by A. L. Tyler
“Excellent.” Acton said with a smile. “The coat looks good on you. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. You’re not one of those religious nuts, are you?”
Ember shook her head, laughing. Acton held his out towards town, another calm smile gracing his lips.
“After you.”
Ember led the rest of the way to town. When they reached the bookstore, Acton held the door for her; he shook off the umbrella, closed it up, and then followed her in. As Ember explored the shelves, trailing her fingers over the spines of her childhood as she smiled and wanted to cry for all the times she had dreamed of this place, she almost missed Danielle Cassington.
As timeless as the books she kept, she was stationed behind the same counter that she had been years before. When Ember looked up and saw the chilled expression on her face, she frowned. Mrs. Cassington had let her borrow the books, but she didn’t seem to remember her anymore.
“Ember.” Mrs. Cassington said quickly; Ember immediately smiled in relief. Mrs. Cassington’s sharp grey eyes shifted to Acton as he walked up to stand next to Ember. “Mr. Knox.”
Ember had to stifle a laugh as she looked over. Acton only gave the shopkeeper a slight nod and a smile that neared sarcasm.
“Mr. Knox?” Ember said finally. “Seriously?”
Mrs. Cassington’s already cold expression soured further as Ember looked back to her in confusion. “Your family may own this island, Miss Gillespie, but the Knoxes own everyone and everything on it.”
Chapter 4
Ember frowned. “What?”
With a small smile, Acton took her by the arm, and nodded at Mrs. Cassington. “If you’ll excuse us, Dani.”
Danielle Cassington wadded up the towel she had been using to dust the shelves, and tossed it onto the countertop, muttering to herself as she slipped into the back room. “Fine with me. I don’t want my name mentioned, I don’t want any part…”
“Dani?” Ember said in a hushed laugh as Acton took her by the arm and led her down an aisle. “My family owns the island? Like owns it owns it?”
“Your mother owns the island.” Acton said as he lightly pushed her toward a chair. “And you either dress very poorly for an heiress, or she never intends for you to have any of it.”
Ember felt her jaw hanging open as she contemplated what he had said, but she didn’t have a response.
“She never told you.” Acton said impatiently.
“No.” Ember finally mustered. “She didn’t.”
Acton lowered himself to her eye level, smiling lightly. “That makes you angry.”
Ember tried to meet his gaze, but she was suddenly having trouble keeping her lips from trembling. Her mother said that she had moved to the middle of nowhere to get away from people, but she had obviously lied. If it was her island, then she was letting everyone else, all the people she claimed to hate, live here with her. Even as much as she hated all of them, she couldn't stand Ember.
Suddenly, it all made sense. Ember had always wondered where the money for her schooling and board came from, and it must have been from Tulukaruk. There would be taxes, or rent, or something; she had tried when she was younger to make the money run out on new clothes and books and fieldtrips, but the nun never said 'no'. There was always more money, and Gina had used every cent necessary to keep Ember away.
Sitting stark still and unable to speak, Ember felt the shaking in her arms first; then her stomach went to jelly, and she felt like she was going to throw up. Acton stepped away from her with a slightly disgusted look on his face.
"What is it now?" He asked.
The bookstore was spinning; Ember had never fainted before, but she was suddenly very glad that she was sitting down.
"She doesn't want me." She whispered as the lights flashed too bright and then burst into darkness. "She just...doesn't want me."
When Ember came to, all she could see was boxes and rafters. She furrowed her brow as she started to sit up; a hand landed on her chest.
Her eyes wandered up to find Acton’s face. He was sitting next to her, holding a paperback open in his other hand. “Where am I?”
“My mother’s bar.” Acton said, flipping another page. “Would you like a drink?”
Ember allowed her body to collapse back onto the floor. She raised her hand to her forehead, and then sat bolt upright. Her head snapped to look at Acton so quickly that she pulled a muscle. “What time is it?”
“After dark.” He said lightly. “I don’t think you care much, beyond that.”
