The Way Back to Erin

by Cerella Sechrist

  Burke continued the repairs and made short work of applying compound and sanding down the wall.

  “There we go. All that’s left is to paint.”

  “How’d you learn to do that?” It was the first Kitt had spoken since they’d come upstairs together.

  He shrugged in response. “I don’t know. I just picked it up somewhere, I guess.” He cocked his head. “Did you ever help your dad around the house?”

  Kitt didn’t respond but lowered his head. Burke winced. Kitt had only been four years old when Gavin had died. Not old enough to have participated in too many projects around the inn. And given how Gavin had been deployed in the army for months at a time only reminded Burke just how much Kitt had been shortchanged in his relationship with his father.

  “I probably picked it up from your dad, actually. He was always good at this kind of thing.”

  Kitt’s head lifted. He followed Burke as they moved into the hall, where Aunt Lenora had mentioned there was another crack that needed to be repaired.

  “He could fix anything,” Burke went on. “He was like the resident handyman here at the inn when we were teens.” Burke paused, remembering. “Actually, I’d forgotten that. Your dad and I both had chores when we lived here. I usually had to mow the lawn and rake leaves in the fall. But Gavin, he got all the repair jobs because he was so good at it. I mean, this house is old. So things were always breaking, and Gavin would fix them right up.”

  “How old?”

  “Hmm?” Burke asked distractedly as he searched for the crack Aunt Lenora had mentioned. He found it relatively easily. She, or perhaps Erin, had positioned a small table in front of the worst part to hide it. But it was still visible if you stood a few feet back. He put down the drywall tools and lifted the table out of the way.

  “How old is the Moontide?” Kitt asked.

  “Oh, way old. From before the 1800s. It was built several years after the end of the Revolutionary War, I think. I remember once this guy came to stay here for a weekend, and he kept talking at breakfast about the archeology of houses like this, how they survived attacks during the War of 1812 and stuff, when the British were trying to take the Bay.”

  Burke turned and caught Kitt’s befuddled expression. He grinned.

  “Let me put it this way. This inn has been standing for well over two hundred years.”

  Kitt’s eyes grew round at this number. “Two hundred years?” he breathed.

  “Yep.”

  Burke examined the six-inch gash in the wall, wondering how it had happened and then decided it didn’t matter. Aunt Lenora had grumbled often enough about how the more careless guests at the inn treated the house. People didn’t worry about damages when they’d be gone by the end of the week. Although, with a house as old as the Moontide, repairs had to be expected. A building didn’t get to be around this long without its fair share of aches and pains.

  “It looks like this one is going to take some work. You want to help me cut out the wall?”

  What little boy didn’t like the chance to do a little demolition?

  But Kitt hesitated.

  “You’re going to cut the wall?”

  Burke laughed. “In this case, it’s okay. It’s kind of like...we have to make this part—” he pointed at the crack “—worse before we can make it better.”

  He tugged the utility knife free of his pocket and handed it to Kitt.

  “You want to take a shot at it?”

  Kitt stared at his hand for a long moment before reaching for the handle.

  Burke squatted down next to him and pointed two inches left of the wall’s gash.

  “We’re going to start here.” He held Kitt’s hand steady and helped him press into the wall.

  And then he heard Erin’s voice, shrill and sharp.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ERIN FELT HER cheeks warm with anger at the sight of her six-year-old son holding a utility knife in his tiny hands. The sound of her voice caused Kitt to let go of the plastic handle and pull back, leaving the incriminating object in Burke’s hand.

  “Hey,” Burke greeted her, his tone belying his confused expression. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” She experienced another swell of ire and moved forward to pluck the utility knife from Burke’s hand, careful to avoid the sharp end. Belatedly, she realized it had a safety mechanism that prevented the blade from remaining out. It was securely sheathed beneath a plastic guard. “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  She was not about to let this offense go. “What do you think you’re doing, giving a knife to a child?”

  Burke blinked, his lips parting in surprise. “I was right here. Nothing was going to happen.”

  “He’s six years old, Burke. You can’t let him play with a knife.”

  “He wasn’t playing,” Burke defended. “We were patching drywall.”

  Erin’s lips pursed. This was why it was a bad idea for Burke to live at the inn. He just didn’t understand. He hadn’t been around kids enough. He didn’t know what was acceptable and what wasn’t. He wasn’t Kitt’s father—

  She drew this thought up short. Of course Burke wasn’t Kitt’s father. But he was his uncle. And in truth, Erin couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Kitt interact with anyone the way he’d been interacting with Burke a moment ago. Some of her anger deflated.

  Some. But not all.

  “You have to be more responsible, Burke. If you plan to live here—”

  “Whoa. Hold on.” Burke held up a hand. “This is temporary, Erin. I’m not planning to stay here long. Just until I can figure out what’s next.”

  These words should have relieved her. But she experienced a pang of disappointment instead.

  Kitt stood to his feet then, turned and hurried away, his tiny footfalls echoing through the upstairs hall as he headed downstairs. She sighed.

