Spells for Forgetting(37)

I’d never told anyone what I saw on those nights, fearing that if I did, it would somehow cross from the shadow of my mind to the light of day. It had been years since I’d heard the screaming and woken with the numbing cold in my fingertips. But it had been three nights since the starling flew into the window, and with each one, the dream had returned.

I finally got up and lit the candle, dragging the quilt behind me as I came down the hallway to the living room. There was a whisper in the air when I lifted the lid on the box. For a moment, I thought it was some kind of warning, my mother touching the veil of the Otherworld in a last plea from her to let the past go.

But I couldn’t let go. My mother had never been one to keep secrets. Yet she did. Fifty-eight of them. And all this time, they had been up there in the attic. Just waiting to be found.

I pulled the envelopes from the box, sorting them on the floor before me. The postage dates spanned eight years, beginning one month after August and Eloise left Saoirse and ending four months before my mother died.

We’d never kept secrets from each other before. It wasn’t until after the fire that my parents started lying to me. I could hear it in the lilt of their voices, when they smiled too wide or when they didn’t quite look me in the eye. It was little things at first. Futile attempts at distracting me or sugarcoating something that was overheard in town.

The memories whirled into blurred colors and shapes. Those nights had been cold. Lonely. After August left, I cried myself to sleep every night, watching my father’s shadow beneath my door, and I stopped leaving the house. It was months before I’d even let Dutch come over. A few times a week, he’d show up on the porch and I’d refuse to come to the door. So he and my dad would sit out on the steps and talk awhile until he left.

Eventually, I stopped looking for August, but I didn’t stop thinking about him.

Every autumn, when the crowds filled Main Street, I would watch out the window of my mother’s shop and imagine him appearing in the stream of faces. More than once, I even thought I saw him.

It took longer than I wanted to admit for me to realize that I couldn’t cut him from me. That some part of him had been fused to places I couldn’t even see. It followed me wherever I went. And each day when the sun went down, I dreaded that moment that the aching would find me again.

There were bad nights and then there were worse nights, but every single one of them, I was alone.

Faint sunlight was lifting over the trees outside by the time I summoned up the courage to pull the first letter from its envelope. I held my breath, biting the inside of my cheek as I began to read. Eloise’s slanted handwriting pulled across the pages in even, practiced lines.

    Hannah,

We’ve made it to Prosper, and it’s just as beautiful as I remember. Beautiful, but it’s not home. The house we’ve rented is furnished. The neighborhood is mostly quiet, but the sound of traffic on the main road is a bit grating. We’ll get used to it. I think we’ll get used to things. We both just need a fresh start. A clean slate.

Please write and tell me how the orchard is getting on. I’m desperate to know. And please don’t tell anyone I’ve written. Please don’t tell Emery.

Love,

Eloise





I swallowed, staring at my name written in Eloise’s script. We’d always been close. We were family. August wasn’t the only one who’d broken my heart when they left.

If this was the first letter she’d written, then my parents had known about her plan and where she was going before August and Eloise even left. I wondered now if they were the only ones.

I refolded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. The next one was posted two months later.

    Hannah,

August started at the community college last week. Never thought I’d say those words. He’s never wanted to go to college. I guess that’s one good thing that’s come out of this mess. He’s quiet and I admit it’s been worrying me. I’m trying not to ask too many questions or bother him, but you know how I worry.

I’ve found a tea shop in town, but it’s nothing to yours. Can I burden you with a small request? I would be so grateful if you’d send me some tea from the shop. I started a job working at a café while August is at school and so far, it’s fine. I’ve been thinking I might sell the cottage on the island and give the money to August for school. I don’t know. It feels too final to sell that house when it’s been in the family so long. Henry would probably have a fit.

The sea is different here. It feels and smells different. So do the trees.

Love,

Eloise



Hannah,

My grandmother used to always say that if you left the island, it would call you back. I think that’s true. I dream about it. Sometimes I feel like I can feel its fingers in the air, pulling me back north to Puget Sound. We don’t belong here.

Sorry for the sad letter. I’ll do better next time.

Love,

Eloise



Hannah,

I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. I woke up a few days ago and August was gone. I thought he’d left early for class, but when he didn’t come home by afternoon, I spent the whole night pacing the floor. I didn’t want to call the police. I don’t want them finding out about what happened. I don’t want anyone here to know.