Chapter 10

I step outside,thinking I'll head to the Sea House to ride out the approaching storm. Across from the General Store, Liam rolls up on his all-terrain bike. A beautiful Asian girl straddles the back, her arms around his waist, her jet strands mingling with Liam's dark brown ones in the rising wind. Definitely not the girl from the other night. My stomach lurches. So much for the O'Donnells not having any friends.

Backed up against the store window, I turn and spot Brody peering out at me. No way I want to be stuck in there with him. But Liam is a whole other story. He's definitely shady, but I feel a strange connection to him…one I haven't felt since Tyler kissed me on The Big Easy.

Dad insisted this island is magic. Does that mean its residents are, too?

It's absolute bunk. But how else to explain the almost visceral pull I feel toward Liam?

The moment I have that thought, I want to kick myself. Liam's hot as hell, but I'm not in the market for a summer romp. Besides, Liam O'Donnell is clearly a broken-heart machine in search of fuel. A new wound to my soul is the last thing I need.

As if he can hear what I'm thinking, Liam turns and sees me. The girl giggles in his ear, but he ignores her, his attention fixed on me. Oh great.

I freeze, deer-in-the-headlights style. Running away is tempting, but Mom's annoying voice in my head reminds me that a serious researcher can't have people messing with their field notes. I brace for our clash in the name of science as a blast of wind howls across the dock. The ocean seethes, an angry expanse of sharp gray teeth.

Terror tightens my chest. The scene fades and I'm back on the boat with Tyler, blurred details sharpening to vivid intensity. Heat and longing blaze in his eyes as he leans in to kiss me before the fierce storm rips us apart.

I'm jolted back to the present, the island wind screaming at gale strength. Branches and bits of debris shoot through the electric air. The sky crackles with menace.

A monster storm is about to hit.

Liam and the girl pull apart. She rushes in the direction of the Sea House, but instead of following her, Liam secures his bike and heads straight for me.

"You need to get out of here. Now," he says. "This one's going to be a doozy."

"What about your friend?" I call above the din. The sky, once a yellowish gray, is now fringed with black clouds rimmed with pale blue.

A violent gust whips dried leaves and papers into a whirlwind, stealing Liam's response. Lightning slashes the sky. The rain comes, slamming the boardwalk in a single sheet of water.

"Run!" Liam shouts. We scramble over the wood railing of the boardwalk to higher ground moments before water sweeps the dock. On the horizon, a waterspout—a replica of the one from the night Tyler died—rises to meet the clouds.

I'm rooted in place, horror-struck. Liam grabs me by the wrist and drags me out of the way as lightning blasts the muddy ground around us in bone-rattling blasts. We slosh toward the Sea House, ankle-deep in rushing water, but a barrier of broken trees and debris blocks our path.

Lightning explodes a nearby tree, splitting it apart like a peeled banana. I scream, nearly blind with panic. The waterspout makes landfall, buzz-sawing its way across the island in a cloud of dirt and splinters. We slip and slide over rocks, but there's no place to hide as the storm bears down on us.

I shout and push Liam out of the way as a heavy tree limb hurtles past, narrowly missing his head. Have I survived one storm, only to come here and watch a different boy die? We slip and tumble into the heaving river of dirt and debris that washes out the dunes. I splutter, spitting sand from my mouth.

Liam curses as the mud and liquefied sand flows around us, his wet hair slicked to his head. He plunges a hand into the sloshing torrent and pulls up a green shoot that rises from the ground like a cobra. It broadens into a thick stem with waxen leaves the size of helicopter blades.

Numbly, I watch as the giant leaves wrap around us to form a watertight raft.

No. This can't be happening. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I'm knocked out and dreaming this up.

I rub the sand and dirt from my eyes, no longer sure if what I'm seeing is real as we drift on the current, pressed together within our capsule, facing each other. Outside, the wind's fury is muffled to a distant howl.

"Don't say anything," Liam whispers, his face so near I can count the water droplets that bead on his dark lashes. Cocooned together in this botanical bubble of protection, there's no pulling away. Terror spins me into a dark void and it's me and Tyler again, clinging to each other in the boat. I close my eyes, fist my fingers in Liam's shirt, and breathe in the scent of sea.

The world goes silent around me. Our shelter has vanished, the sun beating down on us from a cobalt clear sky. We've come to rest in a gulley gouged into the dunes. The waterspout has moved on, its thin scar of destruction carved across the island.

I'm too stunned to speak. How do you politely ask someone if they just performed a feat of magic? Instead, I focus on the violent storm, counterevidence to my father's weird assertion that this island is suffering no ill effects from climate instability.

We scramble to our feet, legs and arms caked in wet sand. I peer into my bag. Not only is it and everything in it waterlogged, including the Field Guide, but my notebook is a total loss.

