As the Light Fades (ARC)

by Catherine West

  “Are you done?” She tossed the clicker between her hands.

  “Your grandparents are coming to visit.” He sat back and waited for the explosion.

  It didn’t come.

  She simply stared through soulful eyes that told him nothing. “Why?”

  Why, indeed.

  The simple word sang the song he’d memorized years ago. But he’d never been able to figure out answers to the questions it asked. “I’m not real sure, Mia.”

  “That’s lame. How can you not know? What’d they say?”

  “Not much. Your grandmother called a few days ago, said they needed to get away, that they were coming to the island.”

  “When?” Her eyes got a bit rounder.

  “Tomorrow.” Matt breathed it out and willed the tension in his temples to dissipate. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you,” he rushed on before she started in. “With the news about your mom, you were upset enough already so . . . I figured I’d wait.”

  “Do they know about what happened, that she went to jail? Do they know I’m here?”

  “They know.” Matt rubbed his chin. “They want to meet you.”

  “After fifteen years? Whatever.” She stated the obvious with lack of emotion that really didn’t surprise him. “My mom told me they don’t really talk to you either. What’d you do that was so bad?”

  “More like what I didn’t do.” Matt leaned back and focused on the photos that sat on the fireplace mantel. Nan’s photos that he’d found packed in one of the boxes he’d opened the first weekend back here.

  Pictures that told stories of happier times. Him and Rachel goofing around on the beach, playing tag with the waves. Photos of him with Patrick sailing in their first regatta. The four of them, Rachel, Nan, Pop, and him, arms around each other, grinning like fools at something Pop had probably said just before the picture was taken.

  He missed his grandparents something fierce. Wished Mia had known them. Wished hers were half as good as his had been. But wishes were as useless as a camera without film.

  “I guess you’re gonna tell me to behave.”

  Mia’s voice pulled him back to the moment, and Matt blinked at her. Then he chuckled, his mood lifting a little. “Would it do any good?”

  “Probs not.” She cracked a wad of gum and shot him what could have passed as a wink. “Well, between this and Miss Cranky Pants moving in, my weekend just got real exciting.”

  “Let’s try out a little respect, okay? Is that too much to ask?”

  “I dunno. You don’t exactly have the best manners either, even if you are a Brahmin from Beacon Hill.”

  “Ha.” He smiled at her use of the word most of his buddies used to describe Boston’s elite, and wagged a finger. “None of that around your grandparents.”

  Her grin told him he could count on it. “So what’s the deal with you and them? I know my mom got pregnant with me and they kicked her out. What happened with you?”

  “It’s kind of complicated.”

  “No duh. Everything with you is complicated.” She tossed him a rare smile. “You know, if you’d lighten up once in a while, you might actually get a girl to stick around for more than a date or two.”

  Heat crept up the back of his neck, but she had a point. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get a date. He just didn’t much care how they went. “Since when is my love life any of your business?”

  “What love life?”

  “True enough.” Matt chuckled, worked the kinks out of his neck, and nodded. “Look, about my folks. We don’t tend to agree on much, Mia. My father is an a—ah, let’s just say, opinionated and . . . well, it is what it is. I have no idea why they’re coming, and I’m not exactly over the moon about it. So fasten your seatbelt, kid. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

  “Can’t wait.” She yawned, stretched her arms above her head, and shivered a bit as a bolt of lightning flashed across the window. “Dang storms. Power’s not gonna go out is it?”

  “We have candles and battery-powered lights if it does.”

  “I hate the dark.”

  “Never would have guessed.” He grinned, and she stuck her tongue out. Mia slept with the light on all night. He had the Nantucket Energy bills to prove it.

  “I got my reasons.”

  “It’s okay, Mia.” He said it slow, gentle, and a flicker of sadness moved into her eyes.

  “Uncle Matt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He doesn’t know where I am, does he?”

  A thudding began in his chest, fear sneaking up around him before he had a chance to recognize it. “Who?”

  “Joe.” She shrugged and looked away, but he saw her shivering.

