Then Hope walked away.
Fiona’s eyes were wide. ‘Just like that? She’s leaving? That’s what you do?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You tell heartbreaking stories and then just split? Alone?’
‘She stayed longer than she usually does. Normally I just say something like I remember that Dad’s favorite color was the shade of wet kelp, and she makes me drink a couple of shots and then she walks home.’
‘Tradition, huh?’
‘All we have left.’
Abe followed Fiona’s lead and faced the water. The clouds were high. It was going to be a crazy-ass rainbow sunset.
Fiona dropped the wire knitting to the blanket.
Then, suddenly, she hugged him.
It was just a hug. Like any other he might get at Tillie’s in the morning. But shit, damn and hellfire, it felt better than a kiss would have at that moment. Her arms were tight and her cheek was soft against his. The brush of her hair on his neck warmed him more than a bonfire.
After a long moment, she pulled away. ‘I’m glad I chose your dad’s boat.’
‘Why were you running away?’
‘My mother.’
‘She was bad enough to chase you that far?’
‘Definitely. And more.’ Fiona looked around, turning her head to the sun. A reddish haze lit the side of her face. ‘You wanna see something? Can we leave our stuff here?’
‘Of course.’
She took his hand. ‘This way.’
As he walked beside her, Abe knew that he wasn’t forgiven. But her hand was in his like it belonged there, and that felt almost – almost – as good.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Knit new memories. – E. C.
Fiona knew it was important that he see this. Before anything else could happen between them, he needed to be inside what she came from.
‘Be careful,’ she said unnecessarily. It was a difficult walk, up the shallow broken steps, and then over the fallen boards. For years, the main door of the lighthouse had been boarded up, but the boards had been partially ripped off, and the building was now open to the wind and water. There were multiple signs posted, reading everything from Hazardous to Keep Out and Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted, but kids had been sneaking in ever since the lighthouse was decommissioned and left abandoned. Fiona knew exactly which boards to push aside to make her way in. Abe followed behind her.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in here,’ he said.
‘Really?’ She stopped so short that Abe bumped into her.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Don’t be. It’s just that I think you’re the only person who hasn’t been in here. You didn’t bring girls in here?’
‘Nope.’
‘Why not?’
He shrugged, and his face darkened. Fiona realized that this place, in his mind, belonged to the father he’d loved. It wasn’t a place to try to round second base with girls.
‘Anyway,’ she hurried to say. ‘Over here.’
‘Right with you.’
She took out her cell phone. ‘Flashlight app.’
‘I use it on the boat all the time.’
‘We live in the future,’ said Fiona. ‘This way.’
They made their way into the lower body of the lighthouse itself. A few years back, an older woman with Alzheimer’s had gotten stuck at the top, and the city had taken out the steps entirely. No one had climbed to the upper deck since, and Fiona was glad. There was nothing up there but wind and a bleak view that stretched out forever and never changed.
Fiona could admit that there were a few – very few – good memories still trapped up there behind the broken panes of glass. Her father pointing toward Hawaii, telling her that maybe tomorrow it would be clear enough to see a girl in a hula skirt. The thump-click noise the light had made as it swiveled in its perpetual arc. And up at the top used to be the only place Fiona could truly get away from her mother. Bunny had been afraid – terrified – of heights. Fiona now wondered if somehow, subconsciously, that’s exactly why her father had taken the job.
‘Through here.’ Fiona pushed at the door that led to the old keeper’s house, attached to the side of the lighthouse. It felt locked, but it had always felt that way. That had been Dad’s trick. Use your shoulder! She bumped it harder, and the door screeched open. Dust flew. In the surprisingly strong light of her cell phone, she could see the old green couch was sunken, destroyed. Something – a teenager or an animal with sharp claws – had sliced it open at some point over the years, and the room was decorated with piles of dirty stuffing. ‘It’s horrible in here.’
Behind her, Abe caught her elbow. ‘Hey.’
She spun. ‘What?’
‘What is this? What’s going on?’
‘I want to show you where I came from.’
Abe didn’t release her elbow, and Fiona realized she didn’t want him to.
‘Why?’
Oh. She didn’t have an answer to that. She leaned her head forward, without thinking, and pressed it against his chest.
‘Hey,’ he said, lifting her chin. ‘I don’t care where you came from. Whether you sprung out of a pumpkin or fell off the back of a motorcycle, I don’t care. Walking through an abandoned house won’t make a spit of difference to me.’
His words sounded good, and Fiona wanted to grab at them, to collect them and keep them for later. ‘But …’
‘Look at this.’ He gestured with the beam of his own phone. ‘This place has nothing to do with you.’
Fiona shook her head. ‘It does. It has to. Come this way.’ She would be stubborn about this. She led them through to a tiny bedroom. ‘This was my parents’ room.’
‘Ah,’ said Abe thoughtfully. Then he peered forward through the darkness, shining his light on the back wall. ‘That’s … Whoa.’
It used to be bright white on a cerulean background. It was the one thing Fiona remembered her mother being excited about in this house. Bunny had drawn the enormous, intricate snowflake on the white wall in pencil, and then she’d painted the wall blue around the pencil marks, leaving the snowflake gleaming brightly through. It had been so beautiful Fiona sometimes thought it looked like it was actually falling.