  “What did I say?” Burke asked, confusion evident in his tone.

  Erin didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure what Kitt’s abrupt departure meant. Maybe her and Burke’s disagreement had bothered him. He wasn’t used to hearing Erin raise her voice. He rarely gave her reason to.

  “I should talk to him,” she said and headed toward the stairs.

  “Erin, wait.”

  She halted, her heartbeat picking up speed as Burke came up behind her.

  “Are we...good?”

  She tensed at the question, too aware of how closely Burke stood. She could see every dark fleck in his eyes, and the way his lashes started out dark and then lightened toward the tips. Gavin’s eyelashes had been a dark brown the whole way through. She swallowed.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Burke shifted from one foot to the other, the action moving him just slightly away from her. It was all she could do to keep from leaning in his direction to bring him closer again.

  He scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable.

  “I just meant...I don’t want it to be weird for you, with me staying here. I know it’s where you and Gavin—”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She crossed her arms over her chest, willing Burke to drop the conversation. She didn’t want to think about what his words meant. She didn’t want to relive a past that needed to stay buried.

  Burke stopped talking when she interrupted him, but his eyes were intent on hers. She blinked, refusing to look away. Refusing to back down. She would pretend as though his presence didn’t affect her, that none of it touched her. She was a master of denying her emotions.

  She’d had to be or her grief would have pulled her under a long time ago.

  She stared him down until his features smoothed out, understanding darkening his eyes.

  “Okay then.”

  She gave a sho
rt nod and made to move past him. He blocked her way for a moment longer.

  “This is only temporary, Erin. I promise.”

  She didn’t react, and after another few seconds, he stepped aside to let her pass. As she brushed by him, she schooled her features to a blank slate so he couldn’t see the turmoil inside her.

  * * *

  AFTER HIS ENCOUNTER with Erin, Burke finished up a few more of the drywall repairs on the second floor. His chores eventually led him to the large windows overlooking the Moontide’s expansive backyard. He paused to stare out the window, admiring the gazebo that had been the showcase for so many weddings over the years.

  When he and Tessa had first begun planning their wedding, she had suggested the Moontide as the venue. He had been adamant in his refusal, and when Allan had proposed holding the wedding at the Delphine, Burke had pushed Tessa in that direction. She’d broached the subject of the Moontide only once, asking why he seemed to have such bitter memories of the only real home he’d known after his parents’ death.

  He’d been sharp in his response, snapping something about the Moontide and all it represented for him—family vacations that he’d lost, memories that had been stolen before they were made. Tessa, with her typical sweetness, had not taken his tone to heart but rather wrapped her arms around him and replied, “Then we’ll create new memories, enough for two lifetimes, to make up for the ones you never had.”

  Her goodness shamed him. She’d been understanding, far more than she should have been, especially because his answer to her was only part of the truth. The Moontide represented not only the childhood that had been taken from him...but the woman he’d once loved.

  Even though she’d chosen his brother over him.

  He ground his teeth, conflicting emotions assaulting him. He missed Tessa. If she were here now, she’d find a way to lift his spirits without pushing him to share what had soured his mood. Tessa had a way of knowing when he just needed her to wrap her arms around him without speaking a word. He would miss having that in his life.

  Thinking of Tessa prompted him to pull his phone out of his back pocket and check the screen. No missed calls. No new texts. A couple of email alerts but nothing urgent. He clicked into the screen and began typing a new message.

  Tess, are you...

  He stopped and deleted the last two words and started again.

  Tess, I’m sorry for...

  He stopped a second time but continued to stare at the screen until the light dimmed and the phone went dark. He’d just lost the woman who was supposed to be his wife. Shouldn’t he have something to say to her?

  With a sigh, he pocketed the phone and looked out over the backyard once more. As his gaze swept the overgrown lawn, his eyes caught on a flicker of movement behind one of the white oak trees. He looked closer and noticed a small foot, moving back and forth, nearly hidden from view but just barely visible with the movement.

  Even from this distance, he recognized Kitt’s sneaker. His nephew must have fled outside after he’d left him and Erin earlier.

  Burke stood there for another minute, waiting to see if the little boy made any moves to come inside. When he didn’t, Burke decided he’d earned a break from his repairs and headed for the stairs so he could step outside and check on his nephew.

  * * *

  BURKE FOUND KITT in the same position he’d witnessed from the second floor windows. The little boy was hidden behind the trunk of one of the Moontide’s ancient oaks, his foot moving back and forth to the silent rhythm that had betrayed his position. He had a book in his lap, but he wasn’t reading. The day was warming up, with only a smattering of clouds in the sky. The rain from yesterday had dried up, and the ground was dry as Burke sat down beside his nephew.

  “Hey,” he greeted.

  Kitt didn’t respond, didn’t so much as look at Burke.

  “I wanted to thank you for your help this morning,” Burke continued, unfazed by Kitt’s silence. “Why’d you run off? We were only halfway done with the drywall repairs.”

  Kitt still said nothing. His silence was nearly palpable, his sadness even more so.

  “Did your leaving have something to do with...your mom and me?”

