintained a busy cheap-vodka-and-Parliament Lights schedule, but she wasn’t mean. “She said I was welcome to stay.”

  My dad stopped walking. “Absolutely not. You’re not going back down there—your aunt means well, but that’s no place for you. I want you out of that city. After what happened…” He shook his head. “And don’t say a word about Aunt Jackie’s offer in front of Becky, if you know what I mean.”

  We hadn’t had much time to talk about how, exactly, he’d wrangled Becky’s permission for me to come and live with them. Although I supposed the fact that he was my only parent left had something to do with it. I swallowed hard. “It must have been…difficult…for her to agree to this.”

  He started toward the restaurant. “She didn’t have a choice.”

  “I bet that went over well.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” His forehead creased. “I guess it took what happened with your mom for me to grow a backbone, but there you have it. I’m sorry, kid.”

  I opened my mouth but then my eyes filled with tears, so I closed it. I waited for my composure to return and then asked, “Do you think the restaurant’s hiring? I need to keep busy.”

  “Well you’re in luck!” My dad grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “One of their little waitresses just got a fancy internship in Manhattan and had to leave the island. I already put a word in for you with the owner, so I think you’re in good shape.”

  “Do they know I’ve never waited tables before?” The idea of serving tourists and locals alike every night in the busy restaurant was daunting, but it was better than tiptoeing around Becky in her mausoleum of a house all summer.

  “They know you’re a good kid and a hard worker, and that’s all that matters.” Dad smiled at me as we reached the pier that led to the restaurant. An art gallery and a souvenir shop shared the landing. A beach, hewn with rocks at low tide, bordered the small wharf on the right. Sometimes when it was high tide, and the bar had been busy, people jumped off the restaurant’s roof right into the ocean.

  The smell of fried haddock and French fries wafted out from the screen door, and my stomach growled. Dad squeezed my shoulders, and I knew he was happy I’d arrived. “C’mon. The cook this summer is really good.” A friendly hostess showed us to a table for four by the windows. Even in the early afternoon, the bar was packed. The bartender, who was young and ridiculously attractive, had short dreadlocks, dark skin and a diamond stud in her nose. She expertly poured out a line of tequila shots for a group of lobstermen, not spilling a drop.

  “I guess they got a good haul today,” I mused.

  “Yeah they did. Plus, they go to bed so early, it’s about cocktail hour for them right now.” Kyle chuckled.

  “Hey Big Kyle, you want one of these?” One of the guys held up a shot.

  “Nah, I’m still on the clock, Rich.” Dad smiled at him. “I’m having lunch with my little girl.”

  Rich’s jaw dropped. “That’s Taylor? Good lord, when did you get so grown up?” He and the other fishermen came over. “I’m real sorry to hear about your mom,” Rich said.

  “T-Thanks.”

  They switched gears easily, chatting and asking how my school year had gone. I hadn’t seen any of these men for several years. When I was younger, I spent most Julys on the island. But Becky has said the long visits were “confusing” for Amelia, so for the past few summers I’d just come up for a quick weekend or two.

  “God Kyle, she looks just like you,” Rich said.

  “Aw, that’s sweet. You think I look that good?” Kyle laughed.

  “Excuse me.” Becky elbowed her way past the throng of lobstermen to the table, a sulky looking Amelia in tow. “Do you mind if we sit?”

  Rich gave her an easy smile. “Not at all, Bec. You enjoy your lunch, now.” He and the others made haste back toward the bar as Becky pulled out a chair for Amelia and blinked at her husband. “You want to say something?”

  Kyle looked at her, stymied. “Um.”

  She gesticulated to their daughter. “How about hello?”

  “Hello Amelia.” He smiled at his younger daughter and she smiled back.

  “Hi Dad. Hey, Taylor.” Amelia was pretty like her mother, with a smattering of freckles, blue eyes, and thick, naturally blond hair that fell past her shoulders. She already had a light tan beneath her white tee and lavender athletic shorts. But pretty as she was, there was something off about her face, a constant sneer around her nose. She looked like she perpetually smelled something sour, like a big clump of used cat litter was somehow following her around.

