Waiting for the Storm Read online

  PRAISE FOR BLUE SKY DAYS

  “Blue Sky Days was brimming with emotion, and it never felt fake. I've rarely come across a novel that clicked with me so powerfully; in some ways, I felt almost overwhelmed from how much I cared about the characters, especially Emma and Nicholas…” ~ Once Upon a Prologue

  “From the very first page this book grabs you and draws you in, keeping you captivated with the characters as they go through the trials of love, life and self discovery.” ~ Bookaholics Book Club

  “Blue Sky Days is a wonderful, mesmerizing debut from Marie Landry. I’ve fallen completely for this story and the amazing characters and I really hope to be able to read more by this wonderful author in the not too distant future.” ~ Obsession With Books

  “I was in love with this story from the very first page. It pulled me in and made me a part of it and I knew it was going to be special!” ~ YA Book Addict

  PRAISE FOR THE GAME CHANGER

  “There are those books where there is something about them you can’t help but love. That is this book…The Game Changer is a book you won’t soon forget. Full of life and love and change and friendship. It’s one of those books that makes you rethink your own life and want to get out there and do something more.” ~ Thoughts at One in the Morning

  “I'm noticing, as I read Marie's books, that I find her female characters refreshingly relatable. They're the kind of people I wish were real, because I would love to have them as friends...If you are looking for a beautifully written, extremely compelling contemporary romance, The Game Changer comes highly recommended.” ~ I Write, I Read, I Review

  “The Game Changer is one of those rare books that I fell in love with on page one. I had to put it down a few times because I didn't want it to end. I want to read it again and again. The Game Changer is a must read!” ~ Book Briefs

  “There are so many sides to this story that make it more than “just” a romantic story about a woman and a man—it is in every sense of the word a love story in that it is about love between family, friends, and romantic partners…this book reminded me of a Canadian version of Sex & the City mixed with Gilmore Girls.” ~ Bookish Comforts

  WAITING FOR THE STORM

  By Marie Landry

  Copyright 2013 Marie Landry

  All rights reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an addition copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  DEDICATION

  To my mum, who taught me what it means to love and be loved. Thank you, Mum.

  CHAPTER ONE

  It didn’t seem right that the sun would shine on a day like today. The sky should be black, full of angry clouds heavy with the threat of rain. Wind should whip and howl through the trees, accompanied by thunder so loud it could drown out my thoughts.

  Instead, fluffy marshmallow clouds clung to a vivid, forget-me-not blue sky. Warm sunlight seeped into my shoulders. Birds chattered and sang happy, carefree songs while a fat-cheeked chipmunk zig-zagged up a nearby tree trunk. Everything and everyone carried on as if my whole world hadn’t just come to an abrupt halt.

  I shielded my eyes from the sun and took in the funeral home, a towering red brick Victorian mansion. A hearse sat near the back door; I looked away quickly, glancing instead at the upper floors where the funeral director and his wife lived. Maybe it was fairly common for people to live in old family-run funeral homes, but it gave me the heebies. I could barely stand to be inside the building for an hour.

  An image of my mother in her silk-lined casket entered my mind unbidden. I’d begged my dad to have a closed casket, but he had refused, saying that being able to see the body helped people gain closure. That might be true for some, but the sight of my once-beautiful mother who had been ravaged by her lengthy illness would haunt me for the rest of my life. Dad had given the mortician a picture of her to go by when making her up, but they’d gotten it all wrong; she never teased her hair up like that, and she always wore red lipstick, not pink.

  Not that it really mattered since she was almost unrecognizable anyway.

  I turned my back on the funeral home. I knew I had to go back in, had to pretend I wasn’t completely numb so I could shake hands, accept condolences, and thank people for coming. The only other funeral I’d ever been to was my grandmother’s, and Mom had been by my side the entire time, her arm firmly around my waist, comforting me and keeping me grounded. Now it was Mom lying in a casket, and even though Dad and my sister Ella were inside, it wasn’t the same.

  Looking out across the wide parking lot, I watched cars drive by on the street. The funeral home sat at the bottom of a hill, tucked back from the street and shaded by huge maple trees. We drove by here all the time; I often glanced in from the top of the hill and felt a pang of sympathy whenever I saw a crowd of black-clad people spilling from the front doors. Now I was one of those people.

  When we were younger, Ella and I thought that hill would make the perfect tobogganing run if it hadn’t been a street. It was exactly the right angle for shooting down on a sled at break-neck speed. We always said that someday when we were older we’d sneak out in the middle of the night with our toboggans and fly down that hill. It was one of those crazy, stupid things that sisters say to each other when they’re young and still the best of friends—one of the many things we shared, like clothes and toys, promises and secrets.

  But we never did it, and now we never would. Ella—or Gabriella, as she now preferred to be called—would rather sled headlong into traffic than spend five minutes alone with me.

  Voices drifted across the lot, and I turned to see a group of people standing by the front doors. I prayed the reception was winding down and we could get this whole day over with. I wondered if anyone inside had noticed I was missing. Probably not.

