“How’s your grandfather?” Phoebe asked.
Nick shrugged in frustration. “I didn’t stay,” he said. “The paramedics said he had a massive blockage. To be honest, I was sick of all the family drama.”
Phoebe touched his shoulder as they walked. “But don’t you-I mean, don’t you care about what happens to him? I mean, he is still your grandfather.”
Nick shook his head bitterly. “Yeah, I guess I care, in that way that I’m supposed to care. But do I really care? No. What they’ve done is inexcusable. He may not be in charge of the Society anymore, but I still hold him responsible, along with my dad and everyone else. And why he had to have a stroke during the funeral, I have no idea. He certainly succeeded in taking people’s attention away from the real event.”
Nick kicked the muddy leaves on the ground as they walked.
“You don’t think he faked it for that reason, do you?” Phoebe asked.
Nick smiled grimly. “No. He’s a bastard, but I don’t think he’s able to spontaneously give himself a stroke. Anyway, he’s in the hospital now, recovering.”
“I’m sorry,” Phoebe said.
Nick shrugged again. “I really don’t think about him the way I know you’re supposed to feel about family.”
Nick wondered, as they walked, if these feelings would ever change. His family had betrayed him. First they had covered up their involvement in the Society. Next they orchestrated the deaths of two people Nick knew. He had been blocking it out during most of the past two weeks. And then Patch had come into the fold, had been instantly declared a member of the Society after he had infiltrated the retreat. Nick was happy that their rift was starting to heal, but it had brought up a host of other issues. Would Patch ever forgive him for shutting him out during those months? And would Patch accept the truth Nick now knew, the secret his father had told him the morning after Patch’s initiation?
Nick had decided, for now, that that conversation had happened to a different Nick Bell, that he and Patch were good, that there were no rifts to be mended, no awkward subjects to be broached.
“Are you doing okay?” Phoebe asked.
He realized he hadn’t said anything in several minutes, had been staring at the ground as they walked. He appreciated how Phoebe would, most of the time, leave him alone to his thoughts when she knew he needed it.
“I’m so angry at all of them,” Nick said. “I mean, how can we be part of this when we know everything that they’ve done? And now, with my family, I can already sense it. If we tell them we want out, they’re going to deflect it: it’s going to be all about my grandfather and his health. ‘Don’t bother us now, Nick, not when your grandfather’s health is at risk. Stop worrying about petty things, Nick.’ As if our friends dying is somehow petty.”
“Maybe going to them isn’t the answer,” Phoebe said.
“So what can we do?”
Phoebe paused. “Boycott the mandatory meetings? Not just us, but the five of us-you and me and Lauren and Patch and Thad. That’s a third of our class. It would drive the point home, don’t you think?”
At that moment, Nick’s phone started buzzing. Phoebe motioned to him to answer it, and he picked it up, even though it was not a number he recognized.
“Your grandfather would like to see you,” a male voice said.
“Who is this?” Nick asked.
“It would be in your best interest to visit him at the hospital. The other family members are gone.” Whoever was calling didn’t want to identify himself.
“Why should I visit him?”
“He knows about your wishes. He wants to help you.”
The line clicked off.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Nick said. “We’re being summoned-well, officially, I’m being summoned-to go see my grandfather at the hospital because he ‘knows about our wishes.’ Whatever that means.”
Phoebe shook her head. “Do you really think you should go?”
“I don’t know,” Nick said. “Would you go with me?” He thought back to that moment in the fall when he and Phoebe had promised to look out for each other.
Phoebe paused, and for an instant he thought she might turn the other way, catch a cab downtown, never speak to him again.
She nodded slowly, taking his hand. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Six
Like most people, Nick hated hospitals. They creeped him out, and New York-Presbyterian was no exception. Not only was it a hospital, but its lobby’s architecture was like a Gothic cathedral, with vaulted ceilings and dark wooden plaques on the walls and even a little chapel near the entrance where people could pray for their loved ones’ speedy recovery.
All in all, it was not a fun place to spend an evening.
Nick and Phoebe took the elevator to the intensive care unit. He was grateful that Phoebe had wanted to accompany him on this trip.
The word was that Palmer’s condition had stabilized, though his doctors were keeping him under close observation. Visiting hours were officially over, but Palmer had left word at the desk that Nick was to be let up.
Outside Palmer Bell’s room, one of the Guardians was standing watch in a dark suit. He nodded to Nick and Phoebe as they entered, though Nick ignored the brutish guard.
Nick’s grandfather was conscious, but his movements and speech patterns were slow. It felt so strange to see the handsome older man lying in a bed, powerless.
“How are you doing, sir?” Nick asked. “You remember Phoebe, right?”
“Mmmmpph,” Palmer grumbled.
“Is there anything we can do for you? Do you need anything?” Nick knew he was asking more out of reflex than anything else, as he knew all his grandfather’s needs were taken care of.
Palmer cleared his throat and began speaking slowly. “I’m glad you came. I do need you to do something for me.”
“Of course, anything.” Nick realized that he was being polite to his grandfather out of tradition and habit, not out of any genuine sense of respect.
There was a pause, as if Palmer were collecting his thoughts. Nick heard Phoebe shifting awkwardly as she stood beside him.
“Your father won’t understand this, your brothers won’t understand this. I will not tell them about it, and I suggest you don’t, either.”
Nick nodded.
“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last. And I know you want to get out.”
Nick looked at Palmer, then at Phoebe. “What do you mean, sir?”
“I know you want out of the Society. It has been obvious from the first week. Your actions last month on the island made it very clear.”
“Well, I-I mean-” Nick stammered. He didn’t know what to say. “Why-why would you say this?”
“Nicholas, I want you to live the life that you want to lead, not one that has been set up for you by your family. I have seen-I have seen how destructive that can be. How much can be ruined when families tell their children how to live.”
Nick nodded. “What about my friends?”
“If you do this one task for me, you and your friends will never hear from the Society again.”
Nick paused. This was a major breakthrough, the chance to gain freedom from this group that had terrorized them over the past several months.
“What is the task?”
Palmer chuckled, and then started coughing. When it subsided, he spoke again. “Now just telling you-that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose so.” Nick looked glumly back at Phoebe, as she shrugged.
Another day, another riddle. It seemed as if that was what their life was amounting to these days. Nick heard Phoebe sigh.
Palmer clutched Nick’s hand. His grandfather’s fingers felt dry and brittle in his own.
“Son, you must go to the beach. You’ll find everything you need at the beach. At both beaches.”
“I’m not sure I understand. What’s at the beach?”
“All the treasures are buried in the sand. You remember the beach: the sand castles, all the shells, the jellyfish, the pieces of driftwood you would bring back to the house. You and your brothers used to spend all day on the beach.”