The Seacrest

by Aaron Lazar

  I mentally shook myself.

  No. I won’t let it happen.

  I’m tired of being sad, angry, and bitter. I’m sick of being the victim. No more. I’m taking charge.

  Turning my attention to the emails, I scrolled down to the oldest I could find. It was from Jax to Cora, dated two years ago.

  Hello, Cora.

  It was good to bump into you in the market this morning. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to reach out to Finn for years, and maybe together we can make it happen. Thanks for offering to help, and I’d like to take you up on that coffee tomorrow morning. Eight-thirty at the bagel shop?

  Jax

  The reply email had been courteous and polite, but in my heart I knew the reason Cora had wanted to connect with Jax was to get me hooked back into the family fortune. She’d badgered me about it for years. It had been our biggest trigger for fights, and although she pretended to be concerned for our brotherly relationship, I knew better.

  I scrolled down a few pages to an email entitled, “The fire.”

  Dear Jax,

  Thanks for dinner the other night. I think I’m getting a much better picture of how this rift occurred between you two. Frankly, I can’t tell Finn I’ve been seeing you, he would absolutely flip out. He’d toss me to the curb, and it would be all over. I keep gently trying to convince him to take your calls, but he refuses.

  What really surprised me was your take on the night of the fire. I swear, he is convinced you were to blame. I was shocked to find you thought the same of him. You’re being much more gallant about it, I must say. Wanting to help him when you believe it was his fault – that is very humane. Thanks for being there for Finn. Maybe someday you will get through to him.

  -Cora

  The emails continued, referencing meetings and discussions focused on me. Gradually, the topics seemed to broaden, brushing on politics, movies, food, and books. I opened one entitled, “Last night,” from Jax.

  My dear Cora,

  I can’t tell you how much last night meant to me. I know it was wrong, but I couldn't stop myself. You are so beautiful, so damned sexy. I’ve wanted you since I met you that first day in the grocery store, although I fought the urges for a whole month out of respect for my brother.

  I feel terrible about betraying him this way, but something tells me it’s fate. You and I were meant for each other.

  When can I see you again?

  - Jax

  My heart thumped hard when I read this one, and the next, and the next. The letters became more personal, filled with sex talk and terms of endearment. It had only taken him one month to seduce her, and by six months they’d been talking about how to break it to me.

  Why hadn’t they? Why had they kept it so quiet for two whole years?

  I wasn’t sure. Maybe Jax didn’t want to make it permanent, knowing his penchant for numerous affairs. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to share his fortune with her? Maybe she still felt too guilty to shatter me one more time?

  I read through the rest of the emails until ten that night, absorbing the feelings of concern Jax expressed for me that conflicted with his passion for Cora.

  Maybe he really had cared about me in the beginning. Maybe he’d actually been reaching out to comfort and help me. If I’d listened, I might have realized that he believed the fire was my fault, not his.

  Now I had to find out for sure. Too tired to worry about dinner, not to mention that I finished two more beers and the whole bag of chips, I turned off the monitor, brushed my teeth, and headed for bed. Tomorrow, I’d go down to the fire department and see what I could find out.

  And maybe I’d try to stop by The Seacrest on the way back.

  Chapter 60

  June 5th, 2013

  8:20 A.M.

  I pulled up beside the fire department building early the next morning. They had one of their big rigs outside, and one lone firefighter was busy washing and polishing it. I hoped it was just a routine job, and not after having to put out another house fire like the one that killed my parents and sister so long ago.

  The fireman looked up from his job and sauntered over to me. “Morning.”

  “Looking good,” I said, motioning toward the truck. “That’s some wax job.”

  He grinned. “Thanks. It’s a good day’s work, that’s for sure.”

  “I’m Finn McGraw, by the way.” We shook.

  “I’ve seen you around,” he said. “I’m Mick O’Toole.”

  He looked about my age, and I figured he was too young to have been on call the night of the fire. But it couldn’t hurt to ask. “Do you by any chance remember the fire at Blueberry Hill ten years ago?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He nodded vigorously. “Worst one in twenty-five years. Can’t ever forget that one.”

  “Were you there?” I said, thinking he looked too young.

  His face turned solemn. “I was. My first year in the department.”

  I hesitated. Had he seen me go berserk that night? Maybe that’s why he remembered me. I felt embarrassed, but tried to shake it off. “Do you know how it started?”

  He looked surprised. “Well, sure.” With a quizzical glance, he added, “Don’t you?”

  I sighed and spit out the words. “I always thought it was from a cigarette smoldering in the couch.”

  He cocked his head. “Really? What made you think that?”

  “I heard one of the fireman say something about a cigarette,” I said quietly. “That night, you know? While I sat in the ambulance.”

  A look of sympathy flooded his face. “Maybe it was one of the first thoughts they had. Could have been idle chatter, too.”

  “My brother had just started smoking. He did it late at night in the living room when my parents and sister were sleeping. I told him it was dangerous. He used to fall asleep on the couch, you know. I caught him a few times with a cigarette still burning in his fingers. I used to yell at him about it.”

