As the Light Fades (ARC)

by Catherine West

  Her sister shrugged and went back to work on her burger. “I always wanted to be like you,” she said after a while, luminous eyes glowing under the hanging lantern. “You were my big sister. I idolized you. Didn’t you know that?”

  Oh, for goodness sake. Liz sniffed, tears forming before she could do a thing about it. “Don’t be silly.”

  Lynette arched a brow and took another bite of her burger. “I’m not being silly, I’m being honest. I hated that you didn’t like me.”

  “Lynnie.” Okay, she was really going to lose it. Were they actually going to have this conversation here, in the seediest bar on Nantucket, with Hagerman leering at them from across the counter? “I never hated you. Never.”

  “Oh my gosh, don’t cry about it. Want some fries?” Her sister had a knack for changing tack at the strangest of times.

  Liz smiled and nodded. “Thanks. But really, I never hated you. I might have found you annoying, but . . .”

  Lynette leaned in a little, serious. “Do you know how I was always afraid to speak my mind? Afraid of what people might think of me?”

  “Yes.” Liz swallowed the lump in her throat, not sure she liked this direction either.

  “Well, I’m not afraid anymore.” She smiled like it was the simplest thing in the world. “We’re given clarity of thought and the ability to speak truth in love for a purpose. It took a while for that to sink in, but it finally did. So here’s what I know. For whatever reason, you’ve always been jealous of me. I don’t know whether it was because I was the baby or you thought I got extra attention or what, and I honestly don’t care. What I do care about is the relationship we have going forward. We’re sisters, and that’s never going to change, but I’d like us to be friends too. Do you think that would be possible?”

  Ho. Ly. Cow. Liz scrunched a paper napkin and waited until she trusted speech. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know I was horrible to you. I was a terrible sister. You have every right to hate me.”

  “Liz.” Lynette reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Stop that. Of course I don’t hate you. I never did. I couldn’t. I love you. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I want us to move on from all that.”

  Liz nodded, her mouth dry, unable to form words. She didn’t deserve this. Whatever it was.

  Grace. The word floated into her mind on a whisper.

  Yes, that’s exactly what it was.

  Grace. The power of forgiveness and the gift of healing.

  “Thank you for that, Lynnie.” She wiped her eyes and smiled. “And yes, I’d like us to be friends. I say it’s high time.”

  “Done.” Lynette gave Liz’s hand another squeeze and let go. “Now spill it. I want to know exactly how long you’ve been in love with Matthew Stone. Does he know?”

  “What?” Liz sputtered through her straw. Fizz shot up her nose and made her cough. “I am not in love with Matthew Stone!”

  “Oh, come on.” Lynette laughed. “It’s written all over your face.”

  “That African sun has addled your brain, sister.”

  Lynette wagged a finger. “I know what I see when you talk about him. And his niece. Think you’ve got a bit of a soft spot for her too, don’t you? Come on Liz, honestly, who am I going to tell?”

  “Um, the entire world? You’re the worst at keeping secrets!”

  “That’s not true. I knew about Mom and Mr. Cooper for ages and I never said a word.”

  “You were blocking it out!” Liz didn’t bother keeping her voice down. The place was empty. “You couldn’t remember that they had an affair for years. That doesn’t count.”

  “Okay, fine.” Lynette rolled her eyes. “But I’m right about this. Aren’t I?”

  “Lynnie . . .” Liz gave a long exhale. She may as well. She let go a little tension, gave up good sense, and proceeded to tell her sister everything.

  thirty

  DRAKE

  She’s here again. The gifted one. When I saw her in the doorway of the dayroom, looking around, looking half afraid of being kicked out, I thought they were all coming. But the newspaper in my lap says it’s Saturday. And those kids don’t come on Saturday. So I don’t know why she’s here. Don’t suppose it matters much.

  “Hey, Mr. Carlisle.” She stands in front of my perch in the window seat. A nice sunny spot where the warmth wakes my tired bones.

  “Hey yourself.”

  “It’s Mia. Remember?”

