Spells for Forgetting(38)

He was gone almost two days and then he showed up late last night. He went back to the island. I could almost smell it on him, Hannah—that smell of the woods. I honestly don’t know what he was thinking. He’s promised me that Emery didn’t see him and I think he’s telling the truth. I think he just wanted to see her.

I don’t know if I did the right thing by bringing him here. I don’t know what the right thing is to do anymore. He’s not happy. He sits in the chair by the front window with his headphones on and listens to music, and I don’t know what he’s waiting for. I think maybe he hopes…I don’t know. I hope August didn’t do anything stupid while he was there.

Love,

Eloise





He came back.

The words blurred in my vision as angry tears filled my eyes and I closed them, searching the hazy memories of those awful days—when I was so hungry to see him that the pain of it had suffocated me, he’d been there. Somewhere.

I tossed the letter aside, reaching for the next one. And then the next.

    Hannah,

I’ve just finished reading your letter and I don’t know what to say about this news. I have no words for it. I cannot imagine a world without you in it.

You saved my life once. I wish I could save yours.

Love,

Eloise





I sighed, refolding the paper carefully. I’d known for a while before we found out about the cancer that something wasn’t right with Mom. The light around her had changed.

When she told me, she knew she wouldn’t get better. The tea leaves had told her that much.

    Hannah,

I’ve been thinking that I needed to write this particular letter for some time but I haven’t been sure how to do it.

All I can think is that I wish that night hadn’t happened.

I know what August did is unforgivable. I’ve thought so many times about how you think you know your child, and then they do something that terrifies you. Something that opens a darkness.



I froze. The letter shook in my hands, my palms suddenly slick with sweat.

    I’m so sorry. For everything. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Every day I wonder if I did the right thing. I don’t know the answer to that question. It changes each time I ask it. Sometimes, I wish I could go back and do it all differently. There’s no going back, is there?

Do you remember when we use to go up to Wilke’s Pointe with stolen cider from the pub and lay on the rocks and talk about when we were older?

You are my dearest friend. My oldest friend.

Love,

Eloise





I read it again, over and over, each time searing like a burn.

What August did.

What August did.

What August did is unforgivable.

I only knew a few people on Saoirse who believed August was innocent back then. But when he and Eloise disappeared, leaving everything behind, it was enough to convince most of them that maybe he had killed Lily. That they wouldn’t have run away if he wasn’t guilty.

In the weeks after Lily’s death, I’d tried to make sense of it. I’d asked him more than once to take me through that night and every time he answered, August had given me the same story. He’d gone to work at the orchard and then he met Dutch at the lighthouse. Thinking of it now, I couldn’t quite hear his words. I couldn’t make out the clear image of the memory as he said it. He was at the lighthouse with Dutch. That was the only thing I knew.

But this letter sounded as if even Eloise knew something I didn’t. This letter sounded like…an admission.





Twenty-One


    FIVE MONTHS BEFORE THE FIRE


   AUGUST


The taste of blood was dry and cracked on my lips.

I walked up the dirt road, sidestepping the river of rainwater that rippled over the rocks. The cottage was dark when I came around the bend, and I thanked whatever God there was that Mom hadn’t waited up for me.

I lifted the gate latch slowly so it wouldn’t squeak and came up the path to the porch before I unzipped my jacket. The winter storm had blown in as soon as the sun set and I was soaked through from the walk. My clothes were dripping wet and I didn’t want to risk Mom hearing me, so I stepped on the heels of my boots, pulling them off and leaving them beside the front door.

I’d never had a key to our house because no one needed to lock their doors on Saoirse. That was the kind of bullshit that people said to pretend like it was safe here. I knew better.

I slipped inside, coming down the hallway to my room with light steps, and I relaxed when I saw that Mom’s door was closed and the lights were out. She was asleep.

My bedroom was dark except for the beam of moonlight coming through the window. I peeled off my T-shirt and let it drop to the floor, bending low before the dresser mirror. My shape surfaced in the darkness and I leaned into the light so that it hit one side of my face. The blood was dried down my chin, but it was nothing I couldn’t clean up and blame on orchard work.

I winced, pressing a fingertip to the cut on my lip. The dark purple ring that hung below my eye was another matter.

“Fuck,” I whispered. I’d have a hard time explaining that.

“August?” A small, sleepy voice sounded in the dark corner of my room and I jolted, hitting the dresser with my knee.