Spells for Forgetting(72)

Bernard Keller had agreed to handle the paperwork for the house once I had the deed in order, and my bag was packed and ready. My flight back to Portland was booked, and I had a ticket for the six o’clock ferry. If I went to the pub, it wouldn’t just be Emery there waiting for me. I’d have to do the one thing I should have done fourteen years ago: say goodbye. Not the knock-on-the-door-on-my-way-to-the-ferry goodbye. A real one.

I picked up my phone, dropping it in my pocket.

A knot coiled in my stomach as soon as I tossed the ticket into the trash can. It would have been easier to leave and be gone when the island woke. But I wanted to see her one more time. I always wanted to see her.

I snatched the keys up from the counter and started for the door. It was becoming too familiar, being in the house. I didn’t feel misplaced inside it anymore, and I didn’t like that feeling.

The woods were already alive with the sounds of night. The road was dark and the moon was hidden by the thick cloud cover, but there was finally a break in the rain. I could name the occupants of every house I passed, each of them illuminated by fireplaces or lamplight. Beneath those roofs was at least one person I could have killed in that fire. I’d been thinking about that a lot since I’d come back. And there was nothing that haunted me more than knowing what that single choice had cost.

My mom wasn’t the real reason I left. Neither was Emery. If I stayed, I’d have to face what I’d done. Noah Blackwood may not have died, but I still had his blood on my hands, and I lived with it every day.

That night, I could smell the smoke the whole walk home, and only then did it really begin to hit me what I’d done. There was a color to the sky even though it was late at night. Like an orange glow reflecting off the haze. It cast the road and everything else in an eerie light, but it was the silence that struck me most. Everything was so quiet. Much too quiet.

I’d spent the hours at the lighthouse, where the sea crashed so loudly onto the rocks below that I hadn’t heard the helicopters. In my mind, the orchard was finally gone. Wiped from reality like a smudge on a window. I’d watched the water foam white in the darkness for as long as I could stand it, and then I’d started the walk home, knowing I’d find my mother crushed by what I’d done. But every bit of power my grandfather held was in that orchard. Without it, he was nothing.

If I wasn’t going to get what I wanted, then neither would he.

I was too young and too stupid to think about everyone else as I stood up there on the deck of the lighthouse. What would happen to the people who worked at the orchard. What would happen to the town. It wasn’t until that moment when I smelled the smoke on the walk back to the cottage that those thoughts began to glow like embers.

Headlights appeared in the trees ahead, pulling me from the memory, and I moved to the shoulder of the road. The sound of a rattling engine grew louder as it came around the curve, and as it got closer, the brakes squealed. I stopped, lifting a hand to shield my eyes from the glare of the lights, but after a moment, it still hadn’t moved. The truck sat there idling and I looked around me, to the trees. There wasn’t a gate or a drive, just the woods.

I turned my back to the truck, finding my phone in my pocket and holding it at my side. The last time I’d crossed paths with someone on this island in the middle of the night, he’d beaten the hell out of me. But as I turned the phone in my hand, a sickening thought wormed its way into my mind. Even if I were lucky enough to get service, there was no one to call.

The driver’s-side door opened and boots hit the ground before it slammed closed. I walked toward the sound, trying to make out the face. It was the blond hair that gave him away.

“Dutch?” I couldn’t see him until he stepped past the hood of the truck.

“You told her.”

His voice cut through the darkness and I instantly let out a heavy breath, letting the phone slide back into my jacket.

“Yeah, I did.”

He laughed and the sound was uneven. It was only then that I realized he was drunk. His head tipped back just a little too far, the soles of his boots dragging a little too much. “Of course you did,” he muttered.

“She asked me, and I told her.”

“Same selfish bastard you’ve always been.” He flung a hand at me.

“You’re wasted, Dutch. Go home.”

He propped himself up with one hand on the side of the truck clumsily, shaking his head. “I knew the minute you came back that this would happen. That you’d find a way to fuck everything up.” He laughed. “Nothing changes. After everything I’ve done for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to lie for me. In fact, you didn’t even give me a choice. And we both know you didn’t do it for me.”

He took three steps toward me, taking hold of my jacket and wrenching me toward him. “Fuck you, August!”

I shoved him off.

“Where were you when she had to take care of Noah? Huh?”

I swallowed down the nausea rising in my throat.

“Where the fuck were you when she buried Hannah? You weren’t here. I was.” He fumed. “But everyone wants you, right? That’s how it’s always been.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You think I’m an idiot? Lily was in love with you, you asshole.”

“You’re not an idiot. Which is why I don’t believe for a second that you just happened to not go to Washington State. And then just happened to get with Emery. You were after her the second I left. You forget that I know you, Dutch. Lily wanted me, fine. I didn’t want her. But you always wanted Emery. You were using Lily the same way she was using you, so don’t act like it broke your fucking heart.”