  “Mia. How could I forget?” I smile and she smirks. She knows better by now. Smart as a whip, this one. But I see a restlessness in her eyes today, churning like a stormy sea. Like she’s carrying something too heavy but doesn’t have a place to put it down.

  “Are you going to stay?” I ask because she’s rocking back and forth, like she might bolt at any moment. And I’d rather she didn’t.

  “Okay.” She pushes her hair behind her ears, revealing too many piercings to count. Glory, what kids do to themselves these days. Though I suppose if I had the luxury of youth again, I might consider an earring.

  “Your hair is different.” I don’t know why I say this. What was it like before?

  “Yeah. Got rid of the pink. Going back to my natural color.”

  “Suits you.”

  “Thanks.” She fumbles in a backpack and pulls out a couple of sketchpads and pencils. Hands one to me. “Wanna just draw?”

  I give a slow nod and take an HB pencil from her hand. “That sounds delightful.”

  She makes herself at home beside me. We draw for a while. I don’t know how long. Time means nothing to me these days. Could be minutes, could be an hour. Every now and then she sniffs and wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. But she doesn’t speak.

  A memory sparks; a young kid, maybe about her age, sitting at the piano, playing until he couldn’t anymore and had to stop. Had to give those overwhelming feelings their freedom. Another one, the girl with long blond hair and blue eyes, she would join me in the upstairs studio, her face all tight, secrets hidden so deep I knew I’d never pry them from her. But secrets were always welcome in that sacred space. And so we’d paint in silence until the tears came.

  Losing the emotion to the art.

  That’s what I called it. Finding that place within, digging as deep as necessary until all that pain surfaces.

  The great release was always worth the suffering.

  “Shade, there.” I point to the part of the tree she’s missed, and she mutters something under her breath. The trembling in her hand tells me all I need to know. She’s getting close. “What are those, sun showers?”

  “Sunflowers.” She sniffs again and puts her pencil down. Her sigh is weighted and when she finally looks at me, I see all she’s trying so hard to stuff down. “My mother loves sunflowers.”

  And we’re there.

  Her slender shoulders start to shake and she gulps down a sob.

  I take her sketchpad and mine and place them and the pencils on the seat beside me. Then I put my arm around her and she leans against my chest. I pat her shoulder and can’t think of a thing to say, but maybe that’s okay.

  “You know how sometimes life just sucks no matter what you do?” Her voice gets lost in my sweater and the words aren’t clear, but I nod anyhow.

  “Sure.”

  “I finally talked to my mom this morning. And she was nice. And now . . .” She lifts her head and stares at me. She doesn’t have to say another word.

  “You’re scared.”

  ___________

  Mia got off the bus at the stop closest to their house, shivered in the cold, and shoved her hands in her coat pockets. She’d forgotten her gloves. Left the house in a hurry so she could get to the nursing home, hadn’t told them where she was going.

  Uncle Matt had come into her room around nine that morning, phone in hand. Said she had to talk to her mom, they didn’t have a choice. The social worker was there with her mother. The look on his face said it all. It wasn’t fair how they were being intimi
dated, but what could she do?

  Mom made the same old promises, and Mia had listened and half-heartedly agreed. She couldn’t really remember now what she’d said. Her brain was still mush from that dumb therapist’s appointment yesterday. Which hadn’t been all bad.

  Uncle Matt was right. The lady had been nice. Said Mia could call her by her first name if she wanted. Christa. They talked some about her mom. What were the worst things about growing up with an addict? What were the best things about her mom? Stupid stuff like that. Christa asked if Mia ever intentionally hurt herself, and she hadn’t known what to say. So she’d stayed quiet. Christa said anything Mia told her would be kept between them—unless she was having thoughts of suicide. Then she’d be obligated to share that information.

  Mia didn’t want to kill herself.