  “That so?” he said. He started polishing the truck again.

  “There’s more, right?”

  “Well,” he glanced back toward the station house. “I probably should have you ask the chief. I’m not sure it’s proper for me to tell folks about the findings.”

  I reached out and touched his arm. “Please. If I’m wrong, I need to know.” Fear shuddered through me. What if I hadn’t shut those fireplace doors properly? What if it had been my fault?

  Mick straightened, stretched his back. “Okay. I guess it would be okay. It is a matter of public record, if you know where to search.”

  I stood, taut and expectant.

  He lowered his voice. “I heard the fire started in the upstairs, in the bathroom. Electrical.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  “That’s what the investigation came up with. A wiring problem.”

  “Electrical?” I repeated.

  “Yep.”

  The years tumbled into place now. All those times Jax tried to see me in the hospital and at home. The phone calls. The letters I’d torn up and thrown away without reading. The hurt in his eyes when I avoided him at the market, briskly walking away when I ran into him.

  “Oh my God.” I swayed toward him.

  Mick reached out to steady me. “Whoa, there. Wanna sit down inside?”

  I shrugged him off. “No. No, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the information, but I need to go.” I started to walk back to the Jeep.

  “McGraw,” he said. “I’m really sorry about your family. It was a rotten deal.”

  “It was,” I agreed. “And thanks.”

  Could it be true?

  Jax didn’t kill my parents and Eva?

  It had to be. This firefighter had no reason to lie or make it up.

  I had to face it.

  All those years of hating my brother for something he didn’t do…all that wasted time.

  If I hadn’t been such a hard-hearted bastard, I might have had a relationship with him. I might not have driven Cora into his arms. They might
not have died that night.

  And I probably wouldn't have reconnected with Libby, either.

  Was it all fate? Meant to be?

  Or had I subconsciously engineering the whole, sordid mess?

  Don’t be stupid.

  I turned the key. The engine roared to life.

  I have to tell Libby. I can't keep something this big to myself.

  I put the Jeep into gear and headed for The Seacrest.

  Chapter 61

  June 5th, 2013

  9:30 A.M.

  I stopped to pick up Ace and my DVD of “The Birdcage” at the farm and then headed for The Seacrest. I figured one thing Ian could probably do was watch movies, and if I could provide a little humor for him and Libby, this would be the perfect show.

  Ace sat contentedly in the seat beside me, his tongue lolling in the open air. Tunes blasted from the fifties and sixties station on the radio, improving my mood.

  “Beautiful day, huh buddy?”

  He woofed, and then actually smiled.

  I ruffled his coat and downshifted around a tight curve.

  “Yesterday” came on the radio, and Paul McCartney’s words reminded me how deeply I loved Libby, how no matter what happened, I’d cherish our times together in youth and over the past few days. But I knew I needed to support her right now, because she had to be going through hell.

  How did someone handle the news that an abusive husband who had reportedly died three years earlier was actually alive, coming home, and would need twenty-four-hour-a-day care for the rest of his life?

  I decided to be neighborly and gentlemanly—difficult as that was for a grouch like me—and try to help where I could. I was sick and tired of being bitter and depressed. I resigned to reject that version of myself. No more moping around like a wounded animal. No more feeling sorry for myself. And no more hating my brother for something he didn’t do.

  Okay, so I could still hate him for stealing my wife. But her death was an accident, and I knew in my heart Jax hadn’t meant to go over that cliff and kill them both. I also realized that maybe I’d subconsciously driven Cora into his arms by not loving her enough.

  I felt a lightening of my spirit, as if something dark and heavy lifted away and blew out across the ocean.

  I wound the Jeep up the curving oyster shell drive. The mansion loomed into view, bringing so many mixed memories it was almost hard to handle. I realized, in a flash, that nothing would ever be the same.

  Rudy’s black sedan wasn’t in the drive, so there would be one less barricade between me and Libby. Fritzi, I could manage. I hoped.

  I parked around back and entered through the kitchen. Fritzi was on her knees in front of the dishwasher, leaning in to pry something out of the back. Ace trotted over and nosed her in the side.

  “Hello, Ace.” She chuckled and turned to me. “Finn? Come help me. A fork is stuck in the back. My arms aren’t long enough.”

  I hurried to her side. “No problem. I’ll get it.”

  After a few minutes of wrestling with the utensil wedged into the rack, I backed out and sat on my haunches, handing it to her with a flourish. “Voilà. Here you go.”

  “Danke, Finn.” She beamed, bright and happy, as if our lives hadn’t changed and been tumbled upside down in the past few weeks in ways that would never come back to normal again.

  “And how’s my doggie? How about a nice big bone?” She reached into the fridge for a bone she’d saved for him. “Here you go.”

  Ace took it to the rug under the table and began to gnaw on it, his big tail thumping.

  Libby came into the kitchen with a tray, looking exhausted. “Finn? What are you…”

  “Hi.” I jumped up and took the heavy tray from her, setting it on the kitchen counter. “Can we talk? It’s important.”

