Spells for Forgetting(21)

“What was that?” I muttered.

“Who cares?” August said, a little too harshly. He pushed his wet hair back again as Dutch’s footsteps trailed up the path into the woods behind us.

I fit myself into the crook of his arm. Lily had a flair for the dramatic and on an island where every day was nearly identical, she found her own ways to keep things interesting. I usually tried to stay out of it.

August fell quiet as the water climbed up the rocks, touching our feet.

“You wanna talk about it?” I asked softly.

“Not really.” He took another drink.

I didn’t push because it never worked. My eyes focused on the tinge of blue beneath his skin. The mark was almost invisible now, but there would be another. And another.

I don’t know when exactly we agreed to start keeping the secret, but the older I got, the more I wondered just how much of a secret it was. Henry Salt was hated by almost everyone on the island, but he also held all the power. Without the orchard, there would be no town. But no one lived forever, even on Saoirse. At the end of the day, I realized, we were all just waiting for him to die.

August set the bottle between his feet, propping his elbows onto his knees. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

He hesitated, falling quiet for so long that I thought maybe he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say. “What if we really do it?”

“Do what?”

“Leave.”

My brow pinched as I studied the look on his face. We’d been joking about leaving Saoirse together for months. Just getting on a ferry one morning and taking off. But we’d never been serious. I hadn’t thought we were, anyway.

“After graduation.” He paused. “What if we just go?”

I laughed nervously, pulling my arm from his. “I can’t tell if you’re serious.”

“I am.” He didn’t quite look at me. Like he was afraid of what my answer might be.

I stared past him, to the water, where the clouds were beginning to darken. The sea had turned from blue to gray in a matter of moments and I could smell rain in the air. There were always kids who talked about leaving Saorise, but most of them didn’t. Those who did usually returned. And the question wasn’t as simple as whether or not I wanted to. Our families were on Saoirse. So were Dutch and Lily. There was the orchard. And the tea shop.

“What about the orchard?” I asked. “And your mom?”

August bristled, dragging one hand across the back of his neck. “Would you come with me?” This time, he did look at me. And the way his eyes searched mine made a sinking feeling pull at my center.

He bit down on his bottom lip, turning back toward the water. “Never mind. It’s a stupid idea.” I pulled my knees up into my chest, pinning my eyes to the sand between us. Neither of us had ever wanted our parents’ lives, but it had all seemed inevitable. And I’d always thought that as long as we were together, it was something we could want, eventually. I’d never asked myself if I wanted to leave Saoirse, because this was where August was. But leaving…together? The thought was like the glimmer of light that touched the cliffs just before the sun rose. “Yeah.” I breathed. “I would.” The answer came so easily that it surprised me. But it was true.

August stilled. “I’m serious, Em.”

I shifted on the rock, turning so I could meet his eyes. Maybe it had started as a joke, but neither of us was laughing now.

A small smile broke on my lips. “So am I.”





Twelve


    EMERY


It was late afternoon by the time I made it to the shop and found a note on the door.

The crowds on Main Street had begun to make their way to the pub and in a few hours, the last ferry would take them home. On the surface, it was a day like any other. But beneath Saoirse’s skin, the island was humming with discontent. I could feel it in the flick of wind as I climbed the steps to the shop, my eyes drifting to the broken window.

Peter’s careless handwriting ran off the scrap piece of paper that was wedged into the jamb. If I hadn’t been deciphering the mailman’s notes for half my life, it would have been illegible.

Package for pickup—



I returned the key to my pocket and went back down the steps, following the slanted sidewalk. The post office was a tiny building tucked like a book between the bakery and the hardware store, with only one window that looked out to the street.

An iron bell hung from a rope on the other side of the door and it jingled as I pulled it open. Inside, the mail clerk peered up over the stack of papers on her desk. The sunlight reflected on her cat-eye glasses as unease dampened her smile. “Hey there, Em.”

This was exactly why I’d wanted to avoid town and exactly why Albertine wouldn’t let me.

“Hey, Margaret.” I held up the piece of paper, waving it in the air. “Got Peter’s note.”

“Ah, yes.” She rose from her chair, the hunch in her back tipping her forward and making it difficult to keep her glasses on her nose. “He said you were out.”

It sounded like a question. No one missed a thing on this island, and every shopkeeper on Main Street had probably spent the morning speculating as to why I wasn’t in the tea shop. After the meeting last night, there wouldn’t be a mouth in Saoirse that wasn’t uttering my name.