Ember cringed; the doors were locked. If she wanted to go home, she was going to have to beg, and even then it was doubtful that anyone would let her in after the evening’s exchanges.
“They’ll let you in.” Acton said, his eyes never moving from the page. “Gina may hate you, but she’s not a monster. She would give a bed to any poor soul who came knocking.”
Shaking her head, Ember pulled her legs under her body to sit. “That’s just it, isn’t it? I’m not their family. I’m just…just…”
“A stranger.” Acton finished, turning another page.
Ember nodded at him; he still hadn’t looked at her, and she wondered if he was only still there because it was the right thing to do. Abandoning a girl who had passed out wasn’t something one could do and still feel right with oneself.
She stared at the floor, listening to the steady sliding of each page against the next.
“I should go.” She said finally, getting to her feet.
With a small sigh and a sardonic smile, Acton set his book on the box next to him. “Go where? You don’t have a home. You don’t have a family, or anywhere to go to.”
Ember looked around, and then clasped her hands in front of her; she forced them to her side when she had the unsettling thought that the only hand she had to hold any more was her own. She had to be strong now.
“I’ll leave the island.” She said bravely.
Acton’s smile only broadened. “And then?”
“I’ll finish school, and get a job, and an apartment.”
“And a cat?” Acton mocked. “Jesus, Ember, people are only people because of their stories. Families, and histories. You don’t want any of that?”
She held her hands out in the air, unsure what he wanted her to say. “I don’t have any of that.”
“But you want it.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“Of course they do.” Acton said, getting to his feet. “So why are you so willing to give up on it?”
“They don’t want me here.” Ember said with another shrug. “And she apparently owns the island, and she doesn’t want people around that she doesn’t like so…” Ember paused, and then looked up at Acton. “Wait. She hates you. Why do you get to live here?”
Acton leaned back against a wall, flicking open the lid on a box to pull out two green bottles. He twisted the cap off of one and handed it to Ember, and then gave a shrug. “First and foremost, hate is a strong word, and I don’t suppose your mother hates me more than anyone else who lives here. She definitely hates you more than she hates me.” He kicked some boxes around on the floor to create a space for them to sit, and then gestured Ember down onto a box. “Second, she does not now, and nor has she ever, owned the entire island. The Knoxes have been here longer, we own our plot, and we are joint owners of a lot of Main.”
Ember sniffed at the neck of the bottle.
“It’s beer.” Acton said with a frown. “Drink it. It will make your life easier.”
Ember eyed him with a flicker of anger, but took a gulp anyways.
Acton leaned back on his box, letting his body fill the space as he rested his head against the wall. “However, I suppose your mother could evict us, or worse, if she chose to. But she won’t, because she needs us.”
“Well.” Ember said bitterly. “That’s arrogant of you.”
“You’re a mean drunk.”
“I’m not drunk yet.”
Acton only raised
his eyebrows. “As much as she may hate me, my mother, or my brothers, the Knoxes run this town. We’re a necessary evil to your mother. So as long as we keep everyone in line, we get to stay. And as long as we stay, no one bothers Gina Gillespie in the little commune she’s made for her precious family.”
Ember sneered. “Yeah, precious. I feel so precious.”
“Precious is overrated.” Acton replied.
“So then what are you proposing?” She grunted.
He leaned forward again, and offered Ember the bottle he had in his hands. She looked down in confusion, and realized her own bottle was already empty; she didn’t feel drunk, but pushed the new bottled away in dismay.
“I propose that you embrace being the reject.” Acton explained slowly. “Come be a Knox for a while. I can assure you a good time, and in return, you’ll have a family here.”
“A family?” Ember said, incredulous. “The Knox family?”
Acton shrugged and nodded.
“And I would have to do what?” She blinked; the world was tilting. The alcohol was starting to take hold.