Someday it’ll snow here, her mother would say. And then you’ll see what you’re missing. Snow covers everything up. It makes everything beautiful, even the ugly things. This is to remind me. Someday, it’ll snow and you’ll see.
Now the wall was grungy. Large pieces of the old paint had rolled off. But the snowflake was still distinguishable, dirty gray against the dingy blue.
It was still beautiful to her. Fiona sighed. ‘Someday I’ll see real snow.’
‘It’s your tattoo,’ said Abe, still gazing at the wall.
‘I got it so I remember.’
He turned slowly and lowered the light. He was so broad that he blocked Fiona’s view of the wall, and for that she was grateful.
‘What are you trying to remember, Fiona?’
She took a deep breath and grounded her feet on the dirty floorboards. ‘That you can’t just paint something and make it pretty. That it’s still exactly the same broken, useless thing underneath.’
Abe’s eyes softened. ‘You know you’re breaking my heart, Snowflake.’
Fiona couldn’t respond. If she did, she would probably gulp or say a fake word.
He went on, ‘Sometimes when a person paints over something, they’re fixing it. Seems to me like that’s what you do at your shop.’
Fiona knew he didn’t get it. Bless him for trying. She turned. ‘So this is it. Just a little one-bedroom house.’
‘Ah,’ he said again. A pause. ‘Where did you sleep?’
‘On that disgusting old couch out there. It wasn’t as bad then, obviously.’
‘Huh.’ He frowned. ‘How long did you live here?’
‘Till the lighthouse closed. It was a fluke for my dad – we’d been driving down the coast while he looked for work,
and the old civilian keeper had just died. Dad basically lied his way into the job, saying that he was from a long line of lighthouse keepers, and that a great-uncle of his had actually built this one.’
‘Sounds like a flawed plan.’
‘He was good at it, actually.’ Fiona remembered how much time he’d spent at the top. Without her, without her mother. ‘Somehow Dad always thought it was best to leave us alone. The womens, he called us. He’d come down the stairs and find us sitting in the living room, me doing homework, her drunk and watching TV, and he’d say, “How’s my womens?” Before she left, obviously.’
‘That must have been hard.’ Abe’s voice was quiet, and he didn’t touch her. Thank God. If he’d reached out to her, there was a good chance the quaking in her chest would turn into tears, and that would be totally unacceptable.
‘Her leaving was hard, yeah.’ Fiona couldn’t quite finish the thought. She breathed in – underneath the moldy stench of salt-rotted walls and weeping sixty-year-old flooring, she could still smell her mother’s perfume, a cloying gardenia-based scent that had always made her dizzy. ‘What was harder was how long she stayed.’
‘I’m sorry you had to go through that.’ Still that low, quiet voice.
Relief tasted sweet on her tongue. ‘Thank you,’ Fiona said, meaning it. ‘So … is it okay?’
‘What?’
‘That we have such different visions of this place? That I want it torn down …’
He nodded. ‘And I want it preserved? Yeah, it’s okay. We can agree to disagree.’ He tugged on her hand. ‘I just want to be here with you. Is that okay?’
Fiona nodded. It was more than okay.
‘Now how about we get out of here?’
She felt relief. ‘We can go out the side door from the kitchen. It locks from the inside. Not that it matters, I guess.’ She looked at the high, broken window. The silver moon was visible in the now-darkened sky. ‘Would you mind … giving me just a minute, though? It’s been a long time.’
Instead of answering, Abe stepped forward. Briefly, he wrapped her in his arms. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and kept them there for a long, long moment. Fiona breathed him in, stopping herself short of actually rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his shirt. ‘I’ll be just outside,’ he said. ‘Holler if you need me.’
He left her in the room alone, with the echoes of the past.
Put on some lipstick.
I’m only eleven, Mama. I don’t need lipstick!
You’re so pale. You look like an albino eel. How are you going to get a boyfriend?
I don’t want one.
You’re too thin, too. Eat another sandwich, and while you’re in the kitchen, fix your father one, too.
But … last week you said I was fat.
Good thing you listened to me. Are those pimples on your chin?
I don’t … have to show you.
You have to show your mother every part of yourself. That’s the rule, that’s what mothers get. Every little, ugly part. Someday, if you work hard enough, you’ll be pretty, like me. Look at me.
I don’t want to.
Come here. Get closer. You see this crow’s foot?
No.
You’re not looking. You see it right here? Here?
Yes.
How dare you? That’s not even a real wrinkle, just a tiny laugh line. Can you really see it? Is it awful?
You’re beautiful, Mama.
You’re just saying that, just saying that because you want to be like me, but listen, little girl, you keep up what you’re doing, running around outside in the sun, you’ll be damaged by the time you’re twenty. No one will want you. No one will even like you. Just keep that up.
The ghostly voices that she knew weren’t real weren’t going to stop. Not until this all crumbled into the pile of rubble it already was in her heart.
