The Drifter (15 page)

And she could see it now—hovering in midair—fuzzy and indistinct through the storm—and it seemed to be moving—drifting into the rocks, drifting out again—but maybe it was only the rain distorting it, only the wind blowing it, she couldn't tell. She only knew it was there and that it seemed to be struggling with the storm, and that suddenly—
somehow
—she wanted to help it, just as that other Carolyn must have wanted to help those poor doomed sailors that night of the storm—

And maybe it is one of those sailors
—
maybe it's one of those sailors struggling and dying down there—struggling all for nothing, because he's doomed to drown over and over and over again until he's finally reunited with the one he loved most in life
—

“
Maaathewww!
”

Carolyn's heart gave a jolt.

She looked around wildly, trying to see, and then to her horror the sound came again.

“
Maaathewww!
”

It came out from nowhere, and yet she'd heard it before—she
knew
she'd heard it before—when she'd been exploring along the cliffs—a voice blown away on the wind, striking a chord deep, deep in her soul—

“
Maaathewww!
”

She stepped farther out onto the walkway, her hands in her hair now, trying to keep it from her eyes, trying to peer into the darkness where that strange hazy light bobbed and dipped among the deathrocks near the water—

“Is anyone there!” Carolyn screamed. “Where are you?”

And in her mind she saw the battered ship—the bodies tossed about helplessly by the waves—the captain's face contorted in shock as he watched his hand being chopped off and he realized he was going to die—
but you know it's not really happening now, don't you, Carolyn
—
you know you're just dreaming
—
just imagining things
—
you don't really hear Captain Glanton calling his own name
—
it's just the shriek and howl of the wind
—

“Where are you!” she screamed again. “Is anyone there?”

And she was sobbing now, because the call sounded so desperate, so pleading, and she felt its pain, its loneliness, as deep and as real as her own pain and loneliness—

“
Maathewww
…” the voice mocked her, and Carolyn screamed back at it—

“Stop it! You're not real! You're only in my mind!”

She was as far as she could go now, standing on the widow's walk, her hands around the railing, and she could feel the soggy weight of her nightgown whipping around her, and her hair streaming wildly in the wind, and she leaned forward, straining far, far over the endless abyss of the night—

She didn't hear the boards giving out beneath her.

Didn't hear the sudden groan and snap of old wood rotting through, the rusty creak of the railing swinging away …

And in that last coherent second, Carolyn only felt a strange, slow surprise as the darkness rushed up to meet her.

16

“
C
AROLYN!
”

She could hear it, somewhere through the wind, a voice calling her, but a different voice this time, not the one by the cliffs, not the one from the storm—

“
Carolyn! Hang on!
”

Reality slammed into her with such force that she reeled from the impact. As she screamed and screamed again, she realized she was dangling in midair, wind and rain lashing her from all sides, and that someone high above was holding on to one of her hands.

“Help!” Carolyn shrieked. “Oh, God, help me!”

“Hold on!” the voice shouted again. “Whatever you do, don't let go! You hear me, Carolyn? You hold on!”

“I can't! I'm slipping!”

“No, you're not—I've got you! Don't look down!”

But she did look down—before she could stop herself, she looked down and saw the stormy blackness around her, the sheer drop beneath her, and as she swung helplessly in the air, lightning ripped from the churning clouds, suspending everything in an eerie glow.

“I'm falling!” she sobbed, and there were strong hands around her wrist, and she was flopping through the air like a rag doll as someone began pulling her up.

“You're not falling! Give me your other hand—reach up and hold on to me! Do it, Carolyn—do it
now!
”

With a superhuman effort, she managed to twist her body and fling her other arm upward, crying out in terror as it swept uselessly through empty air and threw her off balance.

“Try it again, Carolyn! Reach for me!”

She was practically hysterical now, but somehow she did it. This time her hand met with something solid, and seconds later she felt herself being drawn up with agonizing slowness. The wind tossed her like a sail—her arms felt wrenched from their sockets. After an eternity, she felt the jagged edge of the balcony and then arms were around her, pulling her the rest of the way to safety. With one last cry she fell through the doorway and onto the attic floor.

For a long time she lay there, shivering and disoriented.

The attic was unnaturally quiet after the deafening roar of the storm.

And when she finally tried to sit up, she realized that someone was holding her—that she was pressed against his bare chest, with his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her cheek.…

“Carolyn,” Joss murmured, “it's okay … you're safe.”

Slowly she raised her eyes, gazing into the half shadow of his face. She could smell night and wind and rain on his skin, in his hair, and as his arms tightened around her, she choked back a sob.

“Don't,” Joss said quietly. “Everything's all right.”

“But—but—” She couldn't even talk, her voice was shaking so badly, like her body was shaking and her teeth were chattering, and her heart was pounding out of control—“I went out there—I thought I heard—”

“Carolyn,” he whispered. He put one hand to her forehead and gently smoothed back her hair. He was so close to her now, only the clinging fabric of her nightgown separated them. In the darkness she felt the slight shift of his body, and then his lips were on hers, his fingers stroking her cheeks, his kiss long and deep and tender.

Carolyn felt his hands slide down her neck, onto her shoulders. She shivered as they moved slowly down her arms, wrapping around her waist, pressing her even closer.

