There You'll Find Me (26 page)

“Change it.” Beckett snapped up the remote and hastily switched the channel as my brother’s face smiled back at me on the TV. “Let’s watch something else, eh?”

“Turn it back,” I said. “Why did you change it?”

“How much more of that can you listen to?” He handed Liam the remote, then turned to me, his eyes searching. “There’s nothing new to hear.”

I shook my head as the unwanted tears pressed against my eyes.

“Will’s name.” I sniffed and blinked away the moisture. “I wanted to hear his name.”

“Dessert time!” Nora and Sean came bearing plates of their homemade tart.

“I’m going to take a walk.” The room closed in on me, and I struggled to catch my breath.

“But you just ran,” Nora said.

“I’ll be back. I need some air.” I grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair at the table and all but raced outside.

The night sky still had hours until complete darkness, and I walked in the dimming light, past the backyard fence, beyond the grove of trees, and into the meadow. I breathed the air, reveling in the lack of humidity like back home. I’d traded the smothering heat of Charleston for the chill of Abbeyglen.

God, when will the chill in my heart go away? I have a feeling even a hot Charleston summer couldn’t melt it down
.

I cut through the grass and walked until I found the castle ruin Erin had told me about. Little more than a stone cylinder now, it must’ve been a tower once upon a time. Pulling my jacket tighter around me, I stepped inside and ran my hand over the rocky wall. The vines wove in and out of cracks, defying gravity as they clung. How many years had this stood here?

At the sound of leaves crunching, I turned. And there was Beckett.

“Finley.”

Just one word. That was all he said. But I heard all the pity within it, and it made me want to rip down the tower stone by stone with my bare hands.

“I want to be alone.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against a deteriorating wall. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I swiped my eyes, pulling back fingers painted with watery mascara, and turned so he wouldn’t see. “There’s such evil in the world, isn’t there?”

“Yes. But goodness too.”

“Those men who killed Will and the children—they tore so many families apart. Families who will never be the same.”

“Ah, Flossie.” His arms came around me from behind and pulled me against his chest. His chin rested on my head as he held me tight.

“I have to find that cross in the picture. Everything’s wrong wihout it.”

“Fin, you know when we find it . . . your brother’s not going to be there.”

I closed my eyes against the pain. “I know.”

“And he’s not going to meet you in New York City. Whether you nail your audition or not, Will’s not coming back.”

The bottom dropped from the well of my tears, and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. With a coughing gasp, I gave into the sorrow that now filtered into my every breath.

Beckett spun me around and hugged me to him. His strong arms held tight with a mix of tenderness and strength as he whispered comforting words I could barely hear for my own crying.

Seconds, minutes, what seemed like hours passed before I could lift my head and brush the last of my tears away. Shame rolled through me. I had just blubbered all over one of the most famous boys in world, practically using his shirt for a Kleenex.

I stepped away and filled my lungs with a cleansing, chilled breath. “I had a tree house.” A bird flew overhead, as if returning to its loved ones before bedtime. “Will would call up to me like I was Rapunzel. He was so much older, but he always made the time. Both my brothers were good to me, but Will and I were different. He treated me like I was special.”

Beckett gave a crooked smile. “You are.”

I wanted to laugh at Beckett’s words, but I didn’t have the energy. “It’s weird to be where Will was. Walking his same steps, seeing the exact same things he did. I know what he thought about all of them—but that cross. It had to be in his journal for a reason.”

“Then we’ll find it.”

His gaze was so heavy on mine, I couldn’t look away. It held me in place, making me powerless to even blink. “Why are you here, Beckett?”

His voice was rough as the stones. “Something told me there was a damsel in need of saving.” He captured my hand and held it against his chest. His heart beat a steady tempo beneath my palm. “Maybe I’m just watching out for my assistant. Or maybe God put it on my mind to follow you.”

Nice to know the Lord spoke to one of us. “You know, I read my brother’s journal and I wish I had his absolute faith, his view of the world. He thought everything was beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Beckett stepped back. “Look around.”

“But then people go away.” I drew back my hand and hugged my arms against the dipping temperature. “Brothers die. Children disappear. War rages. It’s hard to watch the news and not question life . . . God . . . the point of it all.” I cleared my throat against a lump. “I watched the video footage of the explosion that killed my brother. The whole world did. How do you explain what I saw?”

“You doubt there’s a God?”

“No.” Thoughts tumbled in my head, and none of them seemed to make enough sense to even speak aloud. “But I don’t see him like I did as a little kid. He’s no longer the God of happy stories that came with stale Oreos and watered-down punch. I guess . . . I don’t know who he is.”

“Umm . . . His law is love, and his gospel is peace?”

I blinked my watery eyes. “Did you seriously just quote a Christmas carol?”

“I’m kind of new to this.” Beckett laughed, then scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe. “So last year we did this movie in Italy.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and studied a weed at his feet. “I was sightseeing on my own and walked into this beautiful old building. It was a church. I’ve never told a soul this, but . . . something seemed to just reach out to me there. I came back the next day. And the next after that. I borrowed one of the camera guy’s Bibles and started reading it. I still don’t have a lot of it figured out, but somehow I know it’s real. And I’m not through searching. I don’t have the answers to your questions. I just know God said to trust, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“That’s not good enough for me anymore.” I couldn’t believe I was debating faith. With a Hollywood prince. “I want answers. I want to understand this world again.”

Beckett walked to me and reached his hand over my head. He plucked a wildflower growing on a vine in the cracks, a violet bloom that hadn’t received the message that summer was gone. “Maybe you should stop going by what you feel.” He opened my hand and pressed the flower in my grip. “And start going by what you know is truth.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

From: [email protected] Subject: Bambino

Alex, congrats on the baby news. Things are great here. No, I’m not getting Beckett Rush’s autograph. I spend so much time practicing, I barely know the boy exists.

I
heard the O’Callaghan family rustling around downstairs on Sunday afternoon, getting ready for lunch. My stomach reminded me I had skipped breakfast to practice, then spent thirty minutes reading Will’s journal after that.

The sharp corners of the picture glued to the page lifted at the edges as if straining to break free. While the images were blurry, the colors were not. Above the ocean, rows of houses lined up together in sharp blues, greens, and yellows. They looked like confections, as if you could run your finger over them and draw back sugary icing. Beneath the photo Will had scrawled a verse, one I recognized from Psalms.

Lord, You light my lamp; my God illuminates my darkness.

As I read the rest of the words, I heard Will’s deep voice as if he were sitting next to me.

Lahinch is only about ten miles from Abbeyglen. On the Liscannor Bay, it’s a popular spot for surfers and golfers or just a guy in search of some good pub food. Went into McDougal’s Pub where I was told I could find the finest cup of tea and the crispiest cod. While it rains a lot, nothing can dim the shades of this town. Color is all around. I want to keep my eyes on the good. And not the dark clouds.

Words from an eighteen-year-old boy. Most guys his age were waxing poetic about girls and cars. But most guys didn’t grow up to be breakout reporters for CNN by the age of twenty-three.

“Finley?” Erin called from the steps seconds before she appeared. “Beckett’s here for you.”

“Why?” My host sister’s face was still drawn with gloom.

“Said you guys were going to Lahinch.”

Oh. I hadn’t really thought he’d been serious. Or that he’d even remember.

“Any word from Samuel?” I asked.

She nodded her red head. “He sent me a short text to say he couldn’t go to the dance with me.”

“Did he give you a reason why?”

“No.”

“Ask another boy. Show Samuel he can’t get you down.”

“I did. I e-mailed Patrick Sullivan just an hour ago. It’s the strangest thing.” Erin sat down on the edge of my bed, still in her skirt from church. “He said yes, and I got all excited. But then thirty minutes later he texted me back and said something had come up.” Erin looked at me, eyes wide. “What’s wrong with me?”

The question of every girl.

“Nothing.” The bed squeaked as I plopped down beside her. “Those boys should be paying you for the opportunity to be your date.”

“At this rate, I’m the one who’s going to have to cough up the money. I just don’t understand what I’ve done to make them turn me down. Patrick and I have been friends since we were in nappies. Our mothers sing in the choir together. He’s never had a girlfriend in his life, so it’s not like going with me to the dance would be some big threat to his reputation.”

“Erin, I don’t think this has anything to do with you. I think it all points to Beatrice.”

“That girl is a . . .
Bufo marinus
.”

“Did you just cuss in scientific terms?”

“She’s a toad.”

“Beatrice hates me, and she’s punishing you.” And I didn’t know what to do about it. “But we’ll fix it.”

“I told her I was going to St. Flanagan’s with a boy.”

“And you will.” I nudged a slouching Erin with my shoulder.

“You’ll have a date.”

“I guess I should pray about this. Then just let it go. Let God have it.”

“Right.” Assuming God wasn’t on his extended lunch break with her like he was with me.

“Girls!” Nora called from below.

“Go to Lahinch with me and Beckett.”

“No.” Erin stood and straightened her shoulders with resolve.

“I think I’m going to console myself by praying for a date. Is that sacrilegious?”

“God said love endures all things.”

Erin found her smile again as we walked down the stairs.

My eyes narrowed as I watched the boy in the living room talking to Sean and Nora. Dark hair straightened with a Chi. A flamboyant pink shirt and gray slacks. Shiny black shoes with a sweater tied over his back and a tilted fedora on his head.

I hoisted my purse onto my shoulder. “Did your Vegas act get cancelled?”

A dimple popped in his cheek. “The hair color washes out.”

I surveyed the outfit he’d chosen for his disguise. “The color is the least of your worries. Tell me you’re not carrying a purse too.”

He slapped his back pocket. “I had to draw a line somewhere.” Beckett held out my coat and helped me into it. “You look beautiful though.”

My heart soared like a bird before crash landing as I realized these were just practiced words he’d probably told every female he’d ever encountered.

With good-byes to the O’Callaghans, we walked outside to Beckett’s truck. He swung open the passenger-side door and took my hand. His fingers tightened on mine as his hard gaze swept over me and beyond my shoulder. Turning around, I saw the focus of his ire.