“Tolerate my ungainly appearance and company.” Acton said with a laugh. “I will arrange some outings, which you will attend and participate in. I will deliver you back to the Gillespie household, safely and with escort, every evening. Your participation is entirely voluntary, and you may decline any invitation you wish.”
Ember leaned against the stack of boxes next to her, trying to unfold all of the sentences as the alcohol made each one slip from her grasp. “I should go home.”
“So you’ll go with it?”
“Go with what?” She half-whined, laughing and shaking her head. “It sounds like dating. I don’t understand what you’re getting out of it…”
“It’s just a wish of mine, Ember. Like a birthday wish—I can’t tell you, or it might not come true. Will you help me get my wish, if I help you get your family?” Acton smiled genially. He reached out to take her hands, and slowly helped her to her feet. “You and I, we’re not worthy. It would pain your mother to think that the two of us were together, because it would be a threat to her tiny kingdom. It would mean that the two of us might stand to take it all away from her, and her precious Thalia, because she wants Thalia to have it all. You deserve your half.”
“My half?” Ember laughed as she stumbled in his arms towards the door. Acton grabbed the book on their way out, shoving it deep into one of his pockets. “Why should I do this?”
The rain outside had slowed to a cold drizzle; the mist was so fine that it seemed to sneak right through her clothes to land on the skin beneath.
“God damn—why is always wet here?” Ember spat. “Maybe I don’t want half of this. Why should I help you hurt my family?”
Acton turned her, holding her up by her shoulders as she swayed on her feet.
“You’ll help me because they aren’t your family.” He said earnestly. “I’m your friend now, and the Knoxes are your family. We want you, and you don’t know for a fact that anyone else ever will. The Gillespies won’t. You’ll help us because we are your family now, and because that’s what family does.”
Chapter 5
The trip home was a mess; despite Acton’s best efforts, Ember managed to slip and fall twice, covering herself in mud. At least the cold and the damp had sobered her enough to stand on the stoop, alone, when they arrived back at the house.
The misting rain was collecting on the leaves, eaves, and pines, and every so often a drip would drop with a splat to the forest floor. It made Ember wince and glance around her; even though she knew it was only rain, the sound was unnerving. It was like a hundred tiny fairies, snapping twigs and crunching leaves as they surrounded her in the dark. With the clouds blocking all the stars and the moon, the only light was cast from the one dim bulb above the door, and it only served to make Ember feel like she was under the interrogation lamp of the universe.
She only had to knock twice. When the door swung open, it was Gina standing on the other side.
“You’re going to wake up your sister.” She said. Her eyes had narrowed in annoyance, and her voice was stern. “You smell like beer.”
Ember shrugged and nodded.
“Thalia told you to be home by dark.”
Still standing in the rain, Ember once again nodded.
Gina looked her over, pausing on her wide, tired eyes. “You broke the rules. Good night, Ember.”
And she started to close the door. With a yelp, Ember lurched forward, shoving her body in the disappearing gap. She felt the heat from the house as it flowed past her and into the night.
“I’m sorry!” She squeaked; Gina hadn’t stepped back when Ember had forced her way between the door and the frame, and their faces were close. Ember could see the twitch in her mother’s left eye. “I meant to be back on time, but I ran into someone, and we were talking, and—“
Gina lowered her gaze. “Who?”
Ember paused, trying to figure if she should lie. Gina was waiting.
“Acton Knox.” Ember licked her lips and said a silent prayer.
Gina stared into Ember’s eyes, and blinked away a distant look into outright hostility as she stepped away from the door. “Get in this house. Stay away from Acton—you’re trouble, and he has enough of it on his own. I don’t want that kind of mess on my hands.”
As Gina held out her hand, pointing toward the stairs, Ember stood and peered through the door, looking for the trap. Like a shy animal, she eventually edged over the threshold, and bolted for escape up the stairs.
“Ember!”
She froze. She could feel Gina’s eyes boring into her back.
“Don’t knock on this door after dark again. Thalia needs her sleep, and it gives her nightmares.”