I clamber after Liam up onto a rocky outcropping, my leg only slowing me down a bit. We have a good view of the swath the tornado took across the island. The rain has stopped, the sky now a crystalline blue. I survey the scene in wonder. Shaving a zigzaggy line through the terrain, the funnel somehow clipped only a few buildings.

"Amazing there wasn't more damage," Liam says, blandly.

Did he really summon some kind of botanical submersible from the sand? Or, like the dancing plants on the ridge, did I imagine this, too? I don't know what's more disturbing—the idea that Salttain defies the laws of nature, or the very real possibility that I'm losing my mind. "Are storms like this common around here?"

"Yep." Liam shades his eyes, his reply as expansive as ever.

Curiouser and curiouser. Other questions bubble on my tongue, but I'm sure the Island Sphinx, sun glinting in his pearly gray eyes, will dodge my every attempt to get answers. I search for an angle, a way to get him to talk. Then, I just can't help myself. "Why did you steal my notes?"

Liam snaps around to face me. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on," I say. "You returned my bag with my notebook. But all my field observations were gone. You also had the absolute nerve to delete my photos."

"Your field observations," Liam repeats with a crooked smile that knocks me further off balance.

"I-I told you I'm a scientist, I'm studying the environmental impact of climate change on the natural ecosystem here?—"

Liam cuts me off, the smile lingering. "Does this place strike you as natural?"

I glance at the destruction of the waterspout and the almost artistic line it carved. My fingers quiver with a buzz that isn't entirely attributable to his presence, the same one I've felt since I arrived on Salttain. But I'm determined to stand my ground. I follow science, not superstition and oddball beliefs.

"The laws of nature dictate all matters," I say, lifting my chin.

Liam stares back at me, then barks out a laugh. "Believe what you want. But you should be more careful. The dangers here are very real."

"Point taken," I huff as Liam turns away from me to survey the scene below. My fingers tingle to the point of burning. It's hard to tell if it's unpleasant—or if I like it. "I never did get the chance to thank you about my leg. I owe you for saving my life twice. But I still want the truth."

"The truth about what?"

"About the garden. And why you tore out all my notes. I know you did it."

"What garden?" he says, spinning around to finally look at me. "You mean the other night when I found you limping around?"

"Yes. That night."

Liam shrugs. "You were lost. You fell. Nothing more to it."

I'm about to push back, to bring up the leafy raft, but I'm tired of getting the runaround. This damn island has me questioning reality. Maybe that's its allure to its visitors—come frolic in our magical playland and leave your sanity behind.

Is it possible there's a plant growing here that emits mind-altering drug fumes? Maybe that's something I can ask my Reddit buddies without them thinking I've completely lost my cookies.

Below us, people swarm the damaged dock. I scan the crowd for Dad, but there's no sign of him. He was doing errands when the storm hit. What if he was hurt, or worse, washed away?

"I've got to get down there to help," Liam says. "You coming?"

Hoping to find my dad in the crowd, I pick my way after him across the soaked and battered ground to where at least fifty people with hammers, nails, and saws have shown up. Wade strides toward us carrying a few two-by-fours. He's followed by a muscular, rugged man I recognize instantly.

"Da, this is Rosalie Gatell," Wade says.

"We've already met." Randy Lambert, Tyler's uncle, smiles broadly. "A pleasure to make your formal acquaintance. I'm so glad you made it to our little parcel of heaven. Though, sometimes it can seem more like hell."

Randy's tan cheeks are dimpled, eyes as bright as the blue-green of the Pacific. Despite the fact that both his sons irk me, a wash of calm reassurance sweeps through me, the sensation in my fingertips ebbing to a gentle buzz. I return the smile, puzzled. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Lambert. By any chance, have you seen my father?"

"It's Randy, sweetheart. And no. Your da's used to Salttain's sporadic tantrums, though.

Damn shame our little slice of paradise doesn't have better manners when it comes to weather." He turns to his son. "Wade, Liam, why don't you see if you can find Rosalie's da? And then go measure and saw up these boards. We'll want this repair work finished before nightfall."

Liam nods to me and tears off, joining Wade and Brody, as a thickset man with a ruddy face, his pouchy body bulging out of his Coast Guard uniform, saunters over. Randy claps the man on the back. "Sergeant Sampling! Good to see you! As you can see, we need all the help we can get."

"We came as soon as we could, sir. Lucky thing Salttain got off so easy. Extensive damage on Tripson and Bletchforth Islands. Homes damaged."

Randy nods, pensive. "That's a shame, Sampling. Let me know if I can offer a hand elsewhere on the archipelago."