She tilted her face up to his. She slipped her arms around his neck and clung to him. His lips moved to her throat and lingered there, and as she drew her breath in sharply, he suddenly released her and pulled away.

“Go downstairs,” he said, and his voice sounded hoarse and strained, hollow in the darkness of the room. “Get into something dry. Then we'll talk.”

“No—you don't understand—”

“Come on.” He was forcing her to her feet now, shining a flashlight ahead of them, leading her back down the stairs and along the second-floor hallway. “Go in and change. Then you can tell me what happened.”

Even in her current state, Carolyn sensed somehow that he was angry with her.
Because of the accident? Because of the kiss? Going out there was a stupid thing to do
—
I could have killed myself and him, too
—

“Hurry up,” Joss said tightly. “I'll be in the kitchen.”

He is mad. Well, can I blame him?

“I'm so sorry,” she mumbled, “it's just that I saw that light—heard that voice—” but Joss's grip was almost painful, and he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Change your clothes,” he ordered.

She was too drained to argue. She closed her door and fell across her bed, burying her face in the pillow.
What happened up there in the attic?
Her mind raced, and her heart beat frantically. Something horrible,
but he rescued me.…
Something deadly,
but he saved my life
.

She'd never been kissed like that before. In the safety of her room, Carolyn closed her eyes and tried to shut out everything that had happened up there, but she could still feel it—Joss's kiss—his lips on hers, insistent, demanding—and how she'd responded with a startling intensity of her own.

What's he going to think of me?

She couldn't face him. There was no way she could get dressed and go downstairs now and sit there calmly discussing her accident and look him in the eye without reliving that kiss.

But she had to go, of course. Sooner or later she'd have to face him again
… so it might as well be tonight
.

Without warning the lights blinked on—dimmed—then brightened back to full power. Carolyn stared at her bedside lamp, then out at the flashes of lightning beyond her window.
Maybe he thought I was hysterical and I wasn't responsible for my actions and I won't remember what happened, and maybe if I'm really lucky he'll forget about the whole thing
.

But she thought of his kiss again, and how she'd felt wrapped tightly within the strength of his arms, and her whole body went so hot and weak, she could hardly change clothes.

Joss was at the stove when she finally got to the kitchen. His feet were bare, and his wet jeans clung to him like a second skin. Still shirtless, he'd draped a towel around his neck and smoothed his damp hair back behind his ears. The kitchen smelled warm and homey, and Carolyn saw that he was making cocoa. At first he didn't seem to realize she was even there, so she had time to slip into a chair and compose herself before he glanced over and nodded.

“Thought you could use something hot to drink,” he said softly.

She swallowed and forced a smile. “Thanks. That's nice.”

He kept standing there stirring the spoon in the pan. Caroline kneaded her fingers together, rested her hands on the tabletop, and stared at them.

“You could have been killed tonight,” Joss said at last. “I guess you know that.”

“I do know that.” Carolyn's voice got slightly defensive. “I really don't know what to say. You saved my life. I can't think of anything grateful enough to—”

“Forget it,” Joss said.

“Forget it? But if you hadn't been there—”

“It's okay.” He lifted his hand in a gesture for silence. Carolyn twisted her fingers together until they ached.

“Joss—”

“I guess you had a good
reason
for going out there.”

He sounded ready for anything, no matter how stupid her reason might turn out to be, so Carolyn took a deep breath and plunged in. She told him about the power going out, and how the attic door had been open; how she'd heard the voice calling and seen the distant light only seconds before her accident. She told him everything, and during the whole time he just kept stirring the pan and not talking, until finally she couldn't stand it any longer.

“Well, aren't you going to say something?” she demanded.

He turned around and fixed her with a calm, dark stare.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Well … that you believe me would certainly be a good start.”

He seemed to be considering this. He turned back to the stove.

“I'm not making it up!” Carolyn insisted. “I didn't imagine it! And I've heard that voice before when I was out on the cliffs! I almost fell that time, too!”

He shot her a quick look she couldn't read. He put the spoon down and filled two mugs with cocoa.

“The boards on the widow's walk were rotted through,” he said quietly. “The railing wasn't even attached to the platform.”

“Do you think I would have gone out there if I'd known that?” Carolyn looked down as he put the mug in front of her. “I saw a
light
, Joss. At the bottom of the cliffs. It was
real
.”

He paused beside her chair. She glanced up at him, feeling somehow that she had to defend herself.

“It wasn't very clear at first, but then it grew stronger—or at least it
seemed
as if it was trying to grow stronger. It was moving along the rocks, but it was hard to see because of all the rain.”

He mumbled something she couldn't hear. He stared at the wall above her head.

“What did you say?” Carolyn asked.

“I said … ghost lights.”

Joss moved slowly to the window. Carolyn watched as he parted the curtains and stared out into the night.

“Help from the living,” he murmured. “Yes … of course …”

Carolyn was feeling sicker by the minute. “But ghost lights are just make-believe! Silly superstitions—”

“That depends,” Joss said, “on who sees them.”

“But I
did
see them! Whatever they were—they were
real!
”

Joss shook his head and let the curtains fall back into place.

“Well, of course you can't see them from here, if that's what you're looking for!” Carolyn's voice rose thinly, and she stood up from her chair. “You can't see them from here—you have to be up high! You're just trying to scare me! You're just trying to make me think I imagined everything!”