“Yes,” Button said.
She turned to look at her grandmother. In the natural lights of the studio, she looked pale. A shock of red highlighted each cheek, as though she were fevered.
“I’m sorry, Button.” The painting felt like a betrayal.
Her grandmother opened and closed her mouth several times, and then said, “An artist shouldn’t only paint pretty things.”
“But I always have, right?”
“Well.” Button gave a sad shrug. “Forgive me if I don’t put this one up on the wall.”
Tears sprang to Eve’s eyes as she watched her grandmother leave.
“Of course,” she said, but Button was already gone.
“Eve.” Leigh turned her to him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m so cold.”
Frowning, he pulled off his coat and wrapped her in its warmth.
“Come here.”
He led her to the small sofa. They sat down, hip to hip, and stared at the painting. He wrapped a sturdy arm around her, and she eased into his heat.
“I wasn’t lying when I said it’s really good.”
“But it’s not what I painted.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated, thinking of the blackberry bushes and the children with their buckets. It was a nostalgic scene, a summer day in the Crook. She’d tried to paint something safe and innocent, only to be reminded that she was neither.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “It just didn’t turn out quite like I expected.”
“Do they ever?” Leigh asked with a smile. “I remember your tantrums when you couldn’t get a sketch the way you wanted it.”
“I never,” she said, but without much strength. She probably had.
“I used to enjoy watching you draw. You’d get so absorbed in what you were doing, the world around you didn’t seem to exist. You had this passion, like your insides were on fire. I always loved that about you.”
“And do you still?” she asked, surprising herself with the boldness of her question, with her bravery in asking it.
“I do,” he said simply, one hand gliding over her curls and coming to rest on the sensitive spot above her collarbone.
“It’s always been you. You and me against the world, right?”
“Has it?”
“Maybe you don’t remember,” he said. “But yes. Always.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I remember some things. I mean, I obviously remember you. And that I had just the biggest crush on you when I was little.” Saying that out loud should have embarrassed her, but it didn’t.
“You did,” he agreed with a smile.
“I remember that you seemed larger than life. You were Sara’s perfect older brother. The star athlete, the popular kid.”
“Well.” He shrugged, gave her that smile that twisted her insides into a knot. “That might be true as well.”
“But we were also close, right?”
“You spent so much time at our house, it was like I had a fourth annoying little sister. But we became friends, eventually.”
“How?”
His smile disappeared, and he gave her an earnest blue-eyed look. “There was an accident. You don’t remember?”
“An accident.” She