  Matt moved onto the couch and put his hands on her drawn up knees before she could protest. “Mia. Look at me.”

  Tear-filled eyes turned his way. “What?” she whispered, the word trembling off her tongue.

  Matt thumbed a tear from her cheek. He would still give her the world if he could. If she’d let him. Once upon a time, he’d told her dreams came true. Told her she was a princess, that she could be whatever she wanted to be and she’d be great at it.

  He’d known what had been taken from her not long after they had shown up at his apartment after leaving Arizona. He let them stay of course. What else could he do? Mia was shut down, angry, tearful, and confused. He’d tried to talk to Rachel about his niece, but she refused to get into it with him. Said they were going to make a fresh start, the both of them. Mia was fine.

  His niece was about as far from fine as her drug-addicted mother.

  It had been obvious Rachel was still using the minute she walked in the door. He saw it in her eyes, her skin, her thin frame and shaky hands. All the promises she’d made over the years, every time they’d talked and she swore she was clean . . . all lies. He’d been so angry he almost kicked them out then and there. But he couldn’t. And she made more promises she never intended to keep.

  Things were good for a while. Until they weren’t. The first night Rachel left, no explanation, gone God knows where, doing God knows what, Matt realized he was on his own. And Mia woke up screaming. The moment he’d flicked on the bedroom light, rushed to her side and tried to offer the comfort of a hug, he’d known.

  He rubbed the spot on his cheek where she’d slapped him that night, and the memory of her thrashing in the bed, struggling to get away before she realized it was him, choked him as though it had happened yesterday.

  Matt still couldn’t fathom what kind of monster would want to touch a child. Countless sleepless nights over the past year brought no clarity. Much as he tried to avoid dwelling on it, much as Mia tried to hide from it, the ugly truth lived with them and made its presence known when he was least expecting it.

  If he ever laid eyes on Joe Giovanni again, God forgive him, the man was as good as dead.

  Matt met Mia’s troubled gaze, pushed her hair back a bit so he could see her face. “Nobody’s going to hurt you here. You’re safe. I promise.”

  “Do you really have to work nights at that security job?”

  Matt mentally kicked himself. Why hadn’t he thought this through? Of course Mia wouldn’t want to be on her own at night. Even with Miss Carlisle in the coach house, she’d still be alone in the house. Maybe his parents being here would actually be a good thing.

  “For now, I guess. I don’t know. I’ll have to see what I can do, Mia.” Maybe he’d install an alarm system in the main house when they put in the one for the coach house.

  She wiped her eyes and almost smiled. “I know it bugs you when you have to get up nights. Sorry. It’s just . . .”

  “It’s okay.” He knew. Matt’s eyes landed on a sketch pad half hidden under the blanket. He pulled it out without asking permission. “Where’d you get this?”

  “It’s mine.” Mia grabbed for it too quickly, and he held it out of reach.

  “Looks like one of mine. I bought a couple the other day. One went missing.” He flipped it open and his
heart stilled. The first few pages were filled with pencil sketches. So perfect and intricate in every detail. The beach. The house. There was even one of him, snapping a shot with his camera. He met Mia’s eyes and smiled. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

  “Whatever. They’re just dumb drawings.” She made another grab for the book, but he held it tight against his chest.

  “Are you kidding me? Mia, these are amazing. How long have you been drawing like this?”

  “Since forever.” Her cheeks pinked a little. Matt handed back the book.

  “Why aren’t you taking art at school?”

  She shrugged, running a finger over the spirals that held the pages together.

  “Because I’m teaching it?” He waited, half dreading the answer.

  “No. Not cause you’re teaching it.” Mia sniffed and glanced away. “I’m just . . . I don’t know. I’m not that good.”

  Why couldn’t she see the talent she had? The shading, perspective, light, everything was spot on. Matt shook his head. “I think those drawings are pretty great, Mia. And I’d love to have you in my class. Seriously. Will you think about it?”

  “Maybe.” A shutter banged against the side of the house and she jumped. Tears flooded her eyes again. “I wish I wasn’t so freaking scared of everything,” she whispered.

