Siren's Storm

“Ah,” she said as she pulled a long whiff of the coffee. “It never tastes this good when I make it.” She sat down heavily in the wooden chair. The caning sighed under her weight. Will’s mother still had the high cheekbones and fine features that had made her a famous local beauty in her youth. But she had turned matronly, especially in the past year. She no longer bothered to highlight her hair, which was now cut short in a utilitarian style. And she wore mostly shorts and baggy shirts in neutral colors. It was as if she were trying to turn herself invisible.

Gretchen wiggled her eyebrows at Will, who was silently chewing the last of his bacon.

“What did you do to your face?” Mrs. Archer asked.

“My face?” Gretchen’s fingers flew to her cheeks.

“She means your nose ring,” Will translated.

“You haven’t seen this yet?” Gretchen tossed her long blond hair and angled her face so that Will’s mother could get a better view of the tiny sapphire that glittered at the impression on her right nostril. “I got it while we were in India in January. It’s very traditional there.” Gretchen grinned playfully and poked Mrs. Archer in the arm. “You should get one, Evelyn. Or maybe an eyebrow ring-they’re very in right now.”

Mrs. Archer snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes.

“You’d be the talk of the town,” Gretchen teased.

“I’m already the talk of the town,” Mrs. Archer snapped, and took another long slug of her coffee.

An awkward silence pulsed through the room.

“Well,” Will said as he wiped up the last of the egg with a crust of toast, “this has been great, but I think I should-”

“Will’s heading into town with me,” Gretchen announced as she slapped the back of his chair with a kitchen towel. “I need to pick up a few things. Okay, Evelyn?”

Will’s mother just shrugged a reply. “Ask your father why we never see him anymore.”

“He sends his regards,” Gretchen called. She was already pulling Will out the door.

“You drove here?” Will asked when he saw her car in the driveway.

“I knew we were going out, and I’m not riding on the back of your bike, thanks.”

“You knew we were going out?”

“I want ice cream, and you’re coming with me.”

“Why didn’t you just eat breakfast?”

“I did eat breakfast. At eight, like a normal person. Now it’s time for ice cream.” Gretchen yanked him toward the battered orange Gremlin she bombed around in. The thing looked like an antique, and handled like one. She referred to it as her “pothole detector,” since it always managed to find every single one on the road.

“You’re lucky my mother likes you,” Will said dryly as Gretchen sent gravel flying.

“I’m the kooky daughter she never wanted,” Gretchen said.

Will laughed. “Yeah, and I’m the non-kooky son she never liked.”

Gretchen winced. “That’s not true.”

Will shrugged. He looked out the window. “So I can be kooky sometimes.”

Gretchen punched him playfully. “Shut up.” She drove slowly, picking her way around fallen branches. “Dad says Route 27 is clear.”

“Won’t have a problem merging onto it today.”

“Let’s hope.” Gretchen turned at the fork, and suddenly the main road came into view. The two-lane highway was usually clogged to a crawl with summer people, but not this morning. I guess everyone’s busy yelling at their gardeners to get the fallen branches out of the hedges, Will thought as Gretchen turned onto the road. In a moment they were flying. Gretchen’s car didn’t have air-conditioning, not that you ever really needed it in Walfang. The ocean air was always cool, and it smelled sweet-like cut grass. The summer people had planted immaculate gardens between the acres still used by horse breeders and potato farmers.

“When did you get back?” Will asked.

“Thursday.”

“Today is Thursday.”

“Last Thursday.”

Will turned his face away from hers. He stared out the window in silence. He wasn’t surprised, of course. He’d noticed the lights were on at night. He’d seen Johnny’s car in the driveway.

Last year Gretchen hadn’t even stopped at her own house before coming over to the Archers’. Johnny’s vintage silver Mercedes pulled into the Archer driveway and Gretchen spilled out, shouting and whooping at the top of her lungs. Tim was working at the stand, and Gretchen tackled him first, wrapping him in a huge hug. Then she’d found Will in the tomato house and insisted that they go to the beach-even though she never swam in the ocean, Gretchen loved the sand-at four o’clock sharp. So they had. But that had been last year.

Gretchen pulled off the highway onto a shady lane lined with houses that were large, but tastefully so.

“So, after ten months, you just decided to come over and make me some breakfast?”

Gretchen was silent. Will looked out the window, letting the breeze blow through his hair. His father liked to tease him. “Get a haircut,” he’d say. But Will liked the long hair. He let it hang, curtain-like, over his scar.

Tim had always buzzed his hair off at the beginning of the summer. By summer’s end, he’d looked scruffy again. Will had preferred the scruffy version of his brother-half-grown beard, shorts two sizes too big. With his chiseled jaw and long, aquiline nose, Tim’s good looks could be intimidating. At the beginning of the summer, Tim always looked like someone who could pull you over and give you a speeding ticket or slap cuffs on you. By the end of the summer, with his hair grown out again, he looked like a vacationing movie star.

Will glanced over at Gretchen. One hand was on the steering wheel, the other hanging out the window. Her posture was carefree, but her face was serious-lost in thought. Will noticed how pale she was. She had dark circles under her eyes.

“How are you sleeping?” Will asked.

“Eh-I got out last night.”

“That could be dangerous, you know,” Will told her.

She sighed, and the sparkle in her voice seemed to drain away. “I know.”

Will wondered how she had the energy to even pretend to be happy. He certainly didn’t. It was all he could do to get out of bed, work at the stand, and exchange a few words with other human beings. Even brushing his teeth felt like a superhuman effort.

As they turned into the center of town, Will became aware that he was scanning the sidewalks for signs of the girl he’d seen yesterday. But the streets were mostly empty. He fought the urge to ask Gretchen if she’d ever seen anyone matching the girl’s description. He didn’t feel like explaining what had happened the day before. Let it go, he told himself.

Finally they pulled up in front of Sixteen Flavors. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you hum before,” Will said as the car rattled to a stop.

Gretchen paused, her hand partway to the door handle. “I was humming?”

“Yeah.”

She cocked her head. “How did it go?”

Will gave her a look. “You know that line of questioning will get you nowhere,” he said. Will was completely tone-deaf.

The bell over the door jingled as Will and Gretchen stepped into the cool air of the ice cream shop. Sixteen Flavors served lunch, too, and the place was already filling up with locals and summer people looking for a bite in one of the few places in town that were open. Will said a little prayer of thanks that the girl smiling at them behind the counter was Rachel Finnegan. She was sweet and didn’t talk much. She was also just a freshman, which meant she wasn’t likely to dare to chat with them.

“Two scoops of peppermint stick on a sugar cone,” Will said as he perched on the red stool.

“And can I get you anything?” Rachel asked Gretchen.

“No, that’s for her,” Will explained. “She always gets the same thing. I’ll have a Coke.”

Rachel turned to Gretchen with lifted eyebrows, and Gretchen nodded. Then Rachel looked at Will again, and her cheeks blushed pink. She looked down at the counter when she handed Will his Coke.

“Thanks, Rachel,” he said, and she flushed even harder before she scurried to scoop out the ice cream.

Rachel handed Gretchen the ice cream cone, and Will waved off Gretchen’s attempt to pay. “You buy the next