Spells for Forgetting(13)

If Dutch could see it in my eyes now, he didn’t show it. August had always been the ocean between us. The past that had never let either of us go. And standing with Dutch beneath the unlit streetlamp now, it felt suddenly like we were eighteen years old again.

The sound of voices rose from the open doors down the street and I bit the inside of my cheek before I stepped around him, headed for its light.

He caught me by the arm, stopping me. “Wait a minute. You’re not going, are you?”

I looked up into his face, confused. “What? Of course I’m going.”

Dutch shifted on his feet, his gaze going over my head. “You sure that’s a good idea?” His voice lowered.

I pulled away from him without giving him an answer. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but I’d spent too long hiding from this town after August left Saoirse. I wasn’t going to do it again. I couldn’t.

There was a pause before I could hear Dutch’s footsteps following mine across the street. The wet, fallen leaves were piled before the entrance to the chapel like seaweed left behind after a storm. Above us, the white steeple reached up into the black sky, but its bell hadn’t rung even once in my lifetime. There’d been more than one softhearted Protestant minister who had come to resurrect the abandoned church and preach their gospel to the people of Saoirse.

They never stayed long.

“All right now, let’s settle down.”

Jake’s voice carried through the open windows, rising over the sound of chatter as I stopped before the doors. His jacket was still zipped up to his chin, his cheeks flushed from the night air, and the dark circles beneath his eyes made him look even more tired than he usually did. He stood in the center aisle, twisting his cap in his hands when he saw me. He’d probably hoped I wouldn’t come.

I pulled in a breath that filled my lungs with the cold before I stepped over the threshold and a hush fell over the chapel. Every eye fell on me, followed by the whispers. And I knew what they were saying.

“Emery and August…” I could hear our names tangled together in the silence, the way they’d always been. I clenched my teeth, swallowing down the hollow feeling it resurrected in me.

A hand touched my elbow and Dutch pulled me along the wall, to where Dad was standing in the back corner. His face lit with surprise when he caught sight of us, and I knew he was thinking the same thing. That we shouldn’t be there.

He scooted over anyway, making room for me, and when the woman next to him glared at us, he set his heavy gaze on her until she turned around. Dad was good at that—protecting me. Even if it had been years since I’d needed it.

Dutch fit himself behind me and the warmth of the room made me reach up to loosen the scarf around my neck. There wasn’t space to breathe. Not a single person who wasn’t watching me. Wondering what I would do. What I’d say.

When August left, he hadn’t just left Saoirse. He’d left me. And I’d been dragging his sins behind me ever since.

It looked as if nearly every person on the island was present, lined up against the stained-glass windows that stretched above the pews. Each member of the town council was scattered throughout the crowd—my father, Nixie Thomas, Leoda Morgan, Zachariah Behr, and Bernard Keller.

“By now, I’m sure you’ve all heard that August Salt came in on the ferry this morning,” Jake began.

Hearing the name spoken aloud again reignited the painful prick running over my skin. Behind me, I could feel Dutch go rigid.

“I know there are a lot of bad feelings.” He continued, “This is bound to dig things up that we’ve all worked hard to put behind us.”

“Well, what the hell is he doing here, Jake?”

I looked past my father to see Lily’s grandfather, Hans Morgan, on his feet. Both hands were clenched in his pockets, as if he were keeping himself from hitting something. Leoda was seated at his side.

It hadn’t taken long for Lily’s parents to leave Saoirse after she died, but Hans and Leoda had stayed. When they were gone, there wouldn’t be a single Morgan left on Saoirse. That was hard to imagine.

The pews creaked in the silence as people shifted in their seats and every eye turned back to Jakob, waiting for his answer.

“He’s come to bury Eloise.” His voice softened, and I could feel the air in the room change around the words.

The lump in my throat twisted, making me wince.

Eloise.

August’s mother had been beloved before what happened. She’d been like a second mother to me and inseparable from my own mother and Nixie since they were kids.

“Seems she died a few months ago, and she requested that her ashes be buried here on Saoirse with her kin.”

“Now, hold on just a minute.” Leoda was the first to argue, standing from her seat at the center of the room. A deep frown carved her slender face beneath her knit hat. “You’re not saying we’re going to allow him to bury her in the cemetery.”

Jake steeled himself. He’d been prepared for this. “I am.”

“We only bury our own on Saoirse!” someone shouted, and the claustrophobic sanctuary erupted in angry voices.

I watched my father’s face carefully for any sign of what he was thinking. But he was stoic. His eyes moved over the chapel slowly, the light shining in his empty eyes.

Jake lifted a hand into the air impatiently. “Now, every member of the Salt family has been buried on this island since this town was first founded,” he said, louder.