Chapter 2: Changing Tide
IN THE WEEK THAT NINA HAS BEEN IN LA PUSH, John Powell's small cabin has become a revolving door of nonstop visitors.
Ellen Uley and her daughter on Monday. Billy and Jacob Black on Tuesday. Connie Littlesea and her son on Wednesday. Charlie Swan and Billy again on Thursday. Molly Ateara and her grandsons on Friday.
Nina finds herself wondering if it's a usual occurrence or some elaborate (but clumsy, oh so clumsy) plan to get her out of her room. She can't help but be suspicious of the latter option, especially with the convenient amount of visitors with teenage children tagging along. It's like a weird friendship matchmaking service with Nina in the middle of it all.
The only reprieve from six exhausting days had been a visit from Sue Clearwater on Saturday. She was one of the few visitors who hadn't brought her children, though she promised Nina she had two of them. What Sue did bring, however, was a plate of chocolate chip cookies that smelled like heaven and tasted like ambrosia.
(After Sue had left Grandpa John told Nina about the recent death of her husband Harry. Nina didn't tell him how Sue reminded her of her own mother, or how much that made her hurt heart.)
Nina rolls over onto her back, sleepless eyes blinking up at the ceiling. Maybe Grandpa John had thought if he kept her busy she wouldn't have time to think. In a way he was right, but it also left her feeling suffocated and resentful.
With a sigh she pulls herself up, glancing at the clock on her wall. She steps down the hall, careful not to wake her sleeping grandfather. She gets a drink of water from the kitchen, her eyes catching the glimmer of John's keys hanging by the door.
In that moment she decides she'll go crazy if she has to spend another minute in that house. She slips on a pair of boots and grabs the keys from their hanger, letting them jangle in her hand as she sprints as quietly as possible to the white truck in the driveway.
She unlocks the door, an invigorating rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins as she hops into the driver's seat and starts up the ignition.
Dark, untamed road stretches out in front of her as Nina messes around with the radio dial. She settles for a classic rock station as she continues to drive to nowhere in particular-she's not sure where she's going but she has half a tank to do it.
Eventually Nina runs out of road and ends up at the coast. She parks the Ranger where grass meets sand, grabbing a blanket from behind the passenger's seat to wrap around her body.
The only light she's provided is by the moon peeking through the clouds. The ocean is as still as glass, the horizon nearly indistinguishable from the surf. Nina shivers.
Her boots sink into the sand, making an unpleasant squelch as she walks. She's startled by the sound of howls echoing from the forest. She breathes in the salty air and finds that somehow she isn't afraid.
She moves closer to the water's edge and watches the gentle ebb and flow of the dark tides. She lifts her head—the night is full of stars.
Another howl rips through night, closer now. Nina decides she's stolen enough peace from the quiet beach and makes her way back to the truck.
. . .
Nina swears under her breath as she pulls up to the driveway. The living room light is on.
There's a man standing on the porch, arms folded over his chest. It takes her only a moment to realize it's not her grandfather. He gives her a quick glance before turning to open the door and disappear into the house.
She shuts off the engine and takes in a shaky breath, unsure what awaits her behind the door.
When she enters the house John is perched on his favorite recliner with the man from the porch standing off to the side.
There's a long drag of silence before John clears his throat.
"If you want to borrow the truck all you have to do is ask, Nina."
"I'm sorry." She lowers her head. "I just wanted to get some air."
"It's not safe to go out alone at night. You're lucky Sam was able to see you out there to keep an eye out and come tell me."
She turns her head to look at the tall, muscled man. She hadn't seen anyone else on that beach, but it was dark—she could have been mistaken.
"Thank you, Sam." Nina says quietly, an unsettling feeling in her gut. John nods in dismissal, radiating some serious mafioso vibes, and the young man turns his attention to her.
"Be safe, Nina." Sam's gaze is heavy, there's something in his eyes she can't quite read. "Goodbye, John. Have a good night."
Sam leaves and Nina is hit by an instant pang of guilt. She watches her grandfather reach for his walking stick and shakily rise from his recliner.
"I'm sorry," She tells him once more, a frown settled on her lips. "I won't do it again."
"No, you won't." He sighs. "Would you like some hot chocolate? It gets cold at night this close to the coast."
"Um, yes. Please." She watches in confusion as he moves around the kitchen.
He places two steaming hot cups of cocoa on the kitchen island. She takes one, warming up her hands and inhaling the aroma. It's been a long time since she's had hot chocolate.
"Nina." He says her name in an exhale. She can feel the disappointment and frustration. "I know I said you could finish the year with that online program but I think it's best if you go to the reservation school in the fall."
"I…" She tries to find a valid excuse, but can't. Instead she just sips her cocoa and nods. "Okay."
"Okay?" He gives her a small smile.
"Um, Grandpa John?"
"Hm?"
"If I asked what Sam was doing on the beach, you wouldn't tell me, would you?"
