Read Online Osprey Island by Thisbe Nissen - Free Book Online

shielded—“Please . . .”—but the slam of the screen door cut her short, his feet heavy on the porch steps as if damning each one as he went. Then she was alone under the glare of the kitchen light. All she could think was that she would stay there with her head down until it burned out on its own.
    JEREMY AND PEG HAD RETURNED from their walk on the beach and were wending their way slowly back toward the staff barracks. They climbed the stone steps on the path between the laundry shack and the Squires’ cabin and had stopped to kiss awhile on the cobbled path when, from inside the Squires’ cabin, they heard the shouting. Peg broke away first, startled. Jeremy turned his head toward the cabin and in the same motion pulled Peg to him—away from the noise of a husband and wife, a mother and a father, yelling
fuck you
for everyone to hear—as though spending the better part of the evening with their tongues in each other’s mouths had served to designate him as her protector. Peg strained against his grip and craned toward the cabin, then ducked back when, a minute later, the front door flew open and Lance charged out, swearing to himself. Peg hid there under Jeremy’s wing and stayed very quiet until Lance had passed, tearing off toward the Lodge. Peg and Jeremy stood, stunned. Then Peg looked up to Jeremy, his face a good foot above her own.
    “Where was the boy?” she asked, breathless and rushed.
    Jeremy seized the imperative. “Under the deck, playing Ping-Pong before . . .” And without another word the two took off toward the Lodge to find Squee, his self-appointed guardians, teenage social workers certain they had only the best intentions: to look after the child.
    Peg and Jeremy rushed out the sliding door and onto the porch, hand in hand, stopping just beyond the threshold, the sea breeze blowing in their faces as they scanned the crowd like young cops closing in on their man. Squee was scrunched into a wicker lounger with Mia, playing cat’s cradle with a piece of old string. Peg and Jeremy came at them. Jeremy stopped and suddenly checked his watch. It was just past ten.
    “You two want to go into town and get some ice cream?” he said brightly, a camp counselor at heart.
    The children struggled excitedly out of their chair.
    “Go on and ask your mum,” Peg said to Mia, who dashed upstairs.
    When she returned, nodding vehemently, she took Peg’s hand, and the group made their way down the steps to the parking lot and Jeremy’s car. The porch sitters heard the grumpy car engine turn over, die again, then turn over at last. When the car rolled around the bend in Sand Beach Road, conversation on the porch resumed as though nothing had happened. A few people made excuses and started up the hill toward the barracks. Brigid and Gavin sat and had another glass of whiskey. The last of the drinking boys headed off to bed. Brigid and Gavin smoked a cigarette. The night was warm, the air saturated with mist.
    “What’s between our respective roommates, do you think?” Brigid asked.
    Gavin gestured toward the stairs down which they’d disappeared with the kids. “What you see, I guess.” He shrugged and took a long, pensive drag on his cigarette, as if to imply that he had other things on his mind.
    “You don’t get on, then?” Brigid asked.
    Gavin shrugged again. “Don’t think we’ll be best friends.”
    Brigid laughed, too eagerly.
    “I think I’m going to head up.” He motioned to the hill. “You going to hang here?”
    Brigid yawned conveniently. “Nah, I’m knackered.”
    He gave a laugh, then pushed back his chair, gestured—
after you.
    She let herself lead.
    They walked single file up the trail, not quickly, but with purpose. Brigid let her heart beat faster. The back door was propped open with a cinderblock, and Brigid pivoted on the stoop of the barrack so that she stood facing him in the threshold. The look on his face conveyed an acknowledgment of the inevitable. He took