  I made myself smile at my half-sister. Maybe she’s changed? “Hey. How were your sailing lessons?”

  Amelia made a gagging noise. “Terrible. Mrs. Sutherland is, like, the biggest douche.”

  Hasn’t changed much.

  Dad went rigid. “Amelia.” He kept his voice low, but it was loaded. “Do not speak like that.”

  Becky came to her daughter’s rescue. “Mrs. Sutherland made them tie knots for the past three hours. She’s too old to still be teaching—she sucked back when I had her. Two grand a summer for lessons, and they’re doing knots. It’s ridiculous, and I’m totally complaining.”

  Kyle looked at his wife like she was crazy. “What good do you think that’s going to do?”

  Becky shrugged, whipped out her phone, and started scrolling. “Did you order me an iced tea?” Her tone indicated she was expecting to be disappointed. Every question, every statement Becky made seemed loaded. It was like walking in an emotional minefield. One false step and boom.

  “Not yet. No one’s been over.” Either Kyle had unlimited patience, or he’d learned the hard way that it was easier to play nice.

  “Well, since you were so busy socializing, they probably didn’t want to interrupt.” She didn’t look up. “Amelia, posture.” But Amelia whipped out her own phone and hunched over it, ignoring her mother’s admonition. The two of them didn’t say another word as they continued to scroll.

  My dad frowned. “It was really nice of you to join us.”

  “Huh?” Becky looked up, confused.

  I was momentarily distracted from the discomfort level at our table by a stunning picnic boat pulling up to the nearby dock. My dad had taught me enough for me to recognize the boat as a Hinckley, a luxury brand made locally on MDI. Its beautiful real-wood hull gleamed in the early afternoon sunlight. A young man wearing a baseball hat and a rumpled white button-down shirt hopped out to tie it up. I caught a glimpse of his face, handsome, with a square jaw. He looked a little older than me, maybe twenty. I didn’t recognize him.

  Norumbega, the boat read.

  I felt eyes on me and turned to find the bartender staring. I smiled but she looked down, fastidiously drying a glass.

  “That Champlain kid has his friends living up at the house this summer. I heard there’s some weird stuff going on.” Becky scrunched her nose and stared out at the dock. “Marybeth said Donnie saw him out on his boat in the middle of the night, doing some sort of chant in the bay. She heard he’s running some sort of cult.”

  Kyle let out a bark of laughter. “Marybeth needs to do something besides gossip and host wine o’clock.”

  Becky stared him down. “This is the first summer he’s ever spent up here, but he doesn’t even bother with the locals. He never talks to anyone besides his friends. Not one word. And he has all those strange people coming over, parking at his dock and going up to the Tower. You notice that?”

  “Yeah well, maybe he’s just doing his own thing. Nothing wrong with that,” Kyle said.

  “What’s a cult?” Amelia asked. “You mean, like, that Leah Remini show?”

  “Yes—it’s like a religious group, but they’re usually smaller. And dangerous.” Becky narrowed her eyes at her
daughter. “Don’t ever join one.”

  “James is hot, though.” Amelia raised her eyebrows as she watched him finish tying the boat. “He’s, like, the only guy on this island worth looking at. I don’t care if he is in a cult, he can recruit me.”

  “Amelia.” Kyle grimaced and looked up at the ceiling, as though he were begging for some help from heaven above.

  But Becky smiled indulgently at her daughter. “Oh honey, I get it, trust me. He’s handsome and he’s rich.” It seemed like a thinly veiled dig at my father, but again he didn’t flinch. “But no cults for you, and no college boys. Now sit up straight young lady, or I am disconnecting the Wi-Fi when we get home.”

  4

  STANDING APOLOGY

  There was nothing worse than being a guest, I decided. I’d never gotten comfortable at Aunt Jackie’s apartment, which was cramped and messy. For different reasons, there was no way I’d ever relax at Becky’s house.