Fiona put her hand into her front pocket so that her fingers were right over her tattoo. Sometimes, like now, it still burned from the inside out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Knit as if it will save you. Because sometimes, it does. – E. C.
Something was going on in that falling-down house, and Abe didn’t like it. He hated the way he’d left Fiona in there, her posture bowed as though huge hands were pushing down on her shoulders. No one should look that sad thinking about their childhood. Even though it hurt like shit thinking about the way his parents mourned when they lost baby Marina, even though thinking of his father’s death sliced wounds that would never heal, Abe loved looking back. He loved thinking of the way his father had slid under the bath water, blowing bubbles like a spouting whale, and how when his dad made chili he dunked the whole batch of cornbread into it, breaking it all up with a spoon so the chili was more like a Sloppy Joe. When Abe looked back, he remembered happiness. Laughter. He remembered the way his mother grabbed his father by the front of his fishing jacket, kissing him loudly full on the mouth before he left for the morning, the smell of his oatmeal and coffee still lingering in the air. The way his mother complained when he came home, fish guts smashed down the front of his work jeans. She’d make him change on the back porch, and throw his clothes right into her washer. Dad hollered and streaked naked through the house, and Abe rolled on the living room floor, laughing hysterically.
Whatever Fiona was remembering in there, it wasn’t that kind of childhood. It wasn’t any kind of childhood at all. He stood up from the log he’d been sitting on, intending to march back through the kitchen to that tiny, horrible bedroom where he’d left her, but at that moment, Fiona ran out as if something were pursuing her.
He caught her, and it struck him at that moment that he wanted to be the one to catch her. Not just right now. Tomorrow, too. And the next day. ‘Are you all right?’ Stupid question. ‘Of course you’re not.’
She clung to him like a mollusk. Her hands yanked at his shirt. He lifted her off the ground and kissed her. She kissed him back as if he were the surface and she’d been held under too long. As if she’d been drowning.
‘Come home with me, Fiona.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Say yes.’
Fiona didn’t say anything. She looked at him, though, and Abe felt her measuring him in that gaze. He held her eyes as steadily as he could. He wanted to be good enough for her. He wanted it so badly it hurt. More than he wanted to make love to her, more than he wanted to watch her come, more than he wanted to be the one she kissed in the middle of the night – he wanted to be good enough. He wanted to be great. He could change. For her. ‘Please say yes.’
‘Yes.’
He drove as fast as he could to the marina, partially because he was worried she’d change her mind but mostly because minutes she wasn’t in his arms were minutes wasted. Fiona talked the whole way there, and neither of them listened. Abe knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that if he’d asked, ‘What did you just say?’ she wouldn’t have been able to remember that she’d remarked on the paint job of an old Camaro parked on West Lincoln. She wasn’t listening to her own words, and neither was he.
But their bodies were listening to each other. He could have said to the eighth of an inch how far her arm was from his. When she twisted her body to face him, as she said something about the way the tide was probably rising – either that or falling – he felt her breath touch his cheek.
Both of them were nervous as anemones when he pulled into his parking space at the dock. She was out, and pulling at the dock’s gate before he could even get around the front end of the truck.
‘Hoo, I’m thirsty,’ she said. Her seaweed-colored eyes sparkled at his in the moonlight, and he felt a surge of happiness that threatened to take his head off.
Fiona went on, ‘Aren’t you thirsty? Sheesh, it’s like I’ve never had water or something. I could just kill for a glass of water. Maybe even with bubbles. Do you have fizzy water? What am I asking? You don’t have fizzy water. What guy just has fizzy water –’
‘I have lime mineral water.’
>
The answer surprised her, obviously. Again, he didn’t think she’d even been listening to herself.
Then they were in front of the door. Her eyes were wide.
‘It’s unlocked,’ Abe said.
‘You leave it unlocked?’
‘You never know when a gorgeous mechanic might stop by and need some mineral water.’
She blushed. Holy hell, he loved it when she did that.
Fiona went through into the kitchen. She stopped short and said, ‘I’m not actually thirsty anymore.’
‘Good,’ said Abe, and he carefully lifted off her hat. Under it, her hair was mashed so cute she’d never believe it if he told her. She looked like she’d been on the deck of a boat in high winds for hours. Hot.
Abe lifted her into his arms.
It wasn’t far to his bed, but Fiona giggled the whole way there. ‘Put me down,’ she said. ‘I’m too heavy for you.’
‘You’re just right,’ Abe said, cutting off her laugh. He set her on the bed so that she was sitting up, and he leaned forward so he could be extra clear about what he wanted to say next. ‘You’re exactly right, Snowflake. Perfectly, exactly right.’
Then he kissed her.
He kissed her the way he’d been wanting to since he’d screwed it all up the other night.
He kissed her like a man kisses the woman he loves.
The thought almost stopped him, almost rocked him back on his heels. He sucked air back into his lungs and broke the kiss, lifting her t-shirt over her head. Her eager hands did the same for him. Then she reached for his belt, then the buttons at his fly. She’d shucked him naked before he even knew what was going on.
‘Hey, hey, slow your roll, woman,’ Abe said, moving his hands to her waist. ‘I have needs, too.’
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