Spells for Forgetting(52)

My hand pressed to my mouth, my pulse skipping unevenly as I looked down the hallway, to the front door. I’d been standing right there with it in my hand when I saw the glow of the flames across the road. I’d dropped the blanket and ran and…

I got back to my feet and found the flashlight in the kitchen drawer before I pulled the door back open. It hit the wall with a crash as the wind poured into the house, and I went out on the porch, searching. The beam of white light moved over the wooden slats in a jittery sweep before finding the steps. Then the yard. I followed the stone path all the way to the gate at the road and when I reached it, I turned around, looking at the house.

The windows were lit, the porch light swinging in the wind. The door was open, just like it had been when I came back from August’s minutes ago.

But somewhere between the moment I saw the fire and the moment I came back through the gate, it vanished.

The letter was gone.





Twenty-Nine


    AUGUST


I wasn’t going to take the alley this time.

Main Street was busy. The last of the season’s tourists filled the walks, bundled in their parkas and their hats with bags of apples on their shoulders. They’d taken the early ferry, headed to the island for the orchard, and the bakery, and the beautiful views of the sound.

I’d spent eighteen years on Saoirse. Long enough to know it was all bullshit.

The smell of smoke still clung to my clothes, my hands blackened with the remnants of the fire. But the thing that had turned my guts standing there in the dark wasn’t the burning truck. It was Emery.

She had every right to hate me. It made things easier if she did. But the sound of her voice when she said that I left her had been a knife between my ribs. It was true. All of it.

The boats anchored on the dock rocked in the wind, masts tipping like metronomes as I passed. Just beyond the harbor, there was a line of people streaming out of the pub. I followed it, pushing open the door. Noah would be swamped with the weekend breakfast rush, but I knew what else I’d find inside.

Jakob Blackwood.

“Hey!” The man at the front of the line threw his hands into the air, but I ignored him, heading straight for the bar.

Jake sat hunched on his usual stool over a steaming mug of coffee, and I thought for a moment how pathetic it was that the man had had a regular stool for that many years. Every day was the same on this island.

Noah saw me first, abandoning the cup and saucer in his hands to come around the counter. He walked straight toward me, opening his mouth with a warning, but I didn’t take my eyes off of Jake.

I pulled the rusted door handle from the pocket of my jacket and dropped it onto the bar. It clattered sharply, making Jake jump, and he turned on his stool with wide eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” His coffee sloshed from the cup.

Around us, Noah’s patrons stopped mid-bite to watch.

I jerked my chin at the door handle. “This was you, right?”

His brows pulled together before he picked it up, inspecting it. “What the hell is it?”

Noah stepped in front of us, blocking the view of the tables along the bar.

“Someone set the truck on fire last night,” I said, watching him carefully.

His gaze lifted again, meeting mine. “What?”

“Last night”— I spoke more slowly—“someone set the truck in the drive on fire.”

Noah looked between us warily. “All right, maybe we should take this to the back,” he rasped.

I fixed my stare at Jake. “No. I want to hear him say it.”

“This is the first I’m hearing about it.” He spat, shoving the handle into my chest.

“You think I don’t remember how things work around here?” I took a step toward him. “When people don’t fall in line, they’re made to.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled.

“I told you I’m not leaving until I bury my mom’s ashes, and I meant it. You can burn the whole fucking house down if you want.”

Jake slid off the stool, standing eye to eye with me. “If you’re accusing me of something, then you’d better go ahead and say it.”

“I don’t have to.” I scoffed. “Everyone in this town knows what you are. I know what you are.” Before he could say another word, I took hold of his jacket. “You’re still the guy who beat up a kid because you couldn’t deal with the fact that you can’t do your fucking job.” I leaned in closer. “But I’m not a kid anymore, Jake.” I let him go.

Noah studied him. From the look on his face, that was one of Jake’s transgressions he didn’t know about.

To me, Noah had always been Emery’s dad, someone I felt like I had to convince that I was good enough. Jake had been something else. Not quite a father and not quite a friend. But in the end, he was just beating the shit out of me like my grandfather did.

When Jake didn’t deny it, Noah looked to me. “All right, I think it’s probably time for you to get home, August.”

Jake was Noah’s brother, and even if the two of them weren’t cut from the same cloth, Noah had had a lot of practice cleaning up whatever messes Jake made. Seeing the two of them there, side by side, I couldn’t help but think about my mom. How they’d stood on the other side of the line from her, too.