The Seacrest (26 page)

“You’re welcome. Now, you lay back and rest. I’m going to read to you, okay?”

“I guess,” I said, with a lackluster tone. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“You wouldn’t see your brother. There’s nobody else to… I mean…I was the only one who…”

I stared at her. “I have no one left, except my grandfather. And he’s somewhere out in the ocean. I have no way to contact him.”

 “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think about it. I just meant, someone had to keep an eye on you, or they might’ve put you in the psych ward for trauma victims. That’s what I heard them talking about. I just figured you’d rather be here. With a friend.”

I looked at Cora, who’d been a student in my class and with whom I’d had a few pizzas and beers since we started working together on her nonexistent art skills. She was a nice girl. Comforting. Easy to be with. Sort of a friend, sort of a student.

I leaned forward, my head in my hands. “How’d you hear about it all the way here in Providence?”

 “I have a cousin in Brewster. She knew you in high school, believe it or not. She called me. We’d talked about you before”

“You did?” My thoughts came slowly, my brain filled with fuzz and unable to focus. “Why?”

She loosed a fluttery laugh. “Oh, no real reason. Just because I knew you were from the same town.”

I wondered about her now. Saw a flush creep up her neck to her cheeks. Cripes. The girl had a crush on me. I sure as hell wasn’t ready for that.

I tried to stand, but my head swam and I lost my balance.

“Whoa, just wait a minute now. Let me help you.”

I put a hand on her shoulder to steady myself. “Thanks.”

I sat back down on the bed, looking for the first time into her worried brown eyes. She seemed to care, to honestly care. For a minute, I wondered if she was trying to win a passing grade in her class, then I shook the awful thought from my head.
Not nice, Finn.

I had to admit the human contact was pleasant. And if she hadn’t stepped up to offer to watch me, I might’ve ended up, like she said, in some hospital ward.

I wasn’t crazy.

I was simply crazy with grief.

There’s a difference, right?

Cora settled me back on the bed, plumping up the pillows and covering me with a blanket. She pulled up a chair and opened a book.

I noted with pleasure it was
To Kill a Mockingbird,
by Harper Lee. Nodding toward the book, I said, “One of my favorites.”

She smiled. “I got it from your bookshelf, so I figured you loved it if you kept it all these years.”

Flushing, I said. “Oh. I thought it looked familiar. But I’m kind of in a daze, to tell the truth. I can’t think straight.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ve got you covered.” She started to read.

I watched her bright eyes, cute mouth, neat teeth. She articulated well and even did Jem, Scout, and Dill’s voices in soft Southern accents. It was pleasant, and even though every few minutes the stabbing pain of reality tried to shred me inside, I managed to be distracted for a while.

Cora read to me for the next half hour, until I fell into a nightmare-filled sleep, where Mayella’s alcoholic father, Bob Ewell, set fire to my family’s home, and Scout patted my arm, saying it would be okay.

PART III

Redemption and Forgiveness

Chapter 59

June 4th, 2013

4:30 P.M.

W
hen we arrived at Blueberry Hill, I let Ace out for a romp in the fields, following him through the rows, planning the tasks for the next day. There was pruning, mowing, fertilizing, weeding to do. Fences to repair. Dead trees to cut up and drag out of the way.

I thought back to my past with Cora as we tromped through the blueberry bushes and high grass. She and I had become more than friends the summer of the fire, and although when I looked back on it, I felt a bit guilty for taking someone into my life for convenience and comfort more than for passion and heart-thumping love, I’d been grateful for her kindness at a time when there was nobody left who cared about me. It had felt right at the time. And we were married two years later, one year after my beloved grandfather died at sea. That had been another blow to endure, but I had such precious memories our times together, I clung to them and they helped me through the toughest days. 

At first we’d lived with her cousin in Brewster—my hometown—after she graduated, and before long we both accepted positions as live-in help at The Seacrest.

I sighed, wondering how a man could be expected to endure so many losses in one life. But endure I had, and now I needed to look forward.

After walking for an hour, we headed back inside. Tired now, I opened a cold beer and brought a bag of chips upstairs to the bedroom where Jax’s computer blinked at me in the late afternoon sun.

What had he said to Cora about me, and vice versa?

I settled in front of the PC and clicked over to the email account Libby and I discovered earlier. There they were. Hundreds of them.

I tried not to think of Libby and the last time she’d been here.

Would that incredible, sensual lovemaking session in the shower be the last time I’d ever touch her? The last time I’d make love to her? Would she avoid me the rest of my life, until I was a decrepit old man? Would I wizen away to a bitter old creature who avoided people and lived alone with his dog?

I mentally shook myself.

No. I won’t let it happen.

I’m tired of being sad, angry, and bitter. I’m sick of being the victim. No more. I’m taking charge.

Turning my attention to the emails, I scrolled down to the oldest I could find. It was from Jax to Cora, dated two years ago.

Hello, Cora.

It was good to bump into you in the market this morning. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to reach out to Finn for years, and maybe together we can make it happen. Thanks for offering to help, and I’d like to take you up on that coffee tomorrow morning. Eight-thirty at the bagel shop?

Jax

The reply email had been courteous and polite, but in my heart I knew the reason Cora had wanted to connect with Jax was to get me hooked back into the family fortune. She’d badgered me about it for years. It had been our biggest trigger for fights, and although she pretended to be concerned for our brotherly relationship, I knew better.

I scrolled down a few pages to an email entitled, “The fire.”

Dear Jax,

Thanks for dinner the other night. I think I’m getting a much better picture of how this rift occurred between you two. Frankly, I can’t tell Finn I’ve been seeing you, he would absolutely flip out. He’d toss me to the curb, and it would be all over. I keep gently trying to convince him to take your calls, but he refuses.