  “Come on.” Matt pulled her into his arms and held tight, waiting for the moment she would push away and tell him she wasn’t a kid anymore. But she sank against him with a cry that almost shouted relief and finally let go of the barrage of emotion she’d been wrestling with long before the moment he’d walked into the room of the precinct the day Rachel had been arrested.

  “Yeah. That’s good. You let that out.” He patted her back, stroked her head, and let her get it out. She’d probably claim to hate him again in five minutes, but for right now, he’d take this moment.

  nine

  “I don’t understand why she couldn’t be here to meet us.” Phyllis Stone wiped down the kitchen counter, folded the tablecloth she’d insisted they use on the patio table where he’d suggested they have a late lunch.

  It was going on four in the afternoon, his parents had only been here a couple hours, and Matt was exhausted. “As I explained, Mia has an after-school job at the art gallery. She’ll be here for dinner.” He’d gone a bit overboard—bought a tenderloin, a small quiche for Mia, a couple of expensive bottles of wine, and even made a chocolate cake last night. One day he might get rid of the inherent need to please his parents, but today apparently wasn’t going to be that day.

  “Why does she need an afterschool job at her age?” Phyllis sniffed and smoothed her blond hair, cut in a neat bob, the style she’d worn all his life and probably most of hers. Matt sighed and stretched out his legs under the kitchen table. His father had retreated upstairs for a nap. Matt couldn’t remember his father ever taking a nap. They both seemed tense, uncharacteristically subdued, and strangely preoccupied.

  “I had an afterschool job at her age,” he reminded her. He wouldn’t tell her the real reason Mia was working at the gallery.

  She laughed and put a hand behind her neck. “Stocking shelves at that awful corner store. I remember. You didn’t need it.”

  Oh, yes he did.

  Gerald Casey, Patrick’s maternal grandfather, went out of his way to make sure the neighborhood boys stayed out of trouble. When he wasn’t coaching baseball, he was behind the counter of his popular variety store, giving Matt and Patrick every job under the sun. They made twenty bucks a week and spent most of it on candy and baseball cards. But there were life lessons learned under the watchful eye of the crusty Vietnam vet, and Matt soon realized that if you wanted to get anywhere in this world, you needed to work at it. Life was not as easy as his parents made it seem. Most people couldn’t just write checks to make their problems go away.

  “Is there any tea?” She had her back to him, searching the cupboards.

  “I’ll get it. You take a load off.” Matt rose, found the box of Darjeeling he’d purchased yesterday, her favorite, and went about making it. He grabbed a soda from the fridge for himself, found a mug that didn’t have a chip in it, and soon sat at the table opposite his mother.

  He studied her face for answers. She looked a little tired, less pulled together than usual. “So what’s up with this impromptu visit?” He couldn’t stifle the question another minute. He’d been on edge since they arrived, and now he had to know.

  “Do we need a reason to visit our son?”

  “Uh, when visiting your son is something you never do, yeah, it would seem so.”

  She stirred a little sugar into her tea and caught him watching her. She blinked and quickly looked away, but Matt swore he caught a flash of moisture in her eyes. His heart beat a little faster, and he fiddled with the leather strap of his watch. “You okay, Ma?”

  “I’d be better if you’d speak the way you were brought up to.” She took a sip, her expression neutral again. He couldn’t stop a grin. His relationship with the O’Donohue family would always rankle her. Yet they’d done more for him and Rachel than his parents ever had.

  But even their kindness couldn’t save Rachel in the end.

  “You, uh, you and Dad, you’re not getting divorced or anything are you?” Not that it would shock him. His parents had never displayed open affection toward each other, and they rarely traveled together, but he’d always liked to believe they were happy in their own way.

  Surprise widened her eyes. “Why would you think that?”

  Matt shrugged. He probably didn’t need to expound on his reasons. “Dad looks tired.” It had been months since he’d seen them, but both his parents looked like they’d aged. His gut hadn’t stopped churning since he watched them step off the ferry. Aside from stilted conversation over lunch, which Matt carried most of, neither of them had said much.

