Waiting for the Storm Read Online Free

stupid,” I muttered, turning my face away. I’d developed a fear of water when I was two and had almost drowned after being accidentally pushed into a neighbour’s pool. Years later, Mom and Dad had given me swimming lessons with the hope I’d get over my fear, and ironically enough I was a good swimmer and enjoyed swimming in pools, but I was terrified of open water. I knew that could present a problem this summer since we were living on an island surrounded by Lake Ontario, and our house was apparently right on the beach.
    “You always were her favourite.” Ella’s voice was so cold it made me shiver.
    “I wasn’t.” I shook my head as my eyes started to sting. “I don’t know why you think—”
    “Save it, Charlotte,” she interrupted me. “Just save it. She’s gone now, so it doesn’t matter.”
    Her words felt like a slap to the face. I staggered back, gripping the railing so hard my knuckles turned white.
    “Careful,” Ella warned with a sneer. “Wouldn’t want you to fall overboard.”
    She whirled around and walked away, the sound of her high-heeled sandals echoing around me like gunshots.
    So much for the sisterly bonding I’d been hoping for.
    *****
    I waited until almost the last minute to go back to the car. The ferry was slowing to a stop and angling into the dock when I slipped into the backseat. I wondered briefly if either Dad or Ella would have noticed if I hadn’t returned.
    We drove slowly off the ferry, passing people who were waiting to be reunited with loved ones. There was a lot of smiling, waving, calling of names, and hugging. I averted my eyes, looking instead at the line of cars waiting to go across to Kingston.
    We went up a small hill and turned left onto Main Street. I figured this was the big draw for tourists who came to the island—there was an old-fashioned general store, a bed and breakfast, a restaurant, a museum, and a number of small shops and boutiques all crammed together on both sides of the street.
    Mom had loved quaint little places like this. When Ella and I were younger, Mom would often spontaneously decide to take a mini road trip, and the three of us would pile into the car and drive until we came to a small town that interested Mom. We’d wander the shops, buy kitschy souvenirs, have lunch, and then head home. Each time, we went a little further in search of a new town, but we also had our favourites that we returned to on occasion.
    Memories like that—random adventures, days spent laughing, talking, and being silly—made me wonder how Ella could possibly think I was Mom’s favourite. Just because we remained close while Ella drifted away didn’t mean Mom loved us any differently.
    Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I tried to pay attention to the turns Dad was taking so I’d remember how to get back to the dock. The paved road of Main Street transitioned into gravel as we headed away from the water and toward the south end of the island. Here, there was nothing but open fields with the occasional herd of sheep or cows. A few houses could be seen in the distance, but it appeared to be mostly farmland.
    We turned again and the water came back into view. The street was paved here, and came very close to the water’s edge. I was beginning to think we’d soon drive right into the lake when houses finally came into view. There were just a few at first, spaced far apart, but they got closer and closer until we drove through an area that reminded me of Main Street, only less crowded. I was surprised to see a school, a small store, and a diner, as well as several other businesses.
    We turned down another gravel road, and I knew we must be nearly there. The houses here were smaller and looked like beach houses, although I knew they were all winterized and people lived here year round. Mom had told me that when she came here for summers, theirs was the only house that wasn’t winterized, and it sat empty most of the year.
    During her research, Mom