This Might Hurt(98)

“We’ll take care of everything back home. I’ll come for you as soon as I can.”

Like a deer in headlights she stared, oblivious that she was transitioning from one reality to the next. For a moment I wondered if she knew. Was she onto me?

Then she straightened her back, claiming every inch of space that all six feet of her took up. “Thank you, Kit. For all of it.” She turned away.

You’re exactly the person Wisewood needs.

“It’s been an honor,” I said with a knot in my stomach. If she heard me, she didn’t acknowledge that she had. She moved slowly over the boulders, never turning back.

It took everything in my power not to call out to her. For Wisewood, I thought as I returned the ladder to the boat’s floor. For Wisewood, I chanted silently as I used an oar to push the boat from the boulders. For Wisewood, I reminded myself as I restarted the Hourglass’s engine.

Bile rising, I watched Teacher’s streaks of lustrous white hair disappear in the arms of the birch. The forest devoured her whole.

I drove away.

As I sped through crest after crest, tears freezing my eyes, the sense that I had forgotten something nagged at me. Halfway back to Wisewood I realized what it was.

My mother’s scarf.





47





Natalie


JANUARY 10, 2020


IT WAS YOU.

I want to believe Rebecca was the one who messed with my sweater, stole my phone, concocted my punishment in the forest. It has to have been her or Gordon or Raeanne.

Anyone but Kit.

I can tell by the way that Gordon meets my eye, unblinking and indignant, that he doesn’t know what happened to me last night. Raeanne isn’t smart enough to be the brains behind any operation. She’s a private, not a general. I want to sink to the thawing snow.

“Teacher was right, per usual,” Gordon says. “I would have protested an extended absence, but had I known she felt that unsafe, I’d have helped her plan a short-term getaway. She must have known that.”

How could you? I think. You left me in the woods to freeze to death.

“In seven years, I’ve never gone this long without speaking to her. The first week we made do here. By the second, I sensed something was off, though Kit had warned me Teacher could be gone for months. I made a couple calls and began taking the boat out. I visited other islands and the mainland, asking around. No one has seen her.”

You knew taking my phone would make me sick, the memory it would dredge up.

Gordon removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. “This morning I was patrolling and found this.” He pulls the scarf from my shock-frozen hands. “On a buoy.”

I clear my throat, find my voice. “She could’ve lost it in a gust of wind. While Kit was driving her.”

A pained expression crosses Gordon’s face. “The buoy was six miles in the opposite direction of Rockland.”

My mouth falls open. He pinches the skin at his throat, then pushes past me. “I have to find Ms. Collins.”

I follow him, unable to make the facts compute. It’s possible Rebecca’s with her family, and they’re shielding her from Gordon so she doesn’t get pulled back in. (I would do the same given the chance.) Or Rebecca could have grown tired of Wisewood and had Kit cover for her. Or maybe there’s been an accident, one that Kit is scared of getting caught and punished for. Could my sister have come up with this convoluted cover story, fooling everyone for weeks?

Gordon lifts a fist to Kit’s door. I stand close behind him. “No touching.” I back away a few inches.

We both still when we hear raised voices coming from inside.

“You need to get out of here today,” Kit says.

“I would’ve gladly left weeks ago,” a man says. “But I’m not leaving without you.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times—I’m not going anywhere. I swear to God, if you don’t go now, I’ll tell Gordon who you are.”

Gordon pounds on the door. The argument ceases immediately. Seconds later the door swings open.

“Who exactly would that be, Jeremiah?” Gordon says.

Kit’s eyes blaze like a cornered animal’s. Beneath the fear I see exhaustion, sorrow, a need for a hug. My sister couldn’t have ordered Raeanne to leave me in the woods; she must have had something less severe in mind, and Raeanne got carried away. The Kit I know wouldn’t be able to stare at my bloodied, swollen lip, knowing she’s responsible for it. The Kit I know would’ve drowned me in apologies by now.

The man she’s arguing with is the burly one who confronted Gordon when I first got to Wisewood. Both he and Kit assume stony expressions, refuse to say a word.

Gordon shoves the scarf toward Kit. “I found this on a buoy east of Wisewood.” She gawks at the fabric. When she doesn’t say anything, he adds, “Ohio is west of here, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“This was Mom’s,” she says to me as if I wouldn’t remember, as if we’re alone in the cabin. My chest tightens. She tries to take the scarf from Gordon.

He yanks it back. “How do you explain this turning up so far from Rockland?”

Kit peers at him. “What are you suggesting?”

Gordon’s face turns aneurysm scarlet. “I called Teacher’s sister in Ohio. They haven’t heard from her in years.”