by L. J. Wilson
“I would help you do that too. But a ghost can’t raise boys. While I might have blamed you for our lack of offspring… It seems clear that I was wrong. I’ll never have my own. I’d do right by them, Evie. I swear it.”
She shook her head. “Here? In Good Hope? Not likely—not ever.”
“That’s why you need to listen. I’ve thought it through—carefully. But if you leave here tomorrow—”
“Ezra, you can’t be serious? You want me to stay here and do what…?”
“Be my wife,” he said. “Which you already are.”
She’d nearly forgotten.
Evie dragged her fingers through her hair. “Ezra, I can see how you’d work that out in your mind. And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done—you saved my life. But…”
“Evie, I’m not asking you to come back to Good Hope.” Ezra inched closer. He touched her cheek. Evie didn’t move. Like his hand over hers in the hospital, it was soothing. It had felt that way since she was a girl. “I’m fully prepared to leave this life. The Fathers of the Right, they will survive without me. But I’m not sure I can survive without you—not twice. We can go wherever you like. To this Nickel Springs or New Mexico or Rodeo Drive in California. I don’t care. Not as long as you’re with me.”
Evie didn’t know if it sounded mad or like a plausible theory.
Ezra cupped his hand tight to her cheek. “Hear what I’m saying. But know the choice is yours.”
She blinked hard—he had changed.
“There is something to be other than alone for the rest of your life, which is what I know you’ll do.”
Evie opened her mouth to object. She didn’t. He was right about the last part. Alone was the only option to Sebastian. Evie approached the suggestion from a different angle. “You can’t mean that, Ezra—not about leaving Good Hope. Your life is here.”
He lowered his hand from her face and squeezed her fingers. “I do mean it. And I need to tell you something else—no matter what you decide. I can’t lay my head down one more night, not without saying how sorry I am. Sorry for striking you in Otava. I hate myself for it, and I need you to know that.”
She squeezed his hand back. Old feelings of love and friendship coursed through Ezra’s touch, sinking into Evie. She closed her eyes. “I know you are, Ezra. It was an awful moment—for both of us. But what you’re suggesting now, it’s not how you behave. It’s not what you do. You can’t—”
“I assure, you, Evie. I can. And if you agree, I will. I’ve loved you my whole life. Much has happened in that time, but the fact hasn’t changed.” Ezra stood there, firelight flickering off his wet clothes and melted dreams. “Don’t you think I’ve had opportunities? Don’t you think women—believers as they might be—have offered me their bed? Some quite bluntly… Rachel Pruitt rather often.”
Evie inched back. How obtuse. It had not occurred to her. Unlike Nolan Creek, Ezra would be the ultimate prize in this extraordinary place.
“I said no to all of them.”
“So you were waiting… hoping something like this would happen to me, to Sebastian?”
“No! Of course not.”
And because Evie knew Ezra so well, she knew it was the truth. “Ezra,” she said, letting him pull her closer. “Please don’t put me in this position. Time and death, they can’t make me fall in love with you—not like that.”
He was undeterred. “You once told me that you did love me in some way. Was that untrue?”
“No,” she said, more easily than she thought possible. “What I feel for you has always been something good. Something genuine. Something peaceful.”
“So if it’s not an ocean of passion, and yet we find ourselves adrift, I can accept that. Evie,” he said, waiting until her eyes met his. “I should be happy to be with you on any terms. You do love me in some sense. You just said it. We are married. Your sons have no living, breathing father. Give me one valid reason it can’t work?”
“I… I don’t know… Because…” A breath shuddered out of Evie, but she clung to Ezra’s shoulders, her fists full of his shirt. It was like grabbing onto a solid thing—a place where the hurt wasn’t stabbing. Before she could respond, Ezra’s mouth met with hers. It was a physical nudge, and Evie slipped toward his suggestion. The kiss was sedate, so unlike the command of Sebastian. But Evie didn’t stop the quiet advance. Ezra kissed her harder, which was hardly like kissing a stranger. Then he held her close. Evie stared at the fire’s flames, her emotions filling with something other than grief. Willingly, she waded into feelings that were not sadness and loss.
