Page 39 of Dead of Summer
FAITH
The crowd parts for Faith as she makes her way up to the gazebo. She feels their eyes on her as she passes through them like a princess in a fairy tale. Or is she Marie Antoinette, heading to the chopping block?
She stumbles up the steps to the platform, where the two Clarke men stand waiting.
As soon as she reaches the top, David’s hand is on her elbow leading her, or she wonders if maybe he’s preventing her from leaving.
“Surprise,” he whispers in her ear as he guides her to the edge of the gazebo, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Faith. She has been David’s guest here on the island. We hope we haven’t scared her off.” Geoffrey bares his teeth into a tense smile. He holds his champagne glass aloft. He is daring her to make a move.
The air rushes from Faith’s lungs. She looks out at them all. A sea of strangers. But something is off about all of it.
“What’s going on?” Faith says under her breath, keeping her smile in place.
“I wanted to surprise you,” David whispers back, but a sheen has appeared on his forehead. A strange clench to his jaw.
“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” Geoffrey booms, raising his arms out to the partygoers like some sort of circus conductor.
“Get on with what?” Faith’s heart lurches.
“Trust me,” David says, taking her hand.
Faith looks out at the crowd. A shimmer of red hair catches the sunset, glowing like an ember.
Orla O’Connor looks straight back at her, unsmiling.
A shiver climbs up Faith’s neck. What is she doing here?
Faith doesn’t have time to figure it out.
There is a collective gasp from the crowd.
When she turns to look at David, he is no longer next to her but has dropped to the floor of the gazebo.
It takes her a moment to understand that he is on one knee.
She stifles a surprised cough as he reaches into his jacket pocket.
No no no.
“Faith, this past year with you has been one of the happiest of my life,” he says loud enough for the crowd to hear it.
This isn’t how she wanted it. She doesn’t like the strange clench to David’s jaw or the leer of Geoffrey behind him, or the audience watching.
Their mouths hang open, rapt, as David holds the little red box up toward her.
“I’ve been waiting for the right moment. I know neither of us are very public people, but Dad convinced me that this was the perfect time and place. To share my commitment to you with this island. I hope he was right.”
Faith knows how it looks: perfect man, down on one knee in front of a turquoise sea, beautiful woman, hands still to her mouth in surprise. David even manages to let out a nervous chuckle. The crowd laughs along with him. All is forgiven. Forgotten.
No, stop, she wants to cry out. This isn’t how it is supposed to go.
But the ring is there in front of her suddenly, shining up at her.
The sunset shows up right on time. It streams godlike rays of golden light onto the gazebo. As though it was scheduled for this exact moment. As though the Clarkes paid it too.
“Faith? Will you marry me?” David isn’t waiting for her reply. He’s already begun to pull the ring from its box.
The crowd chants.
Say yes, say yes!
She is nodding, stunned. The ring is heavy on her finger. It almost looks gaudy now, a display of wealth so obscene it is rendered meaningless. An impressed murmur rises from the audience as the facets of the diamond capture the light.
Everything wobbles a bit. And then David is lifting her off the ground, his lips are on hers. Her ears are rushing with blood. The Clarkes have a way of making things happen , Jean had said, and Faith wonders if she ever had a choice in the matter.
Faith watches as Geoffrey descends the gazebo steps in front of them.
The smile falls from his face the moment he turns away from the crowd.
David follows quickly behind him holding Faith by the arm.
She nearly trips in her high heels trying to keep up.
It is obvious Geoffrey had a hand in David’s proposal.
Faith wants to know why. They are intercepted at the bottom of the stairs.
The man has a wide build and round cheeks ruddy with alcohol.
“Congratulations!” he says, clapping David on the back.
His arm nearly hits Faith in the face as he reaches past her to embrace David.
“Off the market, buddy. You have no idea the trouble we used to get into,” he says too loudly.
His breath reeks of beer. His hands clamp onto David’s shoulders, edging her out. “Some of that shit wasn’t even legal.”
She looks past him, her eyes scanning for Elena, but instead she finds a vision of her mother.
Yesterday’s mascara is caked on her upper cheeks, her bra straps dig indents into the tops of her shoulders.
It’s the way she always looked on a very bad morning after a very good night out.
The cigarette is burned down almost to the end, but she pays it no mind.
She points it at Geoffrey, who is moving across the lawn ahead of her, smiling insincerely to his subjects.
“Be careful, sweet pea. I don’t like this for you. That man is up to no good. You remember what I told you back when you were just a kid?”
Faith’s chest hurts. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.
“That’s right, honey bear.”
“Look at you two, the perfect couple,” a woman is gushing when she turns her attention back to David. “Isn’t it a miracle when we find that special person?”
“I’m the lucky one,” David says, his teeth locked into an ultrawhite smile.
His arm rests too heavily around Faith’s shoulders.
As though he is trying to keep her from escaping.
She glances to where she last saw Geoffrey.
He is moving with purpose now, deeper into the crowd, no longer pausing to chitchat.
The last remnants of the sunset fade in the sky.
“I’m going to go get a drink,” she says, ducking out of David’s grasp before he can stop her.
She forces herself to kiss him on the cheek, reassuring him.
He gives a quick smile, still trapped in conversation.
But when she is sure he isn’t looking, she moves away from the bar, slipping along the side of the lawn, following Geoffrey.
He stops and says something to a bodyguard in a black suit who gives him a quick nod.
Geoffrey Clarke marches away from the party, escorted by the bodyguard.
Faith shadows him, stepping to the far side of the lawn, ducking in and out of the crowd as she tries to keep pace.
He is on a mission, she realizes; his arms pump as he moves with surprising speed toward the dock.
Faith hangs back at the edge of the lawn watching as they bound down the dock toward the white speedboat.
Geoffrey doesn’t break his stride as he steps aboard.
Faith watches helplessly as it pulls away and speeds out toward the Ophelia II .
Faith’s fists clench as the boat recedes from the bay.
She thinks of the pictures she saw inside the drawer.
She remembers the young legs with the knobby knees and the reflection in the portal window.
Geoffrey standing next to the Ophelia . Faith runs down to the beach and ducks under the dock, where a small rowboat is overturned.
She kicks her shoes off, digging her feet into the sand as she struggles to flip it.
It falls over with a metallic thump. She waits under the dock for a moment, her heart pumping, in case someone heard.
But no sound of footsteps or call of voices breaks through from the din of the party.
When she is sure she hasn’t been caught, she pulls the rowboat the short distance across the sand, shoving it into the waves.
She wades out next to it until the bottom of her dress drags across the black surface of the water.
Then she takes the hem in her hands and steps carefully aboard.
Using the dock for cover Faith pushes the boat out into the water with an oar, driving it into the sand until finally she scoops the oar down and no longer finds the bottom with it.
She dips both of the oars into the water now, cautiously at first, slowly pulling the boat out into the open bay.
As she leaves the safety of the dock, the sounds of the party fade into the rush of the water.
The boat is surprisingly swift as she gains momentum, cutting through the waves in the path of the moonlight.