The Clarke Brothers (Complete Series)

by Lilian Monroe

  “Now you listen to me, Randall,” she commands. Zoe’s eyes widen and she stiffens beside me. “Your daughter is going to be fine. These are great doctors, and she was only in the water for a minute. You hear me? She’s going to be fine.”

  “I’m a terrible mother,” Zoe says. Her voice is flat, and she doesn’t seem to know where she is.

  “Oh, hush,” Sandy says. “You’re a wonderful mother. Everyone can see it. Now you need to be the great mother that you are and be ready to be strong for your family. You hear me?”

  That seems to have some effect on Zoe. She sits up a bit straighter and wipes her eyes on the back of her hand. She nods to Sandy, taking a sip of coffee before grimacing.

  Sandy chuckles. “Worst coffee I’ve ever had,” she agrees, standing up and glancing down the hall.

  Sandy stays with us until the early hours of the morning. She nods off on a chair at one point, but she’s there, with us, the whole time. Zoe seems to come around after a couple hours and tells Sandy to go home. Sandy laughs. “You won’t get rid of me that easily,” she says, and that’s that.

  Every minute is agony and every hour is endless. I try to stop my mind from drifting back to that day by the river over a decade ago, when my father did the same thing for Mara McCoy. It was the start of the decade-long feud between the McCoys and the Clarkes that tore this town in half. Now, I’m reliving that nightmare and somehow it feels even more visceral.

  Finally, a tired-looking doctor appears and nods to us.

  “Audrey is going to be fine,” he says unceremoniously. Zoe makes a horrible strangled sound and immediately starts sobbing. The doctor nods, waiting for her to compose herself before continuing. “Bernadette is still in critical condition,” he says. Zoe makes another horrible noise and I put my arm around her shoulders.

  “Can we see them?” I ask. The doctor nods, and leads us down the stark white hallway to their room. It smells like antiseptic and the fluorescent lights are giving me a headache. Zoe’s shaking.

  Zoe goes to Audrey, climbing in the bed beside her and putting her arm gently over her daughter’s body. She puts her head next to the pillow and cries silently as Audrey sleeps. The color is returning to the girl’s cheeks and lips, and Sandy squeezes my arm as she lets out a sigh of relief.

  I glance at the next bed, where Bernie is laying. She looks pale as a nurse attends to her. She has thermal blankets over her entire body, and the nurse is jotting down her vital signs on a chart. I pull up a chair between the two beds and find Bernie’s hand, holding it in my own. It’s cold. Memories flood my mind and for a moment, I see my father laying on his death bed in this same hospital.

  “Don’t die,” I whisper to her. “Please, Bernie, don’t die.”

  31

  Zoe

  My mother dies in that hospital bed. She’s too old and too frail to sustain that kind of shock to her system. The doctors aren’t able to get her body temperature back to where it should be, and she never wakes up.

  I’m numb.

  She passes as I hold her hand and Audrey sleeps in the bed next to her. The pain in my heart is indescribable. The mix of guilt and shame and misery swirling around inside me feels like a thousand cuts to the flesh, slowly bleeding as I watch my mother breathe her last breath.

  She saved my daughter and it cost her her life. Ethan and Sandy are beside me, but I don’t see them. I just see my mother and her eerily pale skin, the peaceful look on her face and the eyes that will never again sparkle as she laughs.

  I think Ethan puts his hand on my shoulder at one point, but I’m not sure. I just sit there and look at my mother’s body until the pain inside me is almost too much to bear.

  Sandy says something about not worrying about coming to work, and Ethan says something else, but I don’t hear any of it. One of them puts a jacket over my shoulders and some food appears beside me, but nothing makes me move from my seat next to my mother’s bed.

  It’s not until I hear Audrey’s voice behind me that I’m pulled out of my stupor. What she says breaks my heart all over again.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy,” she says in a whisper. “My boat was getting stuck in the rocks and I just wanted it to float down the river.”