"Yes, sir." Sampling snaps a salute as if Randy is his superior. He's not alone: one by one, people come by to confer with Randy, then set off to their tasks. In minutes, the mangled dock is a hive of activity. From the way people defer to him, it seems like Randy Lambert is the head honcho here.

I survey the storm-battered dunes, wondering how these people can be in such a state of climate denial, as Randy surveys the progress of the dock repairs like a pharaoh overseeing his empire. Feeling like a third thumb, I decide it's better to spit it out while we're alone. "You know my dad well?"

Randy's smile is unwavering and warm. "Well enough, sweetheart. Your da is a good man, if a bit of a recluse. We often have to drag him to parties."

The post-storm air is sweet and fresh. I poke through the gauze of my weird contentment and force myself to dig out the splinter of thought at its center. "I-I was wondering if Tyler, uh, knew my dad was here. If that was why he wanted me to come."

Randy is silent for a beat, then leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Please forgive me for my insensitivity. I should have realized how hard this all must be on you. The boy wanted you with him when he returned home. After his death, his foster parents asked me to reach out to you. Don't spin your tires over it. Enjoy your stay and let it go."

"I thought he had family here. Like his Aunt Millie. How come no one wants to introduce me to her?"

"It's just us Lamberts," Randy says. "We're all that's left. Technically, we're not kin, but we're the only ones who looked in on the boy once he left. Millicent is long gone."

My brow furrows. Either she's alive and he's lying or my parcel is a hoax. On this island, my questions are soft darts that never stick to anything.

"Terrible shame about poor Tyler, though," Randy adds. "Brilliant kid. Did my best for him. Too bad circumstances prevented us from taking him in here sooner."

"Circumstances?"

"Things are complicated on Salttain, sweetheart. Trust me. If I could've raised the boy here, I would have. He took real good care of my boat, though. Not sure what could have sunk it."

"It was a freak storm. A lot like the one that hit here."

"Truly a shame," Randy says, his attention returned to the work on the dock. "Least on Salttain and the rest of the archipelago, we help each other through difficult times."

My stomach churns. The fuzz of contentment dissipates. My thoughts sharpen. "Did you realize all these years I thought my dad was dead?"

Randy Lambert doesn't flinch, nor does the twinkle leave those sea-glass eyes. "I wasn't privy to the full situation at the time and only did what a good friend would do to help another. Later on, I realized how much your da missed you. But, like many who eventually find their way here, I figured it was only a matter of time until you'd do the same. It's a tragedy you couldn't experience this place with Tyler, like he wanted." He stares at me for a longer beat, the smile never leaving his lips. I ponder his words: like many who eventually find their way here. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Least that poor boy is at peace," Randy adds. "Now, I best get down there and inspect the work those lazy fools are up to. I'll let you know when we find your da."

No sooner does he depart than a grim-faced girl around my age stalks over, announcing that Dad's been found and he's fine. The girl, whose black hair is pulled into a severe top bun, is the spitting image of Liam. This is the girl who called to him on the beach the other night, the one on the bike.

"You're Liam's sister."

"Unfortunately, yes," the girl says without a smile. Even though she hasn't so much as touched me, it's as if I can feel her physically pushing me away. "His twin, actually."

I extend my hand, but she doesn't reach for it. "I'm Rosalie. Why unfortunately?"

"Aurora. And it's my responsibility to protect him from the snooping Landsiders he always manages to attract," she says, eyes narrowed and hands on hips. "Like you."

With that, Aurora O'Donnell stalks off. With no choice but to follow, I trot after her. Wade's right about one thing: she definitely doesn't want me anywhere near her brother.

My father said being Randy's guest made people tolerate him. Randy invited me, too. So why do I get the feeling that Aurora and Liam would like nothing more than to evict me from this island?

I fume as she leads me past the high hedge onto the Sea House grounds, where a portion of the roof's been sheared off. Workers are everywhere, cleaning debris from the yard and replacing missing shingles.

I find Dad sitting in the shade of a white pavilion with a few resort guests who've suffered minor injuries. He's got a small bandage on his head, but otherwise looks none the worse for wear.

The possibility of losing him again makes my stomach twist, and I draw him into a hug. My father may not be the man he once was, but he's still my dad. "My God! I was so worried about you, Rosie," Dad says when I let him go. "I had someone check the house and they said you weren't there. I was so afraid something happened to you."

"I'm okay, Dad. I was worried about you, too. But what happened to you?"

"Just a bump." He gestures to the bandage on his temple. "I was hoping for a relaxing summer together. But so far, this has been anything but."

No kidding. "Does this kind of freak weather thing happen a lot?"

"On occasion," he says softly.

How can he be so blind after all those years of focus and dedication? Bitterness creeps into my voice. "But there's no climate problem here, right?"

He doesn't answer me.