Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Kesha
I could feel Korrad’s panic, and I wasn’t sure how or why. For some reason, I wasn’t panicking; instead, I felt a sense of calm certainty. Sure, this was the first time Milo had been in any real danger, but I knew Jay was with him.
And I knew I’d find them.
In fact…
Korrad and I didn’t climb into his truck.
Instead, after hurriedly throwing on jeans and boots, we jogged down the game trail the boys usually followed through the woods behind us.
Korrad repeatedly called their names, sometimes crashing into the underbrush as he followed a scent trail I couldn’t detect.
But I just kept heading northward. Towards the cliffs.
Soon, in the distance, I heard someone calling Milo’s name, and then Korrad sped up to pass me. “That’s Brak. I’ll find out where he’s checked,” he called, and disappeared ahead of me.
I went to follow him but came to a fork in the trail. To my surprise, my legs turned down the left path…opposite the route Korrad took.
I didn’t understand why, but I knew my sons were in this direction.
Trusting my instincts and Korrad to find us, I kept going, alternating between jogging and—when my body couldn’t handle the jostling any longer—hobbling onward. Man, for someone who’d been regularly rollerblading, I was still really out of shape, huh?
To my surprise, I burst out of the woods at a location I recognized: the edge of the clearing for the Eastshore Isle Lighthouse. Jocelyn had given us a tour a month ago, and I had a vague understanding of its proximity to us, but I hadn’t understood that we could walk here.
The boys are here.
In a sort of daze, I headed toward the tall tower.
Korrad had kept us apprised on how the plans were going to do the actual moving of the structure, and from the equipment gathered around, I could tell it was nearly the deadline.
If the boys’ secret fort was here, perhaps they’d been avoiding it during the last week because of all the commotion here?
If so, they’d likely see a Sunday afternoon as a prime time to visit again, since the construction work would have halted.
The door was unlocked.
I wasn’t sure if it should be locked, but I pressed my palm to the wood, about to push it open, when I heard my name being called.
When I turned over my shoulder, I saw Korrad hurtling toward me. From a different direction, Brak and another male I didn’t recognize were jogging toward us.
“They’re here?” Korrad asked, skidding to a stop beside me, tipping his head back to peer up at the lighthouse tower. “I can smell them, but how did…?”
“How does she know?” Brakkor barked, shaking his head as he arrived.
The other male, who had a horrible scar up one side of his face and tattoos over both forearms, grunted only, “Mothers are powerful.”
Korrad shouldered them both out of the way in order to take my hand. “Dkaar, you can feel them, can’t you?”
I met his eyes—still glowing that eerie green—and nodded. “They’re up there. Come on.”
“Lead the way,” he said softly, squeezing my hand.
So I did; that tug pulled me right up the main stairs of the tower, spiraling around the outside wall, to the little room at the top where the lighthouse keeper—one of Mr. Frapp’s ancestors—would have been tending the light.
But as I stalked around the small central space, I knew something was wrong.
“They’re not here.”
I didn’t give Korrad a chance to reply, but glanced at the door, where both Brakkor and the other male were waiting—There!
An innocuous little access panel—maybe two feet wide—beckoned me. I rushed over and placed my fingertips against it, then glanced at the two males.
The scarred one nodded. “The kitlings’ scents are all over it.”
“Milo?” I called. “Jay, honey?”
No answer, and I twisted to send Korrad a worried look. He stepped up behind me. “Milo, I know you’re in there.”
I thought perhaps we were all holding our breath, to enable us to hear the tiny, scared little voice finally whisper, “Dad? I’m—we’re stuck.”
I was already pushing the panel out of the way, relief warring with terror in my chest, when Korrad’s hand closed around my wrist. I whirled to glare at him.
“I’m going in there. All of you are too big to fit—I’m amazed Jay fit!—and you can’t pull down the lighthouse, not when I can—”
He grinned and squeezed my wrist before dropping it. “I trust you, dkaar. I just wanted to help you lift the panel out of the way.”
Oh.
I backed away, mollified, especially after realizing how heavy the wood was.
Jay must’ve been the one to lift it in and out each day, because Milo surely couldn’t have managed.
Once the panel was off, a little crawlspace was revealed.
Glad I was wearing my jeans, I hoisted myself in and was glad for the little lift Korrad provided.
“Be safe, love,” he murmured, low enough I wondered if I was the only one to hear him.
I was already crawling forward. “Milo, honey? Where are you?”
This was a little space around the outside of the tower, the forgotten space between the interior and exterior walls.
