Sanctuary(39)

"Seat belt," Jo ordered, and Lexy let out an exasperated huff of breath as she strapped in. "Listen, why don't we just get drunk and pretend we can tolerate each other for one night? An actress of your astonishing range shouldn't have any trouble with that."

Lexy cocked her head, aimed a brilliant smile. "Fuck you, sister dear."

"There you go." Jo started the engine, reaching for a cigarette out of habit the minute it turned over.

"Would you not smoke in the car?"

Jo punched in the lighter. "My car."

she headed north, her tires singing musically on the shell road. The air rushing in the windows was a beautiful balm. she used it to soothe her raw nerves and made no complaint when Lexy turned the stereo up full blast. Loud music meant no conversation, and no conversation meant no arguments. At least for the drive to camp.

she drove fast, the memory of every curve in the road coming back to her. That too, soothed. So little had changed. Dark still fell quickly here, and the night brought the sounds of wind and sea that made the island seem a huge place to her. A world where the tides ruled dependably.

she remembered driving fast along this road with the wind rushing through her hair and the radio screaming. Lexy had been beside her then too.

The spring before Jo had left the island, a soft, fragrant spring. she would have been eighteen then, she remembered, and Lexy just fifteen. They'd been giggling, and there'd been the best part of a quart of Ernest and Julio between them to help the mood along. Cousin Kate had been visiting her sister in Atlanta, so there'd been no one to wonder where two teenage girls had gone off to.

There had been freedom and foolishness, and a connection, Jo thought, that they'd lost somewhere along the way. The island remained as it was, always. But those two young girls were gone.

"How's Giff.)" Jo heard herself ask.

"How should I know?"

Jo shrugged. Even all those years back, Gaff had had his eye on Lexy. And even all those years back, Lexy had known it. Jo simply wondered if that had stayed constant. "I haven't seen him since I've been back. I heard he was doing carpentry and whatnot."

"He's a jerk. I don't pay any attention to what he's doing." Lexy scowled out the window as she remembered the way he'd kissed her brainless. "I'm not interested in island boys. I like men." she turned back, shot a challenging look. "Men with style and money."

"Know any?"

"Quite a few, actually." Lexy hooked an arm out the window, easing into a pose of casual sophistication. "New York's bursting with them. I like a man who knows his way around. Our Yankee, for example."

Jo felt her spine stiffen, deliberately relaxed it. "Our Yankee?"

"Nathan Delaney. He has the look of a man who knows his way around ... women. I'd say he's exactly my type. Rich."

"Why do you think he's rich?"

"He can afford a six-month vacation. An architect with his own company has to have financial substance. He's traveled. Men who've traveled know how to show a woman interesting pieces of the world. He's divorced. Divorced men appreciate an amiable woman."

"Done your research, haven't you, Lex."

"Sure." she stretched luxuriously. "Yes, indeedy, I'd say Nathan Delaney is just my type. He should keep me from being bored brainless for the next little while."

"Until you can get back to New York," Jo put in. "Shift hunting grounds."

"Exactly."

"Interesting." Jo's headlights splashed the discreet sign for Heron Campground. she cut her speed and took the turn off Shell Road into a land of sloughs and marsh grass. "I always figured you thought more of yourself than that."

"You have no idea what I think about anything, including myself."

"Apparently not."

They fell into a humming silence disturbed only by the shrill peeping of frogs. At a sharp cracking sound, Jo shuddered involuntarily. It was the unmistakable sound of a gator crunching a turtle between its jaws. she thought she understood exactly what that turtle felt in those last seconds of life. The sensation of being helplessly trapped by something large and feral and hungry.

Because her fingers trembled, she gripped the wheel tighter. she hadn't been consumed, she reminded herself. she'd escaped, she'd bought some time. she was still in control.

But the anxiety attack was pinching away at her with insistent little fingers. she made herself breathe in, breathe out, slow, normal. God, just be normal. she turned the radio off.

she passed the little check-in booth, empty now as the sun had set, and concentrated on winding her way through the chain of small lakes. Lights flickered here and there from campfires. Ghost music floated out of radios, then vanished. Where the hillocks of grass parted, she could see the delicate white glow of lily pads in the moonlight.