  She’d thought about it. Once or twice, before they moved back to Boston. But not anymore. Christa talked about cutting. About how it was an addiction. No duh. She suggested that if it was something Mia struggled with, to try to find something to do instead that would take her mind off the need to cut. Asked her if she liked to sing or dance or draw. Mia admitted that art was her passion and Christa’s eyes lit. “Do that then. Do that until you can’t think of anything else except the creation in front of you.”

  So this morning, after that phone call, she’d hopped on the bus and gone to see Drake. That’s how she thought of him, though she’d never call him anything but Mr. Carlisle. It had helped some, but she still felt like running upstairs to the bathroom, cutting. Maybe she’d go over to Wyldewood and play with the kids or see if the dogs needed to go for a walk. Or maybe . . .

  “Excuse me?”

  A man she didn’t recognize approached from the other side of the road as she was about to turn into their driveway. Maybe a tourist. But they didn’t get many in November. “You lost?”

  “I think so.” He smiled and Mia stiffened. Dude gave her the creeps. He looked like some movie star, almost too good-looking. And he had an accent, British maybe. “Actually I’m looking for a friend’s house. I thought it was around here somewhere. Elizabeth Carlisle?”

  Mia felt the first few flakes of snow fall on her face. A Jeep crested the hill. Uncle Matt. “Never heard of her.”

  “Oh. That’s a shame. I suppose I’m completely turned around. I’ll keep looking then. Thank you.” He strolled off in the opposite direction. Mia’s heart pounded as she jogged toward the house. She waited by the garage while her uncle parked and got out.

  “Did you see that dude? Blond hair, really creepy looking? He was hanging around here when I got off the bus and—”

  Uncle Matt reached her in several strides and put his hands on her shoulders. “Slow down. Take a breath.” She did and he exhaled. “First off, where the heck did you go? I’ve been looking all over the island for you!”

  Mia stared at her sneakers, then met his frantic gaze. “I went to see Mr. Carlisle.”

  “You what?” Confusion skirted his brow.

  “To draw. I just needed to . . . never mind. Did you see that guy though?”

  “What guy?”

  “Oh my gosh.” She sucked her teeth. “Are you deaf? I said there was this guy hanging around the bushes over there. He asked if I knew where Liz lived. I’m pretty sure he knew already though.”

  Uncle Matt’s eyes got big and he glanced all around. “What did this guy look like?”

  “Blond. Creepy. I already told you.”

  “Did he have an accent?”

  “Yeah. Like British or something. You know him?”

  “No.” He shook his head, his eyes telling her more than he probably meant to.

  “What do you know, Uncle Matt?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about.” He fished out his phone. “Go in the house and lock the door.”

  “What?”

  “On second thought, get in the car. Your grandparents are out.” He held the phone up to his ear. “Come on, pick up. Hey, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this message. Please.”

  “Did you just call Liz?” Mia couldn’t stop a grin. Sure she was freaked, but this was way too intriguing.

  “Did this guy say anything else?” They got in the car and he gunned the engine. “You’re sure he asked for Elizabeth?”

  “Yes. He said he was a bit lost and looking for a friend’s house. Then he asked if I knew Elizabeth Carlisle.”

  He let go a word she’d never heard him use before.

  “Dude.”

  He flashed her a look as they pulled onto the main road. “Shut it.”

  Mia snorted. “Well, this is fun.” She clicked her belt into place and slapped her hands on her knees. “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t have a clue,” he muttered.

  Mia nodded. “Good plan.”

  “Was Elizabeth working today? Is she at the gallery?” They were heading toward town, so Mia hoped so. Otherwise Uncle Matt was gonna have a coronary.

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember. Maybe?”

  “Think, Mia! Was she working or not?”

  She clenched her jaw and stared out the window. “Sure. I think so.”

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and shot her a side look. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s not the first time you’ve yelled at me.”

  He gave a brief chuckle. “Sorry for yelling. But that’s not what I meant. Do you want to talk about your mom?”

  “What’s to talk about? We’ll go see her over Thanksgiving like you said, because we have to, then we’ll see that nothing has changed. We’ll come back here and life goes on.”