  I turn to my daughter and shake my head, wrapping her in my arms. “Shh, Audrey. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “What happened? Where’s Grandma?”

  My heart breaks all over again and I take a deep breath. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I look in my daughter’s eyes and brush a strand of hair off her face.

  “Your grandmother was very brave. She ran into the water to get you out. She saved you from the river, and she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”

  Audrey glances over at the other bed. “Is she asleep?”

  It’s hard to speak with the lump that’s formed in my throat, and I can see the wheels turning in Audrey’s head. She looks at me and then at her grandmother again, and her face scrunches in fear. Her eyes widen and my heart feels like it’s shattering all over again.

  “Will she wake up?” Her voice is a squeak, and mine is completely gone. All I can do is shake my head from side to side and hold my sobbing daughter to my chest. We cry together, and Audrey just keeps repeating I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

  I pull away from her and take her face in my hands. “This is not your fault, Audrey. Do you hear me? It was an accident. Your grandmother died to save your life, and I will forever be grateful.” My voice catches on the last word, and I take a deep breath. “It is not your fault.”

  “Of course it’s my fault,” Audrey says, and I see fear and sorrow in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom. You told me not to get too close to the water. I’m so sorry. Grandma…”

  “Shh, Audrey,” I say, holding her close to me. I try to comfort her but my voice is gone again, and all I can do is rock her gently back and forth.

  The next few days are a blur. Ethan takes me home with him, and somehow all my things appear in his house. Food appears in our fridge, and I vaguely realize that almost everyone in town brings us things we might need. We have frozen casseroles and dinners, flowers, drinks, teddy bears. Even Ethan’s house gets a spruce up from the endless stream of people coming to help us and give their condolences. Squeaky hinges are fixed, he gets a new dining table and a bed for Audrey’s room. The generosity is endless.

  I try to be grateful, but it’s exhausting. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my heart, I realize that this community has accepted me as one of their own, but right now I’m just trying to keep breathing. Seconds tick by and the pain doesn’t go away.

  Audrey recovers from her physical injuries as only children can, but there’s a darkness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. Her voice is dampened, and I don’t see her jump and dance and laugh like she used to. Ethan sees me watching her and puts his hands on my shoulder.

  “She’ll recover,” he says softly into my ear, and I try to blink back the tears in my eyes. I nod vigorously and try to force a smile.

  “I know,” I answer. I’m just not sure if I will.

  Two weeks after the accident, Audrey is recovered enough to go back to school, and I try to contain the heart-wrenching fear in my heart when I watch her leave. It’s hard to have her out of my sight, but Ethan squeezes my shoulder and kisses my temple and I let her go.

  “Come on,” he says after she’s gotten on the bus. “Let’s get some brunch at the hotel. My treat.”

  I watch the bus disappear around the bend and ignore the urge to run after it and drag my daughter back to my side. I look at the man who’s held me up these past few weeks and nod.

  “That sounds nice,” I respond, and he squeezes my shoulder again.

  “I love you, Zoe,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “I love you too.”

  And that’s that. We head toward the hotel for some breakfast.

  32

  Ethan

  By t
he end of September, Zoe, Audrey and I have slipped into a new routine. Lang Creek townspeople start getting excited about the biggest event of the year: The Fall Festival. It seems like everyone is in town for it. I see people here all the way from Long Lake, and even Albany. Even Mickey, who owns the B&B that I like, is here.

  I walk hand-in-hand with Zoe, and Audrey skips beside us. Audrey is laughing more. Settling into a routine with school seems to have helped. Zoe still looks sad when she stares off into nothing, but she’s starting to laugh again too. We don’t talk about that day by the river too much, but it hangs over us like a dark cloud.

  Zoe leans into me as we walk, and I squeeze her hand. She’s wearing jeans and a tight top with a clingy cardigan, and she couldn’t look any better. We walk into the festival grounds, wandering through food stalls and a farmer’s market. We stop in front of some performers. One of them is juggling while the other is cracking jokes. Audrey glances up at the two of us with laughter in her eyes before turning back to the performers.

