The Lighthouse Witches(23)

I was taken aback. “Well, I did . . .”

“OK.”

“Did you think I had an ulterior motive?”

“No, no,” he said, bending to clean his trowel. He cleared his throat. “I just figured you were running from something, that’s all.”

I tried to tell myself that he was joking, but his words had somehow peeled back the layer I’d worked so hard to create, digging at the truth beneath it. Out here, I’d almost succeeded in pushing away the reasons I’d dragged my daughters from their beds in the middle of the night and driven nonstop to the Highlands of Scotland.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I need to . . .”

“Something wrong?”

I didn’t finish my sentence. I pushed open the door of the lighthouse and ran out into the rain.





LUNA, 2021



I

“Morning,” a voice says from the doorway of their room in the B&B. Ethan, followed by the smell of coffee. He peeks around the door of the bathroom. “Brought you breakfast.”

“Thanks.”

Luna washes her hands and gives a long yawn as she heads back into the bedroom. Ethan sets his haul on the bedside table: a croissant, a decaf coffee, and a tub of porridge with a small pot of honey and a plastic spoon.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

She shrugs, her mouth full of hot porridge. She rarely sleeps well when she’s pregnant.

He sits down next to her. She can tell he’s been churning the Clover situation over in his mind. “She does look like your sister,” he says with resignation. “The girl in the hospital.”

In her mind’s eye she sees him awake at dawn, scrolling through the Facebook page she set up for Clover. A page he’s seen a hundred times, but which he needs to check now to figure out what the deal is with this kid that Luna claims to be her sister.

“Look, I don’t want this to come between us,” he says anxiously, moving closer. He rests his hand carefully, slowly, on hers. “If you say she’s Clover, then . . . fine, I believe you. OK?”

She can tell he’s lying, but it’s out of kindness, or maybe an effort to worm his way back into her good graces. This is his compromise—a willingness to go along with her, even though he doesn’t understand. There is a long silence between them, and she knows he’s waiting for a response. When she looks at his hand on hers she feels her heart stirring. His warm, broad hands have always made her feel safe, comforted. And seen.

So why did she say no? Why does she still shudder at the thought of marrying him, being bound to him, despite knowing she still loves him?

They head to the hospital to see Clover. It feels like a dream, winding through the hospital corridors to find her sister. And then the moment Luna sees her again, sitting upright in the bed. Gianni the giraffe tucked in beside her and color returned to her cheeks. Still a child.

Luna feels a rush of emotion at the sight of her. Stunning familiarity, and yet disappointment. She had hoped, stupidly, to find a woman there instead of a little girl.

“Hi, Luna,” Clover says brightly.

“Hello,” Luna replies, glancing self-consciously at Ethan.

“Did you and your giraffe sleep well?” he asks.

Clover looks up warily. Someone has washed her hair, and a tray of cleared bowls and plates nearby shows she’s just finished breakfast.

“She perked up a fair bit after you left,” a nurse says, pouring her a cup of water from a jug. “Didn’t you?”

Clover takes the cup of water, her eyes darting cautiously to Luna. Luna sits on the bed next to her, absorbing the sight of her again. Physically, the girl’s likeness to Clover is uncanny. But Luna is aware, painfully aware, of how desperate she is for this to be Clover. For the search to be over, for the two halves of her life to lace together into a perfect whole once and for all.

“Morning,” a voice says, and Luna turns to see Eilidh approaching with a wide smile. Beside her is another woman, who isn’t smiling. She’s tall with short black hair and a hard face, a document folder tucked under one arm and her hands tightly clasped. She fixes Luna with an unyielding stare, until Luna looks away.

“How are you today, sweetheart?” Eilidh asks Clover brightly. “You’re looking better already, now that your sister’s here.”

Clover plucks Gianni from beneath the blanket and holds him tight. Eilidh turns to the woman beside her and says, “That’s the toy she remembered.” She nods at Luna. ‘The one you brought for her.”

Luna nods, understanding now the point Eilidh is making—that the toy is proof.

She turns to the woman with the hard face. “This is my colleague, Shannon Young. She wants to have a wee chat, if that’s OK. Just to sort things out before Clover’s discharged.”

Luna follows Eilidh and Shannon as they look for “somewhere quiet to chat,” and her stomach is in knots. The presence of the other social worker doesn’t bode well.

They find a small office in a side room and arrange three chairs in a tight triangle.

“Nothing to worry about,” Eilidh says as they sit down. She glances at Shannon, then at Luna. “We just have to fill in some paperwork before we let Clover go. Obviously we’re glad you’ve been reunited, but we need to take some information from you.”