by Nina Lane
“But we never had a chance to talk about it. Do you ever think about it?”
“Why? So I can go insane wondering what I could have done differently?”
“No.” I press my hands to my eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
“Nothing is the matter with you.” Cole approaches and bends to press his forehead against mine. “This is why—”
His voice breaks off abruptly. My chest constricts.
—I wanted you to leave.
He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Maybe he’d been right all along.
No. If I’d left, we never would have found us again. Or rather, this new tentative version of us.
After slipping his hand under my chin, he lifts my face to look at him. Though his eyes are gentle, brackets of tension line his mouth.
“Josie, you’ve told me so many times you came back to do something good.” He strokes his hand over my hair. “I beg you not to let this change that for you. Please.”
I lean forward and press my forehead against his abdomen. Despite the hallucinations, it’s true that I’m beginning to find light here again. And I feel like the same thing is happening for both Cole and Vanessa too.
“I won’t.” I slip my arms around his waist and hug him. “I’m okay.”
“You’re extraordinary.” He returns my embrace. “Now give me a couple of minutes to get this meeting taken care of. Then I’ll take you home.”
He kisses the top of my head and leaves. I sink back into the chair, my heart still racing. Drawing in a breath, I catch sight of a large world map pinned to the wall. I hadn’t noticed it the last time I was here.
Rising slowly, I walk to the map. The surface is dotted with multicolored pins that clearly indicate businesses or regions Invicta Spirits has a stake in.
But the map’s intent matters far less to me than the fact that Cole is using a paper wall map and stick pins to plot his world domination or whatever.
Relief eases the pain in my chest. For a long time, I stare at the map. It had once been so easy to love Cole Danforth. Forcing myself to fall out of love with him had been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
But I didn’t succeed. Not one bit.
Chapter 14
Josie
* * *
Though I try to put the haunted tour out of my mind over the next few days, the horrific idea still lingers. I’ve never had the intention of returning to the accident site. In fact, I’ve gone out of my way to avoid it. But knowing people are visiting the inlet as a tourist stop evokes a strange urge to see it again, as if I can somehow reclaim it.
Highway 16 and the Old Mill Bridge are the only geographical elements in Castille I haven’t included in the mural. And though people continue to stop by to help paint—my former art teacher, several of my father’s friends, even Allegra King—only Cole knows about the secrets I’ve hidden in the design. There’s the secrets wall, of course, the granite stones beside the lighthouse where visitors leave scraps of paper on which they’ve written a secret.
All the other secrets are mine and his. There’s the silhouette of my father in the post office, and a replica of my mother’s Beatrix painting on the Castille Museum wall. Teddy, wearing his favorite Star Wars T-shirt, is playing tetherball amidst a group of children on the school playground.
And there are the secrets Cole and I share—the platform treehouse, the red candy jar in the window of the Sugar Shop, the figures on the carousel.
Maybe someone will look closely enough at the mural to discover my secrets. Maybe not. With the ocean in the foreground, the mural is a sweeping panorama of the town’s history populated by hundreds of people and scenes, all scaled to the millimeter and set among Castille’s famous and ordinary surroundings—downtown buildings, the lighthouse, the lobster shacks, the carnival, the schools and cafés.
Secrets or not, it’s everything good about this town.
I step back to study the Lantern Square scene, where I’ve finished painting the courthouse.
“Josie?”
I turn to face a stunningly beautiful woman with auburn hair. She lifts her hand to shade her eyes from the sun.
“I’m sorry I’m interrupting,” she says.
“No problem. What can I do for you?”
“My names is Eve Perrin.” She gives me a warm smile and extends her hand. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
I wipe my hand on my overalls, conscious of her elegant silk blouse and pencil skirt, before shaking her hand.
“I’d intended to introduce myself when you first arrived, but unfortunately I’ve been out of town,” she explains. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m an art historian, and while my specialty is nineteenth-century art, I’ve been drawn to the surreal quality of your paintings. Your work is incredible.”
“Thanks.” A flush rises to my face. Much as I appreciate the compliment, I dislike thinking of my freakishly “surreal” art.
“Do you have another series planned for when you finish the mural?” she asks.
“Not really. I’m hoping to find a new aesthetic, though. Something…lighter.”
“I’ve been working with several art galleries in town.” She slips her hand into her pocket and extracts an embossed business card with her name and number. “I’d love to help you set up an exhibition here in Castille, if you’re interested. We could organize it as the launch of your new aesthetic.”
I’m not sure how to respond. I’d love to relaunch my career in Castille, but I don’t know if I’ll come up with anything hopeful after I finish the mural. Creating the history of Castille is both a catharsis and an academic exercise—I’ve had to relearn proportions, perspective, and realism, which my weird, creepy nightmare paintings lack entirely.
But after this?
“Thank you,” I finally say. “I’d be honored, but honestly, I don’t know what I’ll paint after the mural.”
“There’s no hurry at all.” She smiles and nods at the business card. “I’m at your service whenever you need me. If you have time, I’d love to take you to lunch and talk about your work. No pressure, though.”
“I’d like that too. Thanks.”