  Still, I admired the cedar shingles and tasteful white trim of the farmhouse-style home as we pulled down the long gravel drive. Becky’s house boasted six bedrooms, six bathrooms, two fireplaces, and Viking appliances. There was the new addition of an outdoor fire pit and small, immaculate in-ground pool that no one ever seemed to use.

  The inside of the house was pristine. This was no summer cottage with Downeast charm. It was like living in a museum, one decorated in Restoration Hardware. I never knew where it was safe to sit—Amelia had once told me that their throw pillows cost four hundred dollars each. How did my big, rugged father survive here? He was like a bull in an Anthropologie shop.

  Becky gave me a different room this time, one that had its own staircase at the back of the kitchen and a private bathroom. I guessed it was originally the maid’s quarters, but I didn’t care. The room was cheerful, with a multicolored bed spread and paintings of the island on the bright-white walls. I loved it. Maybe I could hide in there all summer and never come out.

  But I’d have to leave the safety of my room, and soon. After lunch Dad had brought me over to meet the Portside owner, Jenny. She admitted to being desperate for another server and hired me on the spot. My first shift was in an hour, and I had to get ready. Relieved that I’d already met Becky’s condition of securing employment, I unpacked my clothes and put them carefully into the dresser. I put on the white polo shirt and black shorts that Jenny had given me, then tied the apron around my waist. The uniform smelled funny, and felt stiff and new, but there was no time to wash it. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and brushed my teeth.

  Becky was in the kitchen when I went downstairs. As soon as she saw me, I could tell that she was annoyed, and was going to be annoyed by my presence all year. Or more precisely, the rest of my life.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m heading back to the restaurant. They’re going to train me tonight.”

  Her cool blue eyes flicked over me. “Good luck.” Her tone, as always, had an edge of disapproval to it.

  My dad stepped into the room and gave her a look. Becky tensed up—she hadn’t known he was there. “Hey there,” he said to me. “You look ready to go, except—aren’t you wearing sneakers for your shift?”

  I looked down at my cheap flip flops, cheeks heating. “These are all I have.”

  Becky tsked behind me and my father’s jaw went taut. “Honey, can you please lend Taylor a pair of sneakers? You’re the same size, if I remember correctly.”

  “We are not the same size.”

  “What size are you?” he asked me gently.

  “Seven.”

  He turned to his wife. “And you?”

  “Seven and a half,” she said triumphantly.

  “Close enough. Now please go get her a pair, and some socks. She can’t be serving food in her flip flops.”

  Becky opened her mouth to argue but Kyle stopped her with another look. “You have a thousand pairs of shoes. You can spare some for Taylor. I’ll take her off-island to get a new pair tomorrow.”

  Becky stomped up the stairs and my dad shook his head. “Sorry.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not your fault, but I don’t want to make it any worse for you.”

  Becky came back to the kitchen a minute later. She dangled a pair of pristine white, unworn running shoes out toward me like I had the plague and she was unwillingly giving me the antidote. “Your father doesn’t need to take you off-island just to go shopping. He has to work tomorrow, and he promised Amelia he’d take her to the beach.” She handed me the sneakers. “You can keep these, and the socks. I don’t want them back.”

  “Thanks.” Even though what she meant was, she wouldn’t want them back because I was going to wear them.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on my daughter. She said she has a headache.” Again, her tone was accusatory. At me for probably causing the headache, at my dad for not caring enough about it.

  Dad waited while I laced the sneakers up. “I’ll walk you down to the dock.” Once we were outside, he took a deep breath. “You know you have my standing apology when it comes to Becky.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He’d covered for her when I was younger, but there was no disguising her position now.

  “I swore I’d never get divorced again, and we have Amelia, so…” He shrugged. “I’m just rolling along.”

  I nodded.

  “I wish she wasn’t jealous, but she is. Always has been.”