  “We’re not getting any younger.” She flashed a smile and sipped her tea. “Smells wonderful in here, Matthew. Is that a cake I spy over there? Chocolate ganache? Your father’s favorite, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Changing the subject. One of her favorite tactics when she didn’t like the way a conversation was going. Matt shrugged and wound his thumbs together. She wasn’t going to be forthcoming, that much was clear. He could continue his interrogation, but the shadows under her eyes made him zip it. “Yeah, well. Thought we’d have a nice dinner. Which reminds me, I should get the vegetables peeled.” He pushed to his feet, eager to be free of the frustration he felt whenever he tried to talk to his mother.

  Her sigh said she felt the same. “Perhaps I’ll take a walk on the beach then.”

  “Put on a jacket. Wind’s come up.” She wouldn’t offer to help with the cooking. She’d never cooked a day in her life, and they’d always counted that a very good thing.

  A couple hours later, Matt began to panic. Dinner was ready. His parents were waiting.

  And Mia was late.

  Part of him wondered if she’d show up at all.

  Matt checked his watch for the fourth time. The three of them sat in the living room, his mother toying with her glass of chardonnay, Dad draining his second scotch. It was going to be a long night.

  Just as he was about to try her cell again, the front door flew open. Mia burst into the room, Elizabeth Carlisle hovering behind her looking a little frazzled.

  “Don’t start. I know I’m late! The stupid bus broke down!” Mia dropped her backpack to the floor and bent to untie the laces of her clunky boots. Matt inhaled, slowly got to his feet, and glanced at his parents.

  They sat rigid in their seats. His mother took a generous sip and placed her glass on the side table, smoothed down her gray slacks, and stared at Mia with a tight smile. Dad also put down his glass, adjusted black-framed glasses, and leaned forward slightly, his head tipped the way it did when he wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how.

  Matt had half-expected him to appear in his usual professor attire of bow-tie and tweeds, and
had been relieved to see his father adopting a slightly more casual mode of corduroys and open-necked starched shirt, classic light blue. He now ran a finger under the collar of his shirt, his eyes fixed on his granddaughter.

  “Sorry to intrude.” Miss Carlisle side-stepped Mia, obviously aware of the awkward moment. In fact, she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. Matt could relate. “I saw Mia walking home, so I offered a ride. And could I just drop off a few things this evening? I’ll be quick.”

  Matt stared at her wide, questioning eyes in silence. Lucid thought returned in a slow trickle, and he gave his head a shake. “Oh, sure.”

  His parents were on their feet now, waiting expectantly. Matt glanced from them to her and caught the bemused look she flashed him. Way to come across as a total idiot.

  “Uh, Mom, Dad. This is Elizabeth Carlisle. She’s renting the coach house.” Had he told them he’d rented the place out? From the startled expression on his mother’s face, that’d be a no.

  “Harrison Stone.” Dad stepped forward with his congenial smile that always made Matt a tad uncomfortable. Mom took her turn, and, fortunately, didn’t try to initiate conversation.

  “Pleasure to meet you both. Well, I’ll let myself out. Enjoy your evening.” She nodded in his direction, then neatly extricated herself from the tension-filled room.

  A little air left his lungs. Matt wished he could follow her, offer to help. He’d dropped the key and her copy of the signed lease over to the gallery yesterday, so he didn’t have that excuse. And he couldn’t leave Mia anyway. The poor kid looked ready to hurl.

  Today she was dressed more appropriately, her jeans newish and not ripped, and she wore a white blouse with a black vest overtop. Her makeup wasn’t too overdone. He vaguely wondered if Evy had asked her to tone it down. Matt made a mental note to thank the woman.

  Still, she was just a kid, and she had to be feeling the weight of his parents’ stares as much as he was. There weren’t many things worse than being placed under Harrison Stone’s microscope.

  Mia shuffled closer to him, chewed on a fingernail, and waited. Matt put an arm around her shoulders. Didn’t know why, really, but he suddenly felt a fierce desire to protect her. To his surprise, she didn’t shrug him off.