  Zoe turns to me and I touch my nose to hers.

  “Thank you,” she says as I kiss her forehead.

  “There’s nothing to thank me for,” I answer. She smiles and shakes her head, and I see a lightness in her face that I haven’t seen in a long, long time. Maybe it’s all the people, maybe it’s Audrey laughing and skipping in front of us, maybe it’s the crisp autumn air. Whatever it is, Zoe looks how she did before the accident. It’s been a few weeks now, and the shock of the incident seems to have worn off.

  Audrey is doing well at school, and we’ve settled into a new normal life. I never thought I would say this, but things are good.

  I kiss Zoe’s forehead, thankful that she seems to be coming back to me after the trauma of losing her mother and almost losing Audrey.

  “I want to go on the pony!” Audrey says, pointing to a sign for pony rides. There’s a large enclosure at the other end of the fair grounds. Zoe nods and smiles, and the three of us set off in the direction of the pony rides.

  We’re only about halfway there when Margaret McCoy steps out in front of us. I freeze, and Zoe does the same. Audrey smiles at Margaret.

  “Hi, Mrs. McCoy!” she calls out.

  Zoe bristles, and I wonder if, like me, she resents Margaret and the stick boats that started the horrible chain of events near the river.

  “Hi there, Audrey. How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” she says cheerily, oblivious to our discomfort. “I’m going on a pony ride!”

  “Isn’t that nice,” Margaret says, not looking at Audrey. Her eyes are trained on me, and a chill goes down my spine. I stand up straighter.

  “Why are you still here, Margaret?” I ask. “Life was better when you weren’t in town.”

  “Was it, now?” She asks slowly, glancing from me to Zoe and back. Zoe squeezes my hand as if to say, don’t make a scene. She turns to Zoe. “I’m sorry to hear about your mother. She seemed like a lovely woman.”

  Zoe tenses. “She was,” she answers through gritted teeth.

  Margaret smiles, but her eyes remain dull. “Glad you’ve found a bit of happiness,” she says, nodding to me. “Although a Clarke wouldn’t be my first choice.”

  “Oh fuck off, Margaret,” I explode. “All you’ve done here is cause trouble since the day you stepped foot in town. Do you thrive off making people feel uncomfortable?”

  Her face turns dark. “This is my town as much as it is yours! I’m sick of you and your brothers parading around town like you own the place. How dare you speak to me like that!”

  “How dare I?” I repeat, incredulous. “How dare I?!”

  The anger is rising inside me. Zoe squeezes my hand again but it’s like I have tunnel vision. All I can see is Margaret McCoy, and the anger of the last decade starts to flood my veins. I’m vaguely aware that I’m shaking. It takes all my concentration to keep myself in one piece when my body feels like it’s about to explode.

  She has the nerve to be mad at me, when Margaret McCoy is the reason that Audrey was playing near the water. Margaret is the reason that Bernie died. Margaret is the reason that Dominic almost lost Mara last year, and the reason that my brothers and I lost our father’s business. She is the reason that the past ten years have been spent in a dark hole of depression and misery and scraping by and wondering why life is so difficult when your last name is ‘Clarke’.

  I slip my hand out of Zoe’s and ball my hands into fists. My nails dig into my palms and the pain of it eases the fury in me long enough to notice Dominic at the edge of my vision. People are pausing near us, glancing at us curiously and waiting to see what happens. Their shameless curiosity only angers me more.

  I shake my head. “You’re evil, Margaret McCoy. Pure evil. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. I don’t know why you’re here, but I know you’re up to no good.”

  “Well, at least I’m not an arsonist,” she spits. Zoe tenses beside me but I don’t have the energy to look at her. All my focus is on McCoy. I see my brothers moving toward me from the corner of my eye, but the words are already leaving my mouth.

