скачать книгу бесплатно
“Are we...good?”
She tensed at the question, too aware of how closely Burke stood. She could see every dark fleck in his eyes, and the way his lashes started out dark and then lightened toward the tips. Gavin’s eyelashes had been a dark brown the whole way through. She swallowed.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Burke shifted from one foot to the other, the action moving him just slightly away from her. It was all she could do to keep from leaning in his direction to bring him closer again.
He scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable.
“I just meant...I don’t want it to be weird for you, with me staying here. I know it’s where you and Gavin—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She crossed her arms over her chest, willing Burke to drop the conversation. She didn’t want to think about what his words meant. She didn’t want to relive a past that needed to stay buried.
Burke stopped talking when she interrupted him, but his eyes were intent on hers. She blinked, refusing to look away. Refusing to back down. She would pretend as though his presence didn’t affect her, that none of it touched her. She was a master of denying her emotions.
She’d had to be or her grief would have pulled her under a long time ago.
She stared him down until his features smoothed out, understanding darkening his eyes.
“Okay then.”
She gave a short nod and made to move past him. He blocked her way for a moment longer.
“This is only temporary, Erin. I promise.”
She didn’t react, and after another few seconds, he stepped aside to let her pass. As she brushed by him, she schooled her features to a blank slate so he couldn’t see the turmoil inside her.
* * *
AFTER HIS ENCOUNTER with Erin, Burke finished up a few more of the drywall repairs on the second floor. His chores eventually led him to the large windows overlooking the Moontide’s expansive backyard. He paused to stare out the window, admiring the gazebo that had been the showcase for so many weddings over the years.
When he and Tessa had first begun planning their wedding, she had suggested the Moontide as the venue. He had been adamant in his refusal, and when Allan had proposed holding the wedding at the Delphine, Burke had pushed Tessa in that direction. She’d broached the subject of the Moontide only once, asking why he seemed to have such bitter memories of the only real home he’d known after his parents’ death.
He’d been sharp in his response, snapping something about the Moontide and all it represented for him—family vacations that he’d lost, memories that had been stolen before they were made. Tessa, with her typical sweetness, had not taken his tone to heart but rather wrapped her arms around him and replied, “Then we’ll create new memories, enough for two lifetimes, to make up for the ones you never had.”
Her goodness shamed him. She’d been understanding, far more than she should have been, especially because his answer to her was only part of the truth. The Moontide represented not only the childhood that had been taken from him...but the woman he’d once loved.
Even though she’d chosen his brother over him.
He ground his teeth, conflicting emotions assaulting him. He missed Tessa. If she were here now, she’d find a way to lift his spirits without pushing him to share what had soured his mood. Tessa had a way of knowing when he just needed her to wrap her arms around him without speaking a word. He would miss having that in his life.
Thinking of Tessa prompted him to pull his phone out of his back pocket and check the screen. No missed calls. No new texts. A couple of email alerts but nothing urgent. He clicked into the screen and began typing a new message.
Tess, are you...
He stopped and deleted the last two words and started again.
Tess, I’m sorry for...
He stopped a second time but continued to stare at the screen until the light dimmed and the phone went dark. He’d just lost the woman who was supposed to be his wife. Shouldn’t he have something to say to her?
With a sigh, he pocketed the phone and looked out over the backyard once more. As his gaze swept the overgrown lawn, his eyes caught on a flicker of movement behind one of the white oak trees. He looked closer and noticed a small foot, moving back and forth, nearly hidden from view but just barely visible with the movement.
Even from this distance, he recognized Kitt’s sneaker. His nephew must have fled outside after he’d left him and Erin earlier.
Burke stood there for another minute, waiting to see if the little boy made any moves to come inside. When he didn’t, Burke decided he’d earned a break from his repairs and headed for the stairs so he could step outside and check on his nephew.