We make arrangements to stay in contact before she walks toward a nearby café. Not knowing what to make of her overture, I watch her go. I want Castille to know me for the mural, not my horror-show art.
Still, Eve seems nice, and I like the idea of having lunch with her. Maybe if I make two friends, I can convince Vanessa to actually kiss Nathan.
I tuck Eve Perrin’s card into my backpack and continue working. As evening light descends, Cole comes down from his office to help me pack up the supplies.
“You’ll be done with this long before the deadline.” He pauses to study the mural. “How many people have worked on it?”
“I don’t know. I’m keeping a list, though. Maybe we can have a plaque made later with the names of all the contributors.” Wiping my hands on a rag, I admire the mural alongside him. “I hadn’t expected it to become a community effort, but I love that it’s turned out that way. Are you going to paint something?”
“I’ll leave that to you and the town’s artists.” He nods toward his Porsche, which is parked nearby. “Come home with me.”
I indicate my dirty clothes and hands with a grimace. “I’ll get paint all over your leather seats.”
“Good.” He opens the passenger side door and gives me a wink. “Then you can get paint all over me.”
Oh, Cole Danforth. It’s still so easy for you to disarm me.
We get into the car, and a few minutes later he pulls into the driveway of his oceanfront mansion. The spotlights blaze over the garden. I haven’t been here since the night he rescued me from the dark.
Despite the magnificence of our surroundings, we slip back into the past of what we once were. He bakes a frozen pizza, and we eat at the kitchen counter while discussing Empire of the Gods, a show we’d been binge-watching together
in the weeks right before the accident.
“Did you ever finish the series?” I peel the melted cheese off my pizza.
“No. Did you?”
“No. I think it lasted for another two years. I wonder what happened to Lazarus.” Tilting my head back, I drop the cheese into my mouth.
Amusement creases his eyes. “You still eat the topping off your pizza first?”
“Then the crust.” I hold up the sauce-covered crust. “Do you still eat kids’ breakfast cereal? Lucky Charms?”
He shakes his head. “Raisin bran and egg-white omelets.”
“Oh my God.” I groan with dismay. “You’ve become such an adult.”
“I even pay my bills on time and eat my vegetables.” He shoots me a grin and rises to take our plates to the sink.
I rest my chin in my hand, studying him. “So what else do you do? Besides stomp around like Godzilla destroying everything weaker than you.”
“What do you mean, what else do I do?” He washes the plates and sets them in the drainer.
“For fun. Do you still swim and visit the aquarium? Do you see every action movie on opening day and go down to Boston for Red Sox games? Do you camp on Eagle Mountain and go fishing?”
“No.” He dries his hands on a dishtowel, his forehead creased. “I work. That’s why Invicta is so successful. I’ve put everything I have into it.”
“Why distilled spirits? You didn’t even like beer, much less liquor.”
“I lived in New York for a while.” Tossing the towel aside, he leans back against the counter. “Got a job with a hydropower company where my uncle worked. I learned a lot about business, then talked to a guy who’d been thinking about starting a distillery. He asked if I was interested. I wanted something else to do, so I agreed. Turned out I was good at it, so I left to start my own company.”
“What about marine biology?”
He shrugs. His eyes cloud over. “Didn’t work out.”
I straighten and stare at him. A sharp pain fills my chest. Though there’s no denying his business success, even after the horror of the accident, this isn’t how it was supposed to turn out. How he was supposed to turn out.
The Cole of ten years ago—my Cole—had ambitions, goals, a map of the future. He’d been determined to work by the ocean with the sun blazing overhead and the salty wind filling his nose. I’d hoped to attend art school at UC Berkeley, and he’d planned to go with me. He’d get a job at an ocean conservation institute or as a lifeguard before applying to graduate school. We’d get married one day, buy a little house…
We’d gotten close enough to that dream to see it as our future. Then everything changed, but I’d still built a life in California for myself. Cole hadn’t lived any part of his dreams.
“What about grad school?” I ask.
“Never applied. I didn’t finish undergrad.”
I press a hand to my chest. “You never graduated?”
His jaw tensing, he pushes away from the counter and starts to fill the coffeemaker.
“But you…you were two weeks away from graduation.”
“Things changed.”
“I know, but…Vanessa told me you didn’t leave Castille right away.”
“No. I didn’t go back to school either.”
Guilt pierces me. “Was it because of her lawsuit?”
His breath expels in a sigh. “It was a bunch of shit, Josie. That was just part of it.”
“I want you to know I didn’t have anything to do with it. I tried to stop her because even though I was so angry with you, I never thought the accident was your fault.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. I’m sorry she did that. And I never understood why you settled when the police reports had concluded you’d done nothing wrong.”
Cole stabs the start button on the coffeemaker and drags a hand down his face. “I gave her the money because I couldn’t stand the thought of the accident being replayed in court, and you being forced to relive it.”
A wave of shock courses through me. “You did it for me?”
“Why else?” His mouth twists with self-deprecation. “After what I’d done, I sure as hell didn’t want a lawyer interrogating you about the worst night of your life.”
“I…I couldn’t have given him many answers. I didn’t remember anything.”