  Though Kitt didn’t speak, he shifted noticeably.

  “Sorry, little man. Your mom and I, we...well, she had a good point. I should have been more careful with that knife.”

  “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have touched it. Mom always tells me not to touch knives.”

  The words came in such a rush that Burke suspected Kitt had been holding them in ever since Erin had confronted him earlier that morning.

  “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Kitt mumbled, his voice so low that Burke had to lean in close to hear him. He smiled at Kitt’s concern.

  “Who, me? Don’t worry about it. Your mom won’t stay mad for long.”

  He didn’t know about that last part. There was a time when Erin wouldn’t have stayed mad at him. But a lot had changed since then, an ocean of silence and distance. It occurred to him, however, that maybe Erin needed him more than she let on. Not because of the friendship they’d once shared but because of what she’d lost.

  What they’d all lost. Gavin.

  If anyone knew what a grounding force Gavin had been, it was Burke. His older brother had held him up after the death of their parents. He’d stepped into the gap of loss and filled it as best he could. Though death had brought instability and grief, Gavin had been the one constant to see Burke through the hard times. Burke had taken that for granted, not only as a child but into adulthood. He’d been selfish in keeping his distance, assuming Gavin would always be there.

  But in the end, the brother he’d idolized had been a mere mortal when death came calling. He sniffed, his eyes filling at the thought. He blinked away the tears, refusing to let Kitt see him cry. When his vision cleared, he saw his nephew was watching him.

  “You think that’s true? About Mom not staying mad?”

  He forced a grin. “Are you kidding? How can she stay mad at two of the most handsome guys in Findlay Roads?” He nudged Kitt, trying to draw a laugh. The most he got was the ghost of a smile.

  They sat in silence for another couple of minutes. Kitt didn’t seem uncomfortable, but the sadness that constantly surrounded him lingered in the air between them. Burke tried to think of something else to say, words that could draw Kitt out of his shell.

  “You asked me this morning about your dad, and stuff he did when we were kids.”

  It wasn’t Burke’s first choice of conversation, but he found himself desperate to lighten Kitt’s mood. If that meant talking about the past, well, then, he’d give it a try.

  “He loved to make people laugh,” Burke began, “and he could be a shameless prankster. For years, I thought he liked eating bugs.”

  Kitt’s brows furrowed together. “Why?”

  “Because he’d pretend to see a bug, like a fly or whatever, and he’d act like he swatted it or stomped on it to kill it, then he’d reach down, pick it up and pop it in his mouth.”

  Kitt’s eyes went wide. “He really ate bugs?”

  Burke smiled. “No. He usually had something else in his hand, like a raisin or a piece of food that just looked like a bug. And that’s what he’d eat. But he was so tricky with the sleight of hand that I didn’t catch on for a long time that he wasn’t really eating bugs.”

  “What’s sleight of hand?” Kitt asked.

  “Like when a magician pulls a quarter from your ear, but he didn’t really find it in your ear—it was in his hand all along.”

  Kitt narrowed his eyes. “Show me.”

  Burke laughed. “I don’t have a quarter on me just now, but I promise I’ll show you later.”

  Kitt seemed satisfied with this. “So, what else?”

  “What else?”

 
“What else did my dad used to do?”

  “Oh, right. Um, well, a couple of times a year, he’d wake me up early on a Saturday and tell me we had to go to school.”

  “But Saturday is a no-school day,” Kitt pointed out.

  “I know, but your dad would always try to convince me it was a special day. Once, he said it was because we have snow days sometimes so we had to go to school on Saturdays to make up for it. I bought into it, and I’d end up dressed and ready to go before my mom finally realized what was going on and told me I could go back to bed. I was usually wide awake by then, which was exactly what Gavin wanted. Then he’d rope me into playing ball or riding our bikes or whatever.”

  Burke fell silent, remembering how he’d felt, flying along on his bike beside his big brother. Once he was grown, he learned that most older brothers considered their siblings pests. Not Gavin. He’d always treated Burke like his best friend, even more so after their parents were gone. A painful lump lodged itself in his throat. He should have spent more time with his brother while he had the chance. Now he’d never have the opportunity again.

  “Did you get mad at him?”

  “Hmm?” Burke had to reorient himself to understand Kitt’s question.

  “Did you get mad at him? For playing tricks on you?”

  Burke thought about it. “Not really,” he softly admitted. “It might sound weird, but all his teasing made me feel, I don’t know, special. Like he did that stuff because he wanted to make me laugh. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  Burke tried to find the right words so he could explain to Kitt that was just how his dad was. There was no malice in Gavin’s pranks. He did those things to lift people’s spirits. His brother had been one of the most bighearted people he’d ever known.

  “No one laughs anymore, now that he’s gone,” Kitt said.

  The words were like an arrow, straight through Burke’s heart. “It’s hard, losing someone you love. Your dad and I lost both our mom and dad. We were older than you when it happened though. It takes time, but I promise, Kitt, you will learn to laugh again.”

  Kitt didn’t look convinced. “What about my mom?”