Ezra led them toward the bed. He spied the bottle of tequila and Evie didn’t know what to say, other than “One more drink might help…” She shrugged. “It’s not my habit, just my memory.” She didn’t touch the bottle, but she did wonder what Ezra might taste like if he downed a swig or two. Without the aid of alcohol, he kissed her again. Evie kissed him back—in part because she didn’t want him to speak. She didn’t want to talk about anything that mattered. God, least of all she didn’t want to think.
At the edge of the bed, Ezra slipped the nightgown over her head. His face looked as awed as it had in the barn all those years ago. He was still fully clothed and Evie hesitated, her fingers poised at the buttons of his damp shirt. “Ezra, I can’t promise anything. It would be wildly unfair of me to—”
“Just give us this night.” He kissed her again. “That’s all I’m asking for now. You can decide anything more later.”
He ran his hands lithely over her body. Evie shivered at his touch. Her stare was overtly conscious, Evie making certain she understood what was happening. A fair-haired man stood before her, his build slight. She did not have to raise her chin to look him in the eye. His irises were a beautiful lagoon blue. Not the green of a spruce tree or the center of a passion flower. He did not elicit desire, just friendly, familiar warmth. It was the kind of love that might get you through. She continued, focused on gratitude. Hastily, she unbuttoned his shirt, unbuckled his belt. She kissed him in a way that would make him feel like her husband. Ezra deserved this and Evie would do so because it felt good to think of someone else. They lay together on the bed where Ezra reclaimed what he’d so painfully lost. And for that, Evie was glad—able to offer him something as simple as her body. It didn’t matter. She was no longer using it in that way.
And for her part, Evie took advantage, wrapping herself in human comfort that Ezra gave so freely. Evie made sure her eyes stayed open—concentrating. If Ezra could look inside her head, Evie wanted to be sure of what he’d see—himself, the two of them in a bed. Ezra was gentle and pleasant—a more mature version of that anxious, happy boy. He was all the things he’d been when she was nineteen but little more.
As a lover, he hadn’t improved—though, of course, he’d admitted to having passed on the opportunity to learn. Evie didn’t coax him or give him cues. She wasn’t interested in making a better lover out of Ezra Kane. As the act itself approached, Ezra brought humor to what had to be his tense, emotion-filled moment. “I think I recall how this parts works.”
“There’s nothing wrong with instinct guiding you.”
He smiled, his face lit by the fire, poised over hers. “You keep looking at me—so intently. Why?”
Evie swallowed hard and answered truthfully. “Because it’s you.”
Minutes later, Evie buried her nose in his shoulder, Ezra’s skin infused with the scent of starch, the clerical collar that so often rode his neck. She let go long enough to swipe fast at tears she couldn’t stop, that she did not want him to feel. He might not have noticed anyway, so overcome by his thundering moment of pleasure and tears of his own, inadvertently mixing with hers. Ezra held her face in his hands and kissed her once more, whispering in her ear. “I’m certain that was different for me than it was for you—but I also know it was meant to happen.”
Not long after, Evie pretended to be asleep, and it didn’t take long until Ezra was snoring softly. He was used to sleeping al
one and did not reach for Evie. She was thankful for this. She’d willingly gone to bed with him, but the instant it was over Evie knew it was all she could do with him or for him. Inside the cabin, a long stretch of darkness finally gave way to dull, gray light—rain still teemed. Evie opened her eyes and stared at the wall. She felt Ezra lean over her. Instinctively, she recoiled as he touched her arm. His body stiffened, drawing away from hers. He sighed deeply—painfully. “Should I take that as your answer?” She couldn’t look at him, nodding her head against the pillow. Contemplative moments of quiet passed, like waiting for a last breath. She could tell he was debating further argument. “No matter what I’ve said, there’ll not be another night like this one, will there?” And the last breath came, languishing from Ezra’s gut. He rose from the bed. There was the quiet rustle of clothes being gathered, pants being zipped.
“I understand if you hate me,” she whispered. “If you banish me from Good Hope forever, I could hardly blame you. I almost wish you would.”