Ember sighed, turning around. “You can’t stop me from going out.”
Gina crossed her arms; the same distant look she’d had before was on her face. Her jaw hung slack for a moment, but then she pursed her lips and looked down at the floor.
Ember turned back to go up the stairs. She took three more steps.
“I’ll get you a key.” Gina finally said in a high whisper. “But you have to promise to use it. Don’t knock. I don’t want you going out after dark, but if you’re going to do it, you’re going to use that key to come back in every night. I want you to have a way to get inside this house, when you want to.”
Without turning or looking, Ember nodded. She went up and put her muddy clothes in the bathtub, and went to bed.
When the key appeared on her nightstand the next morning, she couldn’t bring herself to touch it.
Small and bronze, it sat there on the nightstand; Gina had attached it to a length of string, wound into a ball and laid neatly along the side. Ember stared at it as though it were a coiled snake about to strike.
In the morning chill, she looked around her room. It was darker than it should have been on account of the taped up window, but there was still enough light to see without flipping a switch. It was a small room, and Ember was nearly sure it wasn’t the one she had been in when she was a child; the memories were hazy, but she thought that she had shared a room with Thalia, and there surely wasn’t enough space in this room for two beds.
Ember pressed her eyes shut and concentrated. She could remember the nighttime routine—dinner was eaten, the table cleared, the dishes done, and then there was family time in the den. Nan would sit with the paper, and Ember would either read it over her shoulder or sit in the corner with a book. Gina would run a brush through Thalia’s hair, and then the two would sew clothing or plant potted seeds that would grow in the south-facing kitchen window until spring, when they were transplanted to the garden.
When it was time for bed, they went upstairs and brushed their teeth. They changed into their pajamas, Gina read them a story, and then tucked them in to bed, and sang them songs until they feel asleep.
Ember opened her eyes; she could remember the smell of Thalia’s hair as they laid i
n bed. She always slept with it in a braid, and it looked so much like a fancy braid that Ember often found it hard to keep from touching or smelling it. They had shared a bed when they were little.
Now, Thalia could hardly stand to be around her.
Ember looked back at the key on her nightstand, and her clothes strewn about the floor, and suddenly didn’t want it. It made her feel like she was falling into the sky, as through gravity had shut off. The key meant that she had no anchor anymore. She could leave when she wanted, and return when she wanted, if she wanted, because Gina wasn’t looking out for her anymore.
Refusing to touch the key, Ember slipped out of the bed, holding her comforter around her like a poorly-fitting winter jacket to keep the morning chill off of her skin. She picked up some clothes from the floor and went to the bathroom to shower, turning the water so hot that it made her skin pink and painful to touch. After too much hot, the cold felt good. It made it easier to change clothes.
With her hair still wet, she walked downstairs to breakfast. Thalia and Nan had been laughing about something, but Thalia’s smile vanished when she saw Ember standing at the end of the table.
“I told you to get home before dark,” she said.
“I know.” Ember paused. “I’m sorry.”
Thalia stared at her a moment longer, and then went back to eating her oatmeal. Nan was giving them both suspicious looks. The frown marks made deep trenches in the wrinkly skin on her face, from the height of her brow to the tip of her chin. Ember leaned to peek into the kitchen, and was about to ask where Gina was, when she spotted something outside the kitchen window.
“Is the back yard on fire?” She asked, squinting.
Thalia turned to look, and then shrugged. “Mom had some stuff to burn.”
“Stuff?” Ember asked, looking her sister in the eye.
Thalia shrugged again as she chewed on her oatmeal for a little too long. When she finally swallowed and opened her mouth, Nan cut her off.
“Old boxes from the shipments.” The ancient woman grunted, sending a small streamer of spittle to settle on her chin. A tiny half-bit of oatmeal sat right at the end of it, like an exclamation point. “She burns them—the boxes and the crates. We’ve got nowhere to put them, and they pile up in the side yard, and then the damn spiders start nesting in them.”