  “Of what?” This was the part that really got to me. Becky had everything—she’d already won. “She’s jealous of your junkie ex-wife and your daughter you barely see? What’s she so afraid of? I’m going to college next year.”

  “Taylor.” My dad winced. “Maybe she thinks it’s some sort of a competition between you and Amelia, but it isn’t like that. She doesn’t understand, I guess.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m not mad at you.”

  “I know you aren’t. But maybe you should be. I’ve tried to keep things on an even keel and that’s won out over being a father to you. That’s not fair.”

  “I’m fine. I’ve always been fine.” It was the truth.

  He hesitated. “The circumstances are awful, but I’m still glad you’re here. I feel like I’m getting the second chance I don’t deserve.”

  “Don’t say that.” I squeezed his arm. The thing with my dad was, he was a good guy. He capitulated to Becky, but I didn’t judge him for that. He was out of his depth. He was trying to be good to Becky, Amelia and me—and even to my mom, back when she would let him help. How could I be mad at him for trying his best?

  My mother thought I was naive because I wasn’t angry that he’d started a “new” family. But I wasn’t and never had been. My mother was the one who’d ended their marriage. And my dad, despite being far away and remarried, had never once let me down. Becky was so wealthy that he didn’t have to work, but he still managed the co-op so he could support me and my mom. He faithfully called me twice a week and texted every day. Even though it’d pushed Becky right over the edge, he’d immediately started custody proceedings when things started to go really down the tubes back home. But Mom’s final overdose happened before the court date, and then there was nothing left to fight over.

  Dad and I had agreed that I was going to spend the last three months of my junior year at Aunt Jackie’s, and then I was coming to the island. I was supposed to finish school at Mount Desert Island High, but I didn’t know if I could last a whole year with Becky and Amelia, and vice versa.

  Dad looked down at the bright-white sneakers Becky had given me. “You don’t own a pair of running shoes, do you?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t know—I thought she was using the money I sent to take care of you. But that’s no excuse, because it’s my job to know.” He cursed under his breath. “If I’d come down there more, if I’d been there for you and your mother, things never would’ve gotten so out of control.”

  “Dad.” I stopped walking. “Now isn’t the time to get into it, but even I didn’t kno
w what was going on until it was too late.” My mother had always had issues, but the abruptness with which the drugs had claimed her was almost unfathomable. It’s not like she came home one day and made an announcement: I tried heroin, and oh fuck, it’s game over. It was just…game over. There was life before heroin, and then there was nothing but heroin, and then there was just nothing.

  “The first time I called 9-1-1, I thought she was having a stroke,” I said. “I had no idea. She was shaking and her lips were blue. The paramedics gave her Narcan and kept asking how much she’d shot, and if she’d mixed it with alcohol. I had no idea she was using, and I was living with her.”

  “I can’t believe you had to see your mother like that.” He sounded like he might cry. He stared out at the water for a minute, collecting himself. “We should get you to the restaurant. I don’t want you to be late for your first shift.”

  “Yeah.”

  We started walking again and my dad said, “Worcester’s one of the worst cities for drugs. I know you’d never do anything like that, but I don’t want you going back down there. You’ve seen enough. You need to just be a kid.”

  “I appreciate that, but what about Becky? I don’t know if she can last a whole year with me. She can barely get through lunch.”

  “She doesn’t have a choice. I’m your father. It’s about time I started acting like it.”

  “Dad—”

  “C’mon now.” He forced a smile. “Let me beat myself up a little. I deserve a lot worse. And as for Becky, I can handle her.”

  I wanted to arch an eyebrow, but I instead, I forced a smile in return. “Okay Dad. If you say so.”

  5

  WAITING

  I’d had a feeling that waiting tables was going to be an unmitigated disaster, and I was right. Jenny, the owner, said I’d be trained, but what she really meant was that I’d be thrown to the wolves and that the kitchen staff would grimace every time I went back there and asked another dumb question.