  I tugged at the collar of my black dress. My grandmother gave it to me several years ago; it was immediately banished to the back of my closet, forgotten until yesterday when I realized none of my clothes were appropriate for a funeral, and I didn’t have time to go shopping. It was high-necked and made of some nasty, itchy material that made me want to squirm like a little girl in her best Sunday dress.

  The sun beat down on me, and a trickle of sweat snaked its way down my spine, making me shiver despite the heat. With one final tug at the collar, I slowly trudged toward the funeral home, my low heels clacking quietly on the pavement. I braced myself as I approached the doors, wishing I could avoid looking at peoples’ faces and seeing their grief. The visitation, funeral, and reception had been a sea of down-turned mouths, pinched lips, and red eyes.

  I was usually an empathetic person, but today just dealing with my own grief was almost more than I could handle. Strangers and familiar faces alike came to me with soft, murmured words, telling me things I already knew and didn’t want to hear, like what an amazing woman my mother was or how much I looked like her or how wonderful it was that I’d been by her side for the last year while she was so sick. I knew they were trying to comfort me—and themselves—but for some reason, their words made me feel worse.

  Two of my old friends stepped outside, lowering sunglasses over their eyes. When they saw me, they raised their shades in unison; the sight would have been comical any other time. They shared a quick look before descending the stairs and joining me.

  “I want to ask how you’re doing, but I know that’s probably the stupidest question ever,” Bianca said, drawing me into a hug. He
r eyes were red, and she looked as if she were afraid a strong wind could knock me over and shatter me into a million pieces.

  “We just want you to know we’re here for you,” Alexis chimed in, rubbing my arm. “Whatever you need.”

  She was being completely sincere, but her words made me want to laugh bitterly. The three of us had once been best friends—inseparable since childhood, the three musketeers of Susannah Montgomery Elementary School, and then Centennial Secondary School. Alexis, Bianca, and Charlotte—ABC.

  But then Mom got sick at the beginning of senior year. I started going to school less and less before finally deciding to take courses at home so I could be with Mom as much as possible. We all knew it was only a matter of time before she died—the doctors had diagnosed her with an inoperable brain tumor, which was basically a death sentence. I expected my two best friends to be there for me, support me, and come around to visit since Mom had been like a second mother to both of them, but they had all but abandoned me.

  It was like out of sight, out of mind—I wasn’t around, so they forgot about me. I knew they hadn’t done it to be malicious, and I knew they were uncomfortable seeing Mom sick, but they were supposed to be my friends—my best friends. We’d always promised to be there for each other no matter what, but when I needed them most they were nowhere to be found.

  When I remained silent, staring at them as if they were strangers, they glanced at each other and shifted nervously.

  “We’re really sorry,” Bianca said in a rush, her green eyes filling with tears. “We feel horrible for…for…everything. We know we should have been there for you, and there’s no excuse, but we want to be here for you now. We hope you can start hanging out again and that things can go back to normal.”

  Back to normal. As if I’d been away at summer camp instead of standing vigil by my mother’s sickbed for the last year. “Back to normal,” I echoed slowly.

  Bianca blanched. The tears in her eyes spilled over her lids and rolled down her cheeks in big, fat drops. “Oh god.” She gnawed on her lip, her gaze darting away from mine. “That sounded so horrible. You have to know I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  I nodded slowly. “Of course.” I wasn’t trying to comfort her, but I did know what she meant. Part of me wanted to lash out—scream at them for not being there for me, make them feel even a fraction of the pain I was feeling. But I knew it would take too much effort. I was drained physically, mentally, and emotionally, and I was sure that calling them out would take what little energy I had left.

  “Well…” Alexis shifted uncomfortably. “I guess we’ll get going. Unless you want us to stay,” she added quickly.

  Did I want them to stay? There was a time I would have clung to them like a lifeline, but they were practically strangers now. I didn’t know these girls anymore—the girls who had once been closer to me than my own sister—and they certainly didn’t know me. Sometimes I wondered if I even knew who I was these days.

  “You guys go ahead. I need to get back inside.” I gestured vaguely toward the front door.

  “Okay. Well, you call us if you need anything, or you want to hang out,” Alexis said. “We’re planning a beach day for next week. I know it’s kinda soon, but if you want to come…”

  I shook my head, snapping out of my half-numb state. “We’re going away.”

  “Away?” Bianca asked, brows drawing together. She’d always had the most expressive face of anyone I ever knew. Alexis and I had been telling her since freshman year that she should be a model or an actress. Now high school was over and I didn’t even know what either of them was doing next year.

  “When Mom was in high school she spent summers on some island near Kingston,” I explained. “My grandparents had a cottage there, and it was my mom’s favourite place. She did some research, found out the place has been vacant for awhile, and she wanted to go there before she died, but…” I trailed off, not wanting to think of all the things Mom had wanted to do but didn’t get a chance to because she wasn’t strong enough or well enough. “She told my dad she wanted him to take us there this summer, so…we’re going.”