  “I’m glad I burned that fucking thing down,” I spit. “That hotel was just a testament to your greed. You don’t care about this town or these mountains. All you care about is yourself. You’re probably here to remind everyone that you’ve ruined at least two families with your spite.” I spit the words out. I’m shaking, the heat rising to my ears as I try to contain my anger. I take a step toward her and shake my head. “I’d burn down that fucking hotel a hundred times if it meant you left town and never came back.”

  It’s not until Dominic puts a hand on my chest and makes me step back that I realize how badly I’m trembling. I look up and see a ring of people around us, and Margaret McCoy looking at me with a triumphant look on her face. Dominic sighs, pushing me back gently another step.

  “Ethan,” he says, and shakes his head.

  I turn around and my heart drops.

  Zoe’s face has a thousand emotions written across it. I can see the pain and betrayal of my words. The lie I told her, months ago, to protect my brothers and my town is coming back to haunt me. Margaret is gloating behind me and Zoe’s bottom lip is trembling. The pain in her eyes is indescribable, and my heart rips in half. It feels like two hands are pulling my chest apart, and my insides are spilling onto the ground in front of me.

  Zoe doesn’t say a word. She looks at me for another second, and then takes Audrey’s hand and walks away.

  “Zoe, wait!” I call out. I break free from Dominic’s grip and run after her. “Wait!”

  She stops and glances around at the dozens of people watching us. Fucking Fall Festival, I think as I see the mortification in her eyes. Finally, she drags her eyes back up to mine and it feels like a dagger has been plunged right into my heart.

  “You lied to me,” she says, her voice low and pregnant with emotion. “All this time, you’ve been lying.”

  “Zoe, I…”

  She holds up a hand and I stop talking. Her eyes shine with unsaid words, and she turns around again, walking away from me.

  I want to run after her. I want to drop to my knees in front of her and beg her to forgive me. I want to explain that I lied because I didn’t know her. I lied to protect my brother and the Sheriff, to protect my town. I lied to protect myself.

  I want to tell her that everything is different now, that I don’t want to protect myself from her because I love her. I love her more than I’ve loved anyone before.

  But I can’t say anything. I watch her walk away, hand-in-hand with her daughter, and my feet turn concrete. I stay rooted in place as my heart breaks over and over with every step that she takes. It’s not until Dominic puts a hand on my shoulder that I tear my eyes away from Zoe.

  “I’ve lost her,” I say. My voice is flat, and my whole body feels grey. I’m empty.

  “Come on,” my brother says. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Numb, I follow him in the opposite direct
ion, glancing one last time in the direction that Zoe left.

  33

  Zoe

  Audrey’s voice sounds like it’s a thousand miles away. It’s like she’s speaking to me from under water. I’m standing outside the festival grounds, looking down the road.

  “Mom?” She says gently.

  I’m pulled out of my stupor and look at my young daughter. Her face is drawn, with her eyebrows pulled together and her eyes full of concern.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course, Audrey,” I lie. “I’m fine.”

  Where will we go?

  Stupidly, I’ve moved all my things to Ethan’s house. I’ve moved all Audrey’s things there, too! I’ve moved her all the way from her home to come to this godforsaken place! A place full of lies and deceit and decades of animosity. Why would I willingly come to a place like this? Tears cloud my eyes as I curse myself.

  Audrey tugs at my arm and nods toward the McCoy hotel. “Let’s go see Katie,” she says, and I follow my daughter numbly.

  I should be the responsible one right now. I should be the mom. I should be the one telling her where we’ll go and what we’ll do. But all I can do is follow her lead and let my feet take me down Main Street toward the largest building in town. I stumble on the pavement, and Audrey squeezes my hand. Her lips are set in a thin line, and she keeps her eyes trained on the hotel. She looks much, much older than eight years old.

  Guilt floods through me and swirls in my stomach with the pain of Ethan’s betrayal. If it were just me that was hurt, I could deal with it. But now I’ve dragged my family along, for what? My mother has died and now Audrey has to deal with her own pain and mine.