Her question seems to have caught the older man off guard but he quickly regains his composure.
"No, Nina. I wouldn't."
Just as she thought, there was something strange about La Push.
. . .
The next day Nina sleeps through her alarms, but the extra hours of rest are so rare that she doesn't mind. She rubs the exhaustion from her eyes as she lets out a yawn.
She would think the night before had been a dream if it weren't for a laugh from downstairs.
"She stole your truck? This is why I told you to hide your keys."
"Unnecessary then and unnecessary now."
The first voice is gritty and griseled, like an aged cowboy. The second voice is definitely Grandpa John. She guesses he must be meeting with one of the other council elders.
She hovers at the stairs, unable to move but unable to stop listening.
"Not unnecessary… Kids rebel, that's just how they are." The unfamiliar voice says.
"Sam's boys found her at the beach. Luckily they thought to follow her home and make sure she was safe."
What?
How had they followed her? And who was they?
Nina wracks her brain for answers, her breath coming out labored at the thought of being followed and having no idea. How could Sam have gotten to the house before her if she hadn't even seen a car?
What the hell was going on?
She hears the back door creak open and the two older men greet the newcomer.
"Quil, how was patrol—"
The voices quiet abruptly, a silence enveloping the house. Nina wants to peek down the stairs to see what caused the change but is interrupted by her grandfather's voice calling out from the dining room.
"Nina?" His voice is louder than it had been before, as if meant to reach her room. "Why don't you come down for lunch?"
Her heart races as she clutches the stair rails. Did they know she was there? How?
Without speaking, she lingers for a moment before walking down the last remaining steps and entering the room.
"Hi, grandpa." She greets him in a small voice, barely above a whisper. She eyes the teenage boy in their living room, wearing nothing but a pair of cargo shorts.
There's an ornate tribal tattoo on his shoulder, and she swears she's seen it before.
"Nina, this is my friend Quil Ateara, and his grandson—"
"Quil Ateara. The fifth." The boy speaks up with a smirk, but the amusement on his lips doesn't quite reach his eyes. His glance is scrutinizing, it's as if he's sizing her up.
"It's nice to meet you." She says for the hundredth time. All she had been doing since she came to La Push was meet new people. She was beginning to feel like a sideshow curiosity.
(Come one, come all, dare to be amazed by the little orphan girl.)
Nina wordlessly eats one of the sandwiches Old Quil had brought, listening to the conversation at the table. It feels a little bit like déjà vu. Even if she doesn't speak the conversation goes on. Even if she doesn't want to be there the world still moves around her.
"Oh, I gotta go!" Quil jumps up suddenly, followed by the sound of shouting and laughter outside. "Seeya John, seeya grandpa."
"Be good, Quil."
"I will!" The boy promises through bites of a sandwich—his fifth, Nina had counted in amazement—before he disappears out the door.
Nina glances out the window, noticing two young men (also just as barely dressed) greet Quil with a playful tackle. The taller of the two boys is vaguely familiar to Nina, though she doesn't remember him being one of the many guests in their home the past week. It feels as if she's known him longer than that, maybe from when she came to visit her grandparents over the summer as a kid.
On each boy's shoulder is the same tribal tattoo. Her eyebrows furrow as she realizes where she had seen it before: on the arm of Jacob Black.
"That tattoo," Nina speaks suddenly, catching the attention of the two elders at the table. She meets her grandfather's eyes with a knowing frown. "Ah, another thing you can't tell me?"
"Maybe one day," Old Quil muses, his voice deep and rich.
She drowns out the old men's continued chatter as she watches the tall boy run off with the others.
. . .
Even if it may seem uneventful, Nina has created a routine for herself.
She wakes up, works on her homework, and takes a nap or two. Sometimes she'll read one of the old weathered books on a shelf in her room. Most of this routine is accomplished without changing out of her pajamas.
On a particularly warm day, Nina sits curled up on the sill of the bay window, a book dangling in her fingers. She looks out the window, a tiny almost smile on her lips—anto April rain had coated the thick green leaves in a magical luster. The trees glisten in the late spring sun.
She notices a figure in the tree line, tall and tan and lean.
The condensation on the window creates a foggy haze as she watches him pace back and worth. She can't look away, transfixed by the boy below.
Her mouth opens in confusion as he pulls his shirt from over his head, and then just as suddenly takes off his shorts. He stands naked in the clearing for a moment, slivers of sunlight bouncing off of his well defined back.
Nina begins to lower her head, feeling guilty for spying when a flash of movement catches her eye.
A gasp leaves her lips, her hand pressing against the window in disbelief, as she watches man transform into beast.
She blinks, hard, wondering if she's finally lost it. She barely sleeps, she barely eats, it would make sense for her eventually crack and start hallucinating… She opens her eyes again, just in time to see the giant wolf launch itself into the treeline.
Her eyes narrow as she notices something in the grass—where the wolf had been now lays a pile of clothes.