  “Wow,” Bianca said, eyes wide. “That’s…well, you know, it might be good to get away. I’m sure everything around here will remind you of your mom, you know? Not that you won’t think of her there, but it’ll be something new and different. Time and space might be good.”

  That’s what I kept telling Dad when he tried to back out of going. That, and a bit of a guilt trip when I mentioned how disappointed Mom would be if he didn’t take us.

  “When do you leave? Maybe we could hang out before you go?” Alexis asked hopefully.

  “We’re leaving in the next couple days,” I told them. And even if it weren’t so soon, what good would it do? Pretending like the last year didn’t happen, like they hadn’t deserted Mom and me when our lives were falling apart? I thought we would be friends forever, but now I couldn’t wait for them to leave so I didn’t have to pretend everything was okay.

  “Wow,” Bianca said again. “So soon. And in the fall…?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I missed the deadline for college applications, so I’ll probably have to get a job and apply for winter courses. I’m not really sure.”

  They nodded in unison. “Well…keep in touch, okay?” Bianca said, looking intensely uncomfortable now. “Maybe Lex and I can take a little road trip and come visit you.”

  Her hopeful tone made me soften slightly. “I’ll talk to you guys soon and we’ll plan something.” I wasn’t sure if I meant it. Judging by their expressions, I didn’t think they were too certain either, but they simply smiled, hugged me tightly, and headed for Bianca’s car.

  When a figure stepped out a side door of the funeral home, the girls detoured in that direction. I squinted against the sun to see who it was, and my stomach tensed when I realized it was my sister. Wearing a black dress just short enough to be completely inappropriate for a funeral—for our mother’s funeral—Ella waved to Bianca and Alexis as she peeled off the short-sleeved waist-length jacket Mom’s friend made her put on over the dress. Now baring her arms, shoulders, and an indecent amount of cleavage, she fanned herself with her hand and smiled as my former best friends approached her.

  Their voices floated across the parking lot, but I couldn’t make out their words. Something in me turned sour as I watched them. Ella was just a year younger than me, but until this year she had been pretty much a nobody at school. She and I had been close until I started high school, when Ella had suddenly become shy and preferred to spend time alone. I tried to introduce her to people, and I even invited her to hang out with me and my friends, but she always turned me down.

  When our mother took sick, I realized it wasn’t so much that Ella preferred to be alone, it was that she wanted to be the centre of attention. With me doing courses at home, Ella decided to fill my role, suddenly becoming friends with my friends, going to parties I’d once attended, taking trips to the mall and the beach, and doing all the other things I had done on a regular basis before Mom got sick.

  I hadn’t exactly been Miss Popular or anything, but I had a close-knit group of friends, and most of the small population of our school knew who we were. I was too busy to really worry about it, but I soon discovered Ella resented my popularity. She would make cracks about how it had been easy for me, and I’d never had to work for it. According to her, I was popular without even trying because I was pretty and smart and everyone loved me, but she had to work at it.

  I guess she worked hard enough, because it didn’t take her long to essentially replace me. The difference between us was that I had never been anyone but myself. Ella changed completely—the way she looked, the way she dressed, the way she acted and spoke were all different. She assumed a persona and became what she thought people wanted. She was Gabriella now—a name my mother hated, but had agreed to because it was the name of Dad’s beloved grandmother. We all called her Ella from the time she was born
, but this past year she started insisting we call her Gabriella because it sounded more sophisticated.

  A loud laugh brought me back to the present, and I narrowed my eyes toward the trio by the side door. Ella was standing in the shade of one of the maples with a lit cigarette dangling from her fingertips. She wasn’t carrying a purse, so I couldn’t imagine where she kept a pack of smokes and a lighter in that tiny dress.

  She was waving the cigarette around and talking animatedly. As if our mother hadn’t just died. As if she weren’t inside right now lying in a casket. As if we weren’t about to go to the cemetery and lower her into the ground for the rest of eternity.

  Ella looked in my direction and the smile faded slowly from her face. She said something to Bianca and Alexis, who glanced over at me. Even from this distance, I could see their faces turn red. They said a hurried goodbye to Ella, hugged her, and headed once again for Bianca’s car.

  My sister remained where she was, lounging against the tree as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She took one last long drag from her cigarette before flicking it onto the dry grass. With a look of challenge on her face, she gave me a sassy little finger wave and stepped through the side door.

  I waited a few seconds to make sure she didn’t come back out, then hurried across the lot and stomped on the cigarette, grinding it into the dirt until I was sure it was completely out. The authorities had been giving warnings on the news for the last two weeks about dry conditions, and how we needed to be extra careful with any sort of flame near grassy areas. Ella knew that as well as I did; she just didn’t care.

  I shook my head, feeling suddenly deflated and exhausted. My mother was dead. My sister hated me. My dad was basically falling apart. My friends…well, I didn’t have any friends, not really, not anymore. Summer had always been my favourite time of year, but this year I was dreading it with every fibre of my being.