  His phone buzzed and he grabbed it at once. “Thank God.” He pressed the button and pulled over to the side of the road. Of course. Mia sighed and reached for her own phone, pretending to scan it so it wouldn’t be totally obvious she was listening to his every word.

  “You’re at the gallery? Okay. At noon?” Uncle Matt glanced at his watch. “No, don’t leave. We’re on the way there now. What? Oh, me and Mia. What? Yeah, that thing we talked about. Thought we could do it this afternoon. Yeah?” His smile was goofy and Mia snorted. “All right. See you soon.”

  “Oh man.” She couldn’t hold in a giggle as he pulled back onto the road.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You’re so totally crazy about that chick.”

  “Mia.” He sighed then fell silent.

  “Well. I didn’t say that was a bad thing. Geez. So what’s with the dude?”

  Uncle Matt scratched his head and slowed at a set of lights. “I think it’s her ex.”

  Okay, that wasn’t good. “Does she know he’s here?”

  “I doubt it. Listen, Mia . . .” He hesitated as they approached Main. “From what Elizabeth has told me, this is not a nice guy. I’m not sure what he wants, and I don’t want to scare her. So just . . . go along with this afternoon and don’t say anything to her. I need to talk to her, and I will, just not yet.”

  “You’re so weird.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that a few times.” They parked near the gallery and got out. Uncle Matt grabbed her hand. “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay? Because you didn’t say much after your appointment last night, and I worry.”

  Mia tried to smile, but really, she just wanted to cry. She felt like that a lot lately and she hated it. “I’m fine. Leave it.” She pulled her hand away and walked into the gallery. Grown-ups were too bizarre. Maybe she’d call Chris and see if he wanted to tag along on this super exciting adventure they were apparently going on.

  ___________

  The four of them had lunch in town. Uncle Matt was surprisingly chill around Chris, thank goodness. And she kept her mouth shut, though it was hard because, honestly, if some creep was after Liz, didn’t she have a right to know that? But Uncle Matt would handle it. Thursday night made more sense now. He’d been wide awake when he’d come into her room after her nightmare. Hadn’t even gotten into sweats and the t-shirt he usually slept in. A
nd at three in the morning that was a little odd. When she settled down and pretended to be asleep, she’d seen him standing at her window for a long time. Later, when she’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, she saw the light on in his Jeep. And he was sitting in it.

  She smothered a smile and finished her veggie wrap. He was something special all right.

  “So, I thought we’d go for a drive.” Uncle Matt pulled on gloves as they headed back to the Jeep.

  “Drive where?” Mia finished her coke. “I have homework.”

  He stared. “You’d rather do homework than hang out with me?” His hand went to his heart and he staggered back.

  “Come on, Mia. A little fresh air won’t hurt you.” Liz held out a set of keys. “You and Chris can take my car and drive behind us. How about that?”

  “Can I drive?” she asked. It was worth a shot.

  “No!” They all said it, even Chris.

  Mia shrugged. “What?”

  “Your learner’s test is next week. After that, sure.” Chris took the keys from Liz and gave Mia a wink that set her cheeks on fire. Good grief.

  They followed Uncle Matt and Liz through town and out into what Mia liked to call cow country. “Where is he going?” Chris wanted to know. “And how sweet is this car? Gotta be from the ´60’s, right?”

  “It’s about to fall apart,” Mia grumbled. “We’ll probably get stuck on the side of the road.”

  “Ever the optimist.” He grinned and adjusted the air vents. “Not much heat coming out of there.” He fiddled with a few knobs and eventually gave up. Mia listened to the radio and tried not to think about the creep who might be staking out their house this very moment.

  “So are you going to tell me what happened with your mom?” Chris finally asked. “Your text said you talked to her, but that was it.”

  Mia chewed on a thumbnail, stopped, and shoved her hands under her legs. Another habit she was trying to break. “Basically, she was all apologetic. Wished she could see me more. Says she’s got a new job someplace. I can’t remember what, but I doubt it’s anything fun. I have to go to Boston for Thanksgiving.”