What the Waves Know: A Novel by Tamara Valentine

Author:Tamara Valentine
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

When I woke curled up on the couch the following morning, autumn had pounced on Tillings Island with both feet. Sometime in the night, my mother had come to cover me with a quilt and Luke had squirreled his way underneath, sticking a wet nose under my chin while he slept.

“Are you feeling well enough to go with Remy today?” My mother shuffled into the living room carting a clean load of laundry. The nod escaped before I thought better of it, remembering I was due at Herman’s in half an hour.

“All right, then you’d better get yourself up and dressed before she comes blaring that godforsaken horn.”

Untangling myself, I tossed the quilt aside, sending Luke flopping over with a sleepy snort, and went upstairs to throw on a clean shirt. I left on the old pair of jeans I’d slept in, since I was going to be painting anyway. A strapping frost the night before had left the leaves outside the window dipped in shades of molasses and cranberry red. Just looking at them made me hungry for a tall stack of Grandma Jo’s flapjacks and homemade maple syrup, which I could smell cooking downstairs. Pulling on one of my father’s old sweatshirts with a shiver and letting it hang clear down to my knees, I stuck my hair up in a curly mop and darted downstairs.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” Grandma Jo set a second pancake on my plate and patted my shoulder.

After wolfing it down, I tossed my plate in the sink and headed for the front door.

“Freeze.” My mother came through the kitchen door clutching a mug of coffee. “Where in the world do you think you’re going? Remy’ll be here any minute to get you.”

Tell her to wait, I scribbled on a brown paper bag from Salva’s that was sitting on the table. I’ll be right back. I’d just made it to the door when I remembered the strange way Remy had acted the day before and turned around, picking up the pencil again. Do you know Mrs. O’Malley?

“She used to drop preserves and biscuits by whenever we came,” my mother answered after a calculated pause. “That sort of thing.”

Why hasn’t she? The lead on the pencil had worn below the crest of the wood and I was forced to scratch the last word into the smooth side of the bag. My mother leaned over, trying to decipher it, sloshing coffee on her chest as she did. For the craziest of seconds, it looked as though she’d done so on purpose. She leapt back belatedly.

“Shit!” she cussed, swiping at the stain with the bandage on her thumb. “That’s hot. Do me a favor and leave the door unlocked in case Remy comes while I change. Okay?”

I’ll be right back, I promised.

“You’d better be!” she called, bustling out of the room while holding her shirt away from her skin in a small stained tent. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to her go on while you lollygag about.

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