He pressed his arms into the feathery mattress, causing her to roll slightly toward him. “You’ve had enough pain, Evie. I won’t add to it— not if you truly can’t see yourself to even halfway of what I’ve offered. As for hating you, I’d think you’d know by now God has made that impossible. I’m not sure why He allowed me last night. Understand, while I’d prayed for a different reply, I’m not sorry this happened.”
Ezra kissed the side of her head and as always Evie was comforted by his touch. As he walked to the door and left, she almost yelled for him to come back. It was raining. It was cold. She didn’t want to be alone. She would do it—Evie would live her life as Ezra’s wife if it brought him happiness. Hers no longer mattered. But as daybreak widened, Evie knew it would be the cruelest fate of all.
She let an hour pass, then another, finally getting out of bed long enough to put her nightgown on and restart the fire. She could see her breath in the cabin. Standing near the edge of the bed, she stared at the bottle of tequila. Evie gripped its neck and guzzled— the kind of drink meant to erase things. She gagged and the sharp tasting liquid rushed back up her throat. Thunder boomed. “By all means,” she shouted. “Do it! Let lightning strike.” Evie kept the booze down and collapsed back onto the bed, a shivering ball of human suffering. At the moment, she couldn’t even be a mother to her sons. Evie hit her lowest point, crying so hard for so long, she thought her tears might catch up with the rain.
Nature dominated with a thrashing downpour and gusty winds. She didn’t move, not when branches cracked overhead or as a steady leak dripped down the side of the stone fireplace. She didn’t stir when the fire died. Between gulps of air, which Evie seemed doomed to take, she brushed her hand across the label of the tequila bottle. She wondered how much it took to get truly drunk. But her attention was distracted, the sound of a door opening. Surely Hannah wondered what had become of her. The boys must be looking for her by now. She threw back the covers, grasping at an idea about functioning. Aaron and Alec couldn’t see her like this. Evie stepped from the bed, hoping to dash past whoever had come into the cabin.
It was five steps to the bathroom. On the third, she froze. Evie looked toward the figure that had come through the door. She clawed at the hair that hung in her face, hampering her view. Her legs quaked, unable to support her. There was nothing to hold onto, except Sebastian, who rushed forward just in time to catch her.
Present Day
Good Hope, Pennsylvania
Alec had no state-of-the-art ops gear, but he had flesh and blood Clairmont brothers. Together he guessed they wielded a presence equal to Sebastian’s. The thought allowed him to approach Good Hope like a SEAL on a recon mission. A half-hour inside in the target zone, Alec extracted what he’d call mid-level intel: the place was a world unto itself, not unfriendly but reserved, and he probably shouldn’t have said “you’re fucking kidding me,” so loud.
After that, he channeled his Middle East manners. It was necessary in environments that operated under strict customs. If you wanted to get along, if you wanted information, you’d better get on board. The Clairmonts and Jess weren’t the only outsiders walking the streets of Good Hope that Saturday. It was an advantage. They blended. Not even Jake, who had to invest in another hat before leaving the airport, stuck out. Kiera explained that the bake shop/ice cream parlor attracted tourists, people who’d spend money before going home to the Internet and their complex lives.
“Eating sounds good to me,” Troy said.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Kiera agreed. “My presence is unexpected. Six of us showing up at my parents’ door at once will not be helpful.”
“Copy that,” Alec said. “Jake, why don’t you, Troy, and Jess hang back, have—”
“No way,” Jess said. “I didn’t come this far to eat an ice cream cone.”
Alec was surprised she’d come at all. She’d had a tense exchange with Julian in the airport, which seemed standard to him. Red-faced, she’d stormed off, informing Alec, “I’m going with you.”
She continued to make her choices clear. “I get that you’ve got this, Alec. But an investigative journalist might not be a bad asset, considering.”
“You’re right.” Her mouth had been poised to argue and she clamped it shut. “Jake, maybe you and Troy can shake down the locals. Use that charm or your acting skills—whatever works. See if they have anything of interest to add.”