“I know.” Turning away from me, he takes two mugs from the cupboard. “I didn’t want to go through it again either. It was easier just to settle.”
“But where did all that money come from?” Though I suspect I already know the answer, a sudden fear lights in my heart. “Your father?”
“Some.” He sets a mug in front of me, his expression closing off. “The rest was all of my trust fund. I went to work for the Iron Horse to pay it off. That was why I couldn’t leave right away.”
I close my eyes. “Cole, I’m so sorry. You working for your father was never what I wanted. It must have been awful for you.”
“Nothing I hadn’t been through before.”
Sorrow and regret surge inside me. After shedding the troublemaker label from his childhood, and then being driven back under his father’s control…he’d have been forced to endure even more fire from the community.
“I know your father was all upset about the rumors,” I say. “It must have gotten worse after the lawsuit.”
“Yeah.” He rubs a hand over his jaw, a sudden fatigue creasing his features. “When word got out that I’d settled the lawsuit, everyone assumed I was guilty. That I’d gotten away with murder. They still think that.”
I can only imagine the gossip. Cole Danforth was always a problem. Pity, since his father was such a good man. Not surprised he ended up like this. Poor Faith and Ben, mixed up with that boy. If he wasn’t drinking, he was on something. Josie should never have had anything to do with him.
“They can’t possibly still think you were at fault.” Tension constricts my jaw. “The police reports…”
“No one cares about the police reports.” He grabs the coffeepot with a sharp movement and pours coffee into the mugs.
My discomfort intensifies. I’d cared about the police reports. They’re still the source of my lost memory. The only way I know what happened.
“Josie, it’s all over and done with.” Cole shoves the pot back onto the burner, his shoulders stiff. “I sure as hell don’t want to go back and relive any part of it. And from what you told me, you don’t either. You want to look forward, not back.”
I nod, though unease shivers through me. Reflexively, I touch the evil-eye amulet I still carry in my pocket. How can I look forward if I’m still haunted by creepy things lurking in the dark? Faces staring at me? What if they never go away?
“Hey.” Cole stops in front of me, his big solid presence dispelling my anxiety. He nudges his body between my legs and lowers his head to kiss me. “I can hear you thinking.”
A chuckle rises to my throat. “We do a lot of that, huh?”
“Sometimes I think of good things.” Running his hand over my hair, he pulls away and picks up a white bakery box from the counter. “Especially this little woodland elf who ended up being the best thing that happened to me.”
My heart clenches. “We were good, weren’t we? Even if I did have to throw myself at you with wild abandon to get you to realize that.”
He grins at the reminder of the first time I’d kissed him on the Water’s Edge Pier. Even now, I still remember our bodies pressing together, the combined tastes of cherry and pineapple Lifesavers, the urgent way he’d returned my kiss.
“We were very good.” He opens the box and removes a white cake elaborately decorated with little yellow leaves and swirls.
Shocked, I stare at the curly writing: Happy Birthday, Josie Bird.
“Oh my God.” I lift my gaze to his. “It’s my birthday. Things have been so crazy and…just weird that I totally forgot.”
“I didn’t.” Looking rather pleased w
ith himself, he takes two plates from the cupboard. “I still have the party invitation you gave me when you were nine.”
“Really?” Pleasure fills me. “That’s so sweet.”
He puts several candles on the cake and lights them, then sings “Happy Birthday” in a low, warm baritone that sinks right into my blood. Before blowing out the candles, I grab his tie and tug him toward me for a kiss.
“I wish us both peace,” I whisper against his lips. Together.
Tension rolls through him for an instant. He puts his hand on the back of my neck and deepens the kiss. “Better blow out your candles before they set my tie on fire.”
With a smile, I pull away and blow out the candles. He cuts the lemon cake, which is sweet and delicious, but not quite as good as the dry, sour lemon cake he’d made for my twentieth birthday.
“Come with me.” He takes my hand and tugs me to my feet. “I have a present for you in my bedroom.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
He tosses me a narrow glance. “I mean a real present.”
“Mmm. A real big one?”
He shakes his head at me and laughs. We walk upstairs to his third-floor bedroom, and the instant I precede him past the door, warmth floods me. Everything in this room reminds me of the boy he’d been.
A computer desk is cluttered with papers, and the cat Curly is stretched out on the rumpled navy comforter. A bookshelf stuffed with paperbacks sits beside the door, a speaker system is attached to the wall, and clothes are scattered around—a hoodie, wrinkled T-shirts, a pair of jeans.
I run my hand over a T-shirt lying on the bed. It’s inside-out, and there’s a worn spot at the back of the neck. Proof that he still takes off his T-shirts by tugging the back collar rather than pulling up the hem.
“This is where you are.”
“Where I am?” He pulls his eyebrows together.
“Your stuff.” I indicate the room. “The rest of the house looks like a showroom, but my Cole was here all along.”
He smiles—a smile exactly like the kind he’d give me when I’d bound into the apartment after a day of classes. A smile that crinkles his eyes at the corners and displays his beautiful white teeth. A smile that says he’s happy I’m home, he’s glad to see me, he’s about to come over and kiss me.
