The Storm and the Darkness Read Free Page B

pride with its unwillingness to spend money to fix anything.  
    “Mayor Cairne’s been askin’ for money from Portland but e’er since we broke free they ain’t fixin’ to give us a dime,” Alex had complained to her. “Anyhow, drive the strip nearly all the way to Edgewater’s at the South Shore, and just ‘fore the road turns into a private drive you’ll see Jack’s. It’s small, but the red, white and blue stripes are hard to miss.”
    Ana was surprised to see so many people there. Jack’s was no bigger than a shack, with two windows–one for ordering, one for pick-up–and just as Alex had said, the building was painted in large, patriotic stripes. The parking lot was small and half the spots had erupted cement, rendering them useless. With the crowd gathered, she had to park down the road.  
    Walking up to the window, Ana counted ten people in front of her. She sighed. Do I really have anything better to do? She slid in line behind a tall, dark-haired gentleman.
    He turned around and she recognized him immediately. It was Jonathan St. Andrews. Doctor St. Andrews, as the islanders called him, otherwise known as the town veterinarian, and the unpleasant neighbor she had been avoiding.
    He looked at Ana, without any expression or indication of his thoughts, for what was an awkward ten seconds or so. He then turned back around without saying a word. She blinked and stared at his back, trying to process what had happened.
    Ana’s instinct was to withdraw back into herself and go on as if nothing happened. She avoided conflict and awkwardness at all costs, and she didn’t want it here, in public, especially. But Ana was raised to be kind and hospitable, and the two weeks she had been on Summer Island had been anything but kind and hospitable. Jon’s childish behavior was at the pinnacle of this inexcusable lack of hospitality, and it could not be borne. Emboldened, she tapped him on the shoulder.
    “Hi,” she said, her voice unsteady, “I believe we are neighbors.”
    Giving a response that sounded more like a grunt than actual words, he continued to face forward.
    The blood rushed to her face, and her toes curled up in silent anger. Not even in New Orleans had she met someone who was so openly rude without cause.  
    Ana took a deep breath and stepped in front of him. He couldn’t hide his shock at her boldness, but he quickly recovered himself, and tried to push past her again. “Ana Deschanel,” she said. She thrust her hand toward him, daring him to respond.
    His eyes darted to the left and the right for a moment. Realizing there was no avoiding it, he reluctantly took her hand and mumbled, “Jon St. Andrews.” He dropped her hand like it carried the plague.
    This was the first time Ana had seen his face in clear view, and she was surprised that he was not much older than she was. He didn’t look anything like his younger brother, or what she had seen of Finn from a distance. Finn was stockier of build with a raw, rugged earthy strength that went well with his strong features and ruddy blonde hair. In contrast, Jonathan was tall–much taller than she had realized before he turned to face her–with hair the color of midnight that looked soft and delicate to the touch. His face had the same softness, with only a few lines just around his mouth, reminding her of the wings of an eagle set to flight. He had the appearance of a man who has never seen hard days, but his eyes betrayed a much different truth. They were the color of emeralds, but had the depth of an entire forest. If not for the look of pure animosity on his face, she thought he would be handsome, in a dark sort of way.
    Handsome, though, was the last description she had on her mind now that she was face to face with the reclusive island vet.
    “So you’re a veterinarian?” Ana probed. She was enjoying his disquiet.  
    “Yes,” Jon said, shifting uncomfortably. He continued to look past her as if he was waiting for someone, but no