I was surprised how well I could see, thanks to the sunlight coming in through the cracks in the wood, which illuminated the improvements the boys had been doing to their “fort” all summer.
The space was smaller than I’d expected, but the boys had clearly put a lot of effort into making it their own.
The first section of the floor was lined with fabric—one of Korrad’s old flannel shirts, I recognized, spread out to cushion the rough wood—and a few mismatched pillows were stacked in one corner.
A pile of comic books, two half-empty bags of chips, and a water bottle suggested they’d been planning to stay awhile.
I crawled faster, my knees protesting the hard floor, my palms scraping against the rough wood. The scent of dust and old paint mixed with something sharper—fear. Milo’s fear.
“Mom?” His voice was small, trembling, and my heart clenched.
“I’m coming, honey. Just hold on.” I kept my voice steady, even as my pulse hammered in my throat. The sound of his quiet sniffles spurred me on, and I ignored the sting of splinters digging into my palms. “Almost there, baby. Just a little farther.”
“Hurry, Mom.” His voice cracked. “Jay’s hurt.”
My breath hitched, but I forced myself to keep moving, my focus narrowing to the pool of sunlight ahead. The boys were huddled together, Milo’s small frame curled around Jay’s larger one. Jay was stretched out on his back, his head resting in Milo’s lap, a dark smear of blood on his forehead.
Fear clawed up my throat, but I swallowed it down. “I’m here, sweethearts.” I reached for Milo first, my fingers brushing his shoulder. He was shaking, his face streaked with tears, but he didn’t pull away. “Hey, Milo. You’re doing so well, holding it together for your brother.”
Milo’s breath caught, but he nodded, his grip tightening on Jay’s hand. “He tripped. There was a nail, and it scraped him.”
I nodded, my gaze flicking over Jay’s still form. His chest was rising and falling steadily, at least, but the blood—god, the blood—made my stomach twist. “Okay. Let me see.” I kept my voice calm, even as my hands trembled. “Milo, can you move just a little? Let me get a better look at him.”
Milo shifted carefully, his movements stiff, like he was afraid to jostle Jay. I scooted closer, my fingers hovering over Jay’s forehead. The cut wasn’t deep, but head wounds bled like hell. My fingers came away sticky, and I wiped them on my jeans, my mind racing.
“Jay?” I murmured, pressing my palm gently to his cheek. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”
He didn’t stir, but his breathing stayed steady. That was good. That was good.
The blood was scary, but scarier still was the fact that he was still unconscious. “When did this happen?”
“Not too long ago. We were getting ready to go back to Aunt Jossy’s, and I didn’t want to go, and he was making me, and when he bent down to get me—”
Milo’s voice had risen progressively higher, his breaths coming in heaving gasps, and I knew he was on the verge of another meltdown.
So I turned my attention to him, cupping his face in my hands. “You did great, baby. This wasn’t your fault, and you kept him safe. Now I’m here, and I’m going to take care of both of you.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead, my voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s my job.”
He clung to me, reminding me of how young he really was, no matter how brave he pretended to be. As I rocked him, I kept my eyes on Jay, willing him to wake up.
As if my prayer had power, I saw his eyelids flicker, then slowly open. His dark gaze was unfocused, confused, but I sighed in relief.
Taking a deep breath, I knew what had to be done.
“Milo.” I made my voice as commanding as possible—even though I was shaking inside—as I set him away from me far enough to hold his gaze.
“Honey, you need to listen to me, okay? Your father is waiting for you right outside the access panel. You go out to him, tell him Jay is going to be okay. Tell him I’m going to take care of him, but he needs to call an ambulance. ”
Milo was shaking, but he gamely nodded, rubbing his running nose with the back of his wrist. I winced, deciding this wasn’t a time for a hygiene lecture, and shifted so he could crawl over me.
“I love you, baby,” I told him softly. “I’m proud of you for being so brave.”
I heard his sniffling stop a bit as he crawled around the curve of the tower, heading toward the access panel and safety, and I breathed a little easier as I bent to scoop my other son into my arms. I needed to give Milo enough time to get to the panel and out of our way, and Jay needed to be awake.
“As for you, mister…”
Jay’s grin was rueful, reminding me of his father, even with his eyes closed and his breathing ragged. “I haven’t been brave.”
“You most certainly have.” Carefully, I brushed his black hair away from the gash on his forehead. If it was from a nail, there was a risk of infection, but thank the Lord he was awake. “Too brave.”