  Her eyes started to flare, but the anger quickly faded. Deflated now, she leaned against the fridge with eyes closed, massaging her temples. “I guess so.”

  I noticed a baby monitor flashing on the counter.

  Fritzi rose to the occasion. “I will listen for the mister.” She scooped the dishes off the tray and began to squirt them with soap and water. “You go ahead, Miss Libby.”

  “Outside?” I said, nodding toward the summerhouse.

  “Okay.” She walked slowly beside me, and we said nothing until we sat in our usual chairs overlooking the sea.

  “I brought a movie,” I said, feeling lame the minute the words left my mouth. “I mean…for Ian. The Birdcage.”

  Her brows furrowed. “I don’t get it. Why?”

  “I thought it would be something he could do in bed, I guess. Maybe cheer him up. You could watch it with him.”

  “Oh.”

  I’d expected her to erupt in fury when I dared to show up on her property. This zombie reaction was definitely worse.

  “What’s wrong, Lib?” Again, the minute the words slipped out I felt like I’d made another huge mistake. Everything was wrong. What a stupid question. “I mean. I know you said not to come over. But I just wanted to tell you something…huge.”

  With a hint of interest, she glanced at me. “Huge?”

  “I went down to the firehouse this morning, asking around. You know, about the fire.”

  “Of course.” She sat up now, her eyes focused on mine. “What’d they say?”

  My voice caught and it came out throaty and choked. “It was electrical. Supposedly started in the bathroom.”

  Her eyes widened, she let out a deep sigh, and she lay back against the chaise lounge again. “Whoa.”

  I explained how Jax had thought it was me all those years, and how I’d read through the emails to see if it were true. I also shared the conversation I had with Berra.

  Standing up, I faced the sea, crossing my arms over my chest. “The fire wasn’t caused by either of us. But we both thought the other was to blame.”

  Libby stood and took my hand, standing beside me, looking out to the deep green swells, the bright winking sun on the boats and sand. “I’m so sorry, Finn.”

  I hadn’t expected that. I’d expected shock and surprise. But she’d actually reached past the obvious and addressed the root of my problem, targeting the heart of it.

  She got up and hugged me. “So many years of loss. My God. You two could have been real brothers. Friends, maybe.”

  A lump swelled in my throat. “It’s killing me, Lib. I rejected him for something he never did. I didn’t give him a chance to explain. I condemned him without evidence.”

  She rubbed a hand along my arm to soothe me.

  I closed my eyes. “And now he’s gone. It’s too damned late.”

  Libby sighed. “How strange,” she said. “It’s like what I did to you.” Her face worked with emotion.

  “You’re right.” I stared at her for a long moment. “It’s the exact same thing. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” I turned and looked toward the house, as if maybe Ian would be watching out the window. But he couldn’t stand, and unless he dragged himself there, it was impossible.

  She sat back on the edge of the chair, her head down. “You’re here, right in front of me, but it’s like you’re gone, too, like Jax.” With tear-filled eyes, she lifted her face to me. “Because I can’t have you.”

  “Libby.”

  “No, there’s no point. I’m married. He’s alive. He’s here.”

  “There has to be a way,” I said, trying to choke back my emotions.

  “How?” Her shoulders shook. “He’s meek now. He doesn’t speak much. Something happened to his brain, I think, in the explosion.”

  “What?” I moved closer to her.

  “His whole personality is different, as if he’s regressed to a child, almost. A docile, quiet, obedient child.” She began to weep now, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “He can barely move. He lies in bed, or sits. He’s going to need very special care. More equipment. A nurse to spell me at night.”

  My heart broke for her. “I can help.”

&n
bsp; She shook her head. “No. It’s too hard for me to see you. It’s just a reminder of what we can’t have, Finn.”

  I settled beside her on the chaise lounge, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “I’d rather be in the same room with you forever, knowing I can’t have you that way, than never see you again.” Her hair smelled so good, her skin felt soft as silk. It was all I could do not to kiss her.

  She must’ve felt it, too, for she pulled away and shook her head again. “I don’t know…”

  “Think about it. I could do the night shift. Or help during the day. We can research what services are available. We’ll get you some help.”

  “Social services is coming later. They’re going to arrange for things he needs. Supplies. Equipment. A chair. A lift. Shower adaptors.”

  “Oh, Libby.” I heard the desperation in her tone, saw the defeat in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” Now it was my turn to understand her pain. “How did our lives turn out this way?”

  She cried quietly now, unashamed of the tears tracing her cheeks. “So many years lost.”

  “There’s got to be a way we can fix it,” I whispered, stroking her hair.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll think on it,” I said. “But meanwhile, when’s the last time you ate something?”

  She blanked out. “I can’t remember. Yesterday, I guess.”

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s have Fritzi fix you up some breakfast. You’ve got to take care of yourself, too.”

  I helped her up and we walked slowly toward the house. It upset me that my strong, self-confident woman had changed overnight to a wounded bird.

  I wouldn’t give up. No matter what the circumstances, I’d be with her, even if it meant I had to wait on her disabled husband, just to be in the same house.