“Good luck with that,” Kiera said. “They won’t share anything with outsiders—not unless it can be scooped into a cone or tied in a pastry box.” She smiled at Troy. “Even good looking boys can find themselves hard up in Good Hope.”
“They can try, can’t they?” Alec said, his patience wearing thin. Since she’d seduced him in his La Carta hotel room, Alec had regretted his Kiera choices. True. They wouldn’t be standing there without her assistance. But she also impressed Alec as the type who liked to push buttons, stir the pot—the type he liked least of all.
When the foursome finally arrived in the Blyth’s living room, Alec hoped it would signal the end of Kiera’s involvement. If Tobias Blyth was shocked to see Kiera and three strangers he hid it well, calling her “daughter,” nodding at him, Aaron, and Jess. Alec stood with this hands tucked behind his back and disregarded the fact that he’d aggressively fucked the man’s daughter less than twenty-four hours ago. Aside from the paternal meet and greet, Alec was having a hard time nulling out the family visuals—the sex-kitten that had clawed her way into his bed, versus the sedate, dowdily dressed girl in front of him. She attributed her sudden presence to “God’s will,” which her father seemed to accept as sufficient reasoning.
Aside from that there wasn’t much information to process. Plain was the décor of choice, beige walls, simple furniture, braided rugs, and a corded phone on the wall. There was a small television, and Alec did note a Lancaster newspaper. The Blyths seemed to be living on the cusp of yesteryear and now. Tobias Blyth had just said he needed to get back to the meeting hall and prepare for tomorrow’s services when a woman came down the stairs.
“Do we have company, Tobias? Millie Pruitt said Rachel’s son might come by to ask Sarah if she’d like to walk to services with him to…” Clearing the staircase, she stuttered to a halt. Hannah Blyth first looked at her daughter, who she hadn’t seen in two years. But her gaze was quickly seared to Alec and Aaron. “Lord have mercy on my soul,” she said, a hand flying over her heart.
Varying degrees of shock and awe followed. It came from Hannah Blyth, who first hugged her daughter and went on to identify Alec and Aaron without introduction. And it came from the Clairmont brothers, who grappled with the story Hannah told. At first it’d been a whirl of questions and answers, most of it centering on what they’d come for: information about Evie. Hannah, it seemed, was the Holy Grail of knowledge, filling in many blanks. She was clearly cautious, but after Alec told her about the crash site and cryptic initials on the plane, Kiera’s mother was more forthcoming. The brothers were
engrossed as the woman told a bizarre tale about a man they called the mission. He’d turned up in Good Hope in the fall of 1977 and turned Evie Neal’s world upside down. His name, she told them, was Sebastian Christos.
Alec thudded his back into the chair, absorbing the same name he’d heard on the streets of La Carta. It was the first solid connection between his father and this place.
“Christos… That’s Greek,” Jess said. Alec and Aaron traded glances as if looking in a mirror, applying heritage to features that fit an ethnic description.
Hannah Blyth went on to explain that she and Evie had been good friends, the two of them growing up together, their families devout members of the Fathers of the Right, which she described as a singular religious organization. “Of course, things were different back then. Our ways were quite fundamental, overtly strict. Your father was an outsider to say the least. From what I know, he was sent here for protection—protection from what… Well, Evie never said.” Hannah stared at her folded hands. “But… I will tell you, if there is such a thing as love at first sight, I believe it describes what happened to your parents.”
Alec and Aaron added the little they knew about family history. Evie had told them her mother passed away years ago, and that she no longer communicated with her father. She’d never said why or mentioned brothers of her own. It was a piece of information that struck Alec as clandestine, telling him how many layers there were to this story. Hannah nodded as if she’d been witness to it all.
After that the conversation took a more curious turn. “Years after Evie left Good Hope with Sebastian,” Hannah said, “she made two distinct trips back. Sebastian wasn’t with her either time. The first visit was unexpected. It, um… Evie came here because she thought Sebastian was dead. We all did.”
“Dead,” Alec repeated. “You mean dead before the plane crash?”
“Indeed. More than a decade or more before that tragedy.” Hannah didn’t elaborate, which only added to Alec’s frustration. He started to interrupt but Jess nudged him with her elbow.