What really surprised me was your take on the night of the fire. I swear, he is convinced you were to blame. I was shocked to find you thought the same of him. You’re being much more gallant about it, I must say. Wanting to help him when you believe it was his fault – that is very humane. Thanks for being there for Finn. Maybe someday you will get through to him.

-Cora

The emails continued, referencing meetings and discussions focused on me. Gradually, the topics seemed to broaden, brushing on politics, movies, food, and books. I opened one entitled, “Last night,” from Jax.

My dear Cora,

I can’t tell you how much last night meant to me. I know it was wrong, but I couldn't stop myself. You are so beautiful, so damned sexy. I’ve wanted you since I met you that first day in the grocery store, although I fought the urges for a whole month out of respect for my brother.

I feel terrible about betraying him this way, but something tells me it’s fate. You and I were meant for each other.

When can I see you again?

- Jax

 My heart thumped hard when I read this one, and the next, and the next. The letters became more personal, filled with sex talk and terms of endearment. It had only taken him one month to seduce her, and by six months they’d been talking about how to break it to me.

Why hadn’t they? Why had they kept it so quiet for two whole years?

I wasn’t sure. Maybe Jax didn’t want to make it permanent, knowing his penchant for numerous affairs. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to share his fortune with her? Maybe she still felt too guilty to shatter me one more time?

I read through the rest of the emails until ten that night, absorbing the feelings of concern Jax expressed for me that conflicted with his passion for Cora.

Maybe he really had cared about me in the beginning. Maybe he’d actually been reaching out to comfort and help me. If I’d listened, I might have realized that he believed the fire was my fault, not his.

Now I had to find out for sure. Too tired to worry about dinner, not to mention that I finished two more beers and the whole bag of chips, I turned off the monitor, brushed my teeth, and headed for bed. Tomorrow, I’d go down to the fire department and see what I could find out.

And maybe I’d try to stop by The Seacrest on the way back.

Chapter 60

June 5th, 2013

8:20 A.M.

I
pulled up beside the fire department building early the next morning. They had one of their big rigs outside, and one lone firefighter was busy washing and polishing it. I hoped it was just a routine job, and not after having to put out another house fire like the one that killed my parents and sister so long ago.

The fireman looked up from his job and sauntered over to me. “Morning.”

“Looking good,” I said, motioning toward the truck. “That’s some wax job.”

He grinned. “Thanks. It’s a good day’s work, that’s for sure.”

“I’m Finn McGraw, by the way.” We shook.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said. “I’m Mick O’Toole.”

He looked about my age, and I figured he was too young to have been on call the night of the fire. But it couldn’t hurt to ask. “Do you by any chance remember the fire at Blueberry Hill ten years ago?”

“Hell, yeah.” He nodded vigorously. “Worst one in twenty-five years. Can’t ever forget that one.”

“Were you there?” I said, thinking he looked too young.

His face turned solemn. “I was. My first year in the department.”

I hesitated. Had he seen me go berserk that night? Maybe that’s why he remembered me. I felt embarrassed, but tried to shake it off. “Do you know how it started?”

He looked surprised. “Well, sure.” With a quizzical glance, he added, “Don’t you?”

I sighed and spit out the words. “I always thought it was from a cigarette smoldering in the couch.”

He cocked his head. “Really? What made you think that?”

“I heard one of the fireman say something about a cigarette,” I said quietly. “That night, you know? While I sat in the ambulance.”

A look of sympathy flooded his face. “Maybe it was one of the first thoughts they had. Could have been idle chatter, too.”

“My brother had just started smoking. He did it late at night in the living room when my parents and sister were sleeping. I told him it was dangerous. He used to fall asleep on the couch, you know. I caught him a few times with a cigarette still burning in his fingers. I used to yell at him about it.”

“That so?” he said. He started polishing the truck again.

“There’s more, right?”

“Well,” he glanced back toward the station house. “I probably should have you ask the chief. I’m not sure it’s proper for me to tell folks about the findings.”

I reached out and touched his arm. “Please. If I’m wrong, I need to know.” Fear shuddered through me. What if I
hadn’t
shut those fireplace doors properly? What if it had been my fault?

Mick straightened, stretched his back. “Okay. I guess it would be okay. It is a matter of public record, if you know where to search.”

I stood, taut and expectant.

He lowered his voice. “I heard the fire started in the upstairs, in the bathroom. Electrical.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“That’s what the investigation came up with. A wiring problem.”

“Electrical?” I repeated.

“Yep.”

The years tumbled into place now. All those times Jax tried to see me in the hospital and at home. The phone calls. The letters I’d torn up and thrown away without reading. The hurt in his eyes when I avoided him at the market, briskly walking away when I ran into him.

“Oh my God.” I swayed toward him.

Mick reached out to steady me. “Whoa, there. Wanna sit down inside?”

I shrugged him off. “No. No, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the information, but I need to go.” I started to walk back to the Jeep.

“McGraw,” he said. “I’m really sorry about your family. It was a rotten deal.”

“It was,” I agreed. “And thanks.”

Could it be true?

Jax didn’t kill my parents and Eva?

It had to be. This firefighter had no reason to lie or make it up.

I had to face it.

All those years of hating my brother for something he didn’t do…all that wasted time.

If I hadn’t been such a hard-hearted bastard, I might have had a relationship with him. I might not have driven Cora into his arms. They might not have died that night.

And I probably wouldn't have reconnected with Libby, either.

Was it all fate? Meant to be?