Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(69)

“Look, we’re fine.” Bruce kissed her head, moved toward the glass sliders. “Gigi’s fine with my mom. So, no worries there. Liza and Mako are just having a fight, obviously. Whatever you saw, who knows, right? You said yourself that your perception was altered. This storm will pass, they’ll clear the road and we’ll go home.”

The way he said it, it all sounded so simple, so light. Maybe he was right and she was overreacting.

“But we saw someone.” All her buzz, that pleasant loopy feeling was gone. She may have been a little high, but she knew what she saw.

“I’ll be careful. Let me go after your brother.”

“Okay,” she said following. She kissed him on the mouth.

“Bruce,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

He put a warm hand to her cheek and smiled.

“You never have to apologize to me.”

“Bruce—”

“I’ll be right back.”

Then he was gone, too, into the storm which seemed to pick up volume after he left. She could see the tops of the trees thrashing and waving, wild dancers against the night sky.

Cricket was sitting on the couch with Joshua, holding the ice pack to his head.

“Worst vacation ever,” said Cricket, voice a little wobbly.

So, Cricket and Mako’s on-again, off-again thing that Hannah pretended not to know about but did. Both of them had promised that it was over for good, but clearly it wasn’t. She wondered again if Mako and Cricket had been up to something and Liza had caught them. How many times had Mako cheated on Liza with Cricket? And others? Had they stopped when Cricket started seeing Joshua?

She flashed again on the blood stains on the white sheets, felt the cold finger of dread down her spine.

“What?” said Cricket. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like this is my fault.”

Hannah sank into one of the plush oversized chairs, rested her head in one hand.

Her head ached, pain throbbing behind her eyes as she looked up at her old friend. Cricket wasn’t just her friend, or Mako’s, over the years she’d become part of the family. She kept in touch with Sophia independently of them, even had a yearly tradition of stopping by with gifts to leave under the tree for Christmas morning. She was the sister Hannah would have chosen, if you could choose such things. But like Mako, Cricket had a wild streak, a selfish streak. She couldn’t always be counted on to do the right thing.

“Do you remember Libby?” asked Hannah.

Cricket’s eyes darted to Joshua, then back to Hannah. “Why would you bring that up now?”

“Who’s Libby?” asked Joshua, sounding a little groggy. Her first aid and lifeguard training kicked in. You were supposed to keep people with head injuries awake, right? Looking at Joshua more closely now, she wondered if they did have an actual emergency. Mako hadn’t even seemed to notice that Joshua was hurt. Because, truly, he didn’t care about anyone but himself.

“She’s a girl we used to know, a hundred years ago,” Cricket said quickly.

“She accused Mako of raping her,” Hannah said.

Cricket’s eyes went wide, as if she couldn’t believe Hannah would say it out loud. But it was public knowledge, out there for anyone who wanted to do a Google search.

“She lied,” said Cricket. “Everybody knows she was a slut. She was trying to ruin his life because he rejected her.”

That was not the whole truth and Cricket knew it. Hannah would have thought her friend was above slut shaming; she’d have thought every educated woman was. Libby. The name had rung back to her many times over the years. Every time she felt a complicated wash of anger and shame.

“But that was before you could ruin someone’s life that way,” said Hannah. “In fact, that was back when if you accused someone of raping you, it ruined your life.”

“Did he? Rape her?” asked Joshua. He seemed more alert now. And Hannah felt a rush of guilt, of protectiveness for her brother.

Hannah lifted her shoulders, shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t know.”

“Anyway,” said Cricket. “It was a hundred years ago, when we were kids.”

When we were kids. They hadn’t been kids really, but young adults. But yeah, better to leave the past where it belonged.

Hannah got up and found another flashlight in the kitchen.

“Can I check your eyes?” she said, walking over to Joshua. “To see if they dilate?”

He nodded. She shined the light on his face, and there it was again, that powerful feeling of recognition, of knowing him. His pupils grew tiny in the light, then expanded again when the beam was less direct.

“That’s good, right?” said Cricket.

“I think so,” said Hannah. “Any nausea, sleepiness, ringing in the ears?”

“I mean I don’t feel great. But no none of that. I think I’m okay.”

She inspected the cut. It looked was deep, gaping like a mouth. He needed stitches. She’d dig through her purse for some Band-Aids and try to butterfly it, at least.

She moved away from him, keeping her eyes on him. Cricket had her fingers laced through his. “I’ll get some more ice,” she said, rising.