* * *
BURKE FOUND KITT in the same position he’d witnessed from the second floor windows. The little boy was hidden behind the trunk of one of the Moontide’s ancient oaks, his foot moving back and forth to the silent rhythm that had betrayed his position. He had a book in his lap, but he wasn’t reading. The day was warming up, with only a smattering of clouds in the sky. The rain from yesterday had dried up, and the ground was dry as Burke sat down beside his nephew.
“Hey,” he greeted.
Kitt didn’t respond, didn’t so much as look at Burke.
“I wanted to thank you for your help this morning,” Burke continued, unfazed by Kitt’s silence. “Why’d you run off? We were only halfway done with the drywall repairs.”
Kitt still said nothing. His silence was nearly palpable, his sadness even more so.
“Did your leaving have something to do with...your mom and me?”
Though Kitt didn’t speak, he shifted noticeably.
“Sorry, little man. Your mom and I, we...well, she had a good point. I should have been more careful with that knife.”
“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have touched it. Mom always tells me not to touch knives.”
The words came in such a rush that Burke suspected Kitt had been holding them in ever since Erin had confronted him earlier that morning.
“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Kitt mumbled, his voice so low that Burke had to lean in close to hear him. He smiled at Kitt’s concern.
“Who, me? Don’t worry about it. Your mom won’t stay mad for long.”
He didn’t know about that last part. There was a time when Erin wouldn’t have stayed mad at him. But a lot had changed since then, an ocean of silence and distance. It occurred to him, however, that maybe Erin needed him more than she let on. Not because of the friendship they’d once shared but because of what she’d lost.
What they’d all lost. Gavin.
If anyone knew what a grounding force Gavin had been, it was Burke. His older brother had held him up after the death of their parents. He’d stepped into the gap of loss and filled it as best he could. Though death had brought instability and grief, Gavin had been the one constant to see Burke through the hard times. Burke had taken that for granted, not only as a child but into adulthood. He’d been selfish in keeping his distance, assuming Gavin would always be there.
But in the end, the brother he’d idolized had been a mere mortal when death came calling. He sniffed, his eyes filling at the thought. He blinked away the tears, refusing to let Kitt see him cry. When his vision cleared, he saw his nephew was watching him.
“You think that’s true? About Mom not staying mad?”
He forced a grin. “Are you kidding? How can she stay mad at two of the most handsome guys in Findlay Roads?” He nudged Kitt, trying to draw a laugh. The most he got was the ghost of a smile.
They sat in silence for another couple of minutes. Kitt didn’t seem uncomfortable, but the sadness that constantly surrounded him lingered in the air between them. Burke tried to think of something else to say, words that could draw Kitt out of his shell.
“You asked me this morning about your dad, and stuff he did when we were kids.”
It wasn’t Burke’s first choice of conversation, but he found himself desperate to lighten Kitt’s mood. If that meant talking about the past, well, then, he’d give it a try.
“He loved to make people laugh,” Burke began, “and he could be a shameless prankster. For years, I thought he liked eating bugs.”
Kitt’s brows furrowed together. “Why?”
“Because he’d pretend to see a bug, like a fly or whatever, and he’d act like he swatted it or stomped on it to kill it, then he’d reach down, pick it up and pop it in his mouth.”
Kitt’s eyes went wide. “He really ate bugs?”
Burke smiled. “No. He usually had something else in his hand, like a raisin or a piece of food that just looked like a bug. And that’s what he’d eat. But he was so tricky with the sleight of hand that I didn’t catch on for a long time that he wasn’t really eating bugs.”
“What’s sleight of hand?” Kitt asked.
“Like when a magician pulls a quarter from your ear, but he didn’t really find it in your ear—it was in his hand all along.”
Kitt narrowed his eyes. “Show me.”
Burke laughed. “I don’t have a quarter on me just now, but I promise I’ll show you later.”
Kitt seemed satisfied with this. “So, what else?”
“What else?”
“What else did my dad used to do?”
“Oh, right. Um, well, a couple of times a year, he’d wake me up early on a Saturday and tell me we had to go to school.”
“But Saturday is a no-school day,” Kitt pointed out.
“I know, but your dad would always try to convince me it was a special day. Once, he said it was because we have snow days sometimes so we had to go to school on Saturdays to make up for it. I bought into it, and I’d end up dressed and ready to go before my mom finally realized what was going on and told me I could go back to bed. I was usually wide awake by then, which was exactly what Gavin wanted. Then he’d rope me into playing ball or riding our bikes or whatever.”
Burke fell silent, remembering how he’d felt, flying along on his bike beside his big brother. Once he was grown, he learned that most older brothers considered their siblings pests. Not Gavin. He’d always treated Burke like his best friend, even more so after their parents were gone. A painful lump lodged itself in his throat. He should have spent more time with his brother while he had the chance. Now he’d never have the opportunity again.
“Did you get mad at him?”
“Hmm?” Burke had to reorient himself to understand Kitt’s question.
“Did you get mad at him? For playing tricks on you?”
Burke thought about it. “Not really,” he softly admitted. “It might sound weird, but all his teasing made me feel, I don’t know, special. Like he did that stuff because he wanted to make me laugh. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Burke tried to find the right words so he could explain to Kitt that was just how his dad was. There was no malice in Gavin’s pranks. He did those things to lift people’s spirits. His brother had been one of the most bighearted people he’d ever known.
“No one laughs anymore, now that he’s gone,” Kitt said.
The words were like an arrow, straight through Burke’s heart. “It’s hard, losing someone you love. Your dad and I lost both our mom and dad. We were older than you when it happened though. It takes time, but I promise, Kitt, you will learn to laugh again.”
Kitt didn’t look convinced. “What about my mom?”
“Your mom?”
“Yeah, will she learn to laugh again, too?”
Burke frowned. He hadn’t noticed it, but now that Kitt brought it up, he realized Erin’s laughter had been a rare thing in the last year and a half that he’d been back in Findlay Roads. If Gavin had been here, that would have been his top priority.
Making Erin laugh again.
“One day, she will, Kitt. I promise.”
But nearly two whole years had passed since Gavin’s death. How long would it take for Erin to laugh again?
* * *
BURKE WAITED UNTIL after dinner to approach Erin. He volunteered to do the dishes while Aunt Lenora took Kitt into the living room. Erin helped finish tidying up a few things and then disappeared. Burke took his time, rinsing off dishes and loading them into the dishwasher, then wiping down the counters and table. When he felt everything was sufficiently in order, he went in search of Erin.
He found her curled up in an armchair on the inn’s veranda, staring out at the backyard. She didn’t even look up as he took the seat next to her.
He sat in silence, listening to the chirp of crickets and the distant sounds of the nearby bay. The air was tinged with damp, and there was the faint scent of burning wood in the air, probably from someone’s bonfire. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering many evenings much like this one, with him and Erin sitting in companionable silence. But then he remembered how long gone those days were, and he opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry about earlier today, letting Kitt handle the utility knife.”
She didn’t speak, but he caught the faintest shift in her posture, a flicker of interest at his apology.
“You were right, I need to be more careful.”
She relaxed, some of the stiffness leaving her shoulders, but she didn’t look at him. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Burke let silence fall for a few minutes before speaking again.
“You know, he said something to me today. Kitt did, I mean.”
She cocked her head in his direction without shifting to face him.
“He asked me if you were ever going to laugh again,” Burke said.
This statement finally drew her full attention. She turned to look at him.
“I didn’t realize it until he asked me that, but he’s right. You never laugh anymore.”
Erin winced. “There’s no timetable for grief. I can’t just will myself to laugh again.”
“I know, I know,” Burke hastened to reassure her, noting her slightly bitter tone. “But Aunt Lenora is concerned, too. She said you don’t get out enough.”
“What? Am I supposed to play the part of the merry widow?”
She was even more prickly than usual tonight. He wondered what had put her in such a foul mood. Maybe it was him. He knew she wasn’t comfortable with him staying here.
“Erin, I’m not trying to be critical. You’ve lost a lot, and no one expects you to just shake that off and be happy again. But for Kitt’s sake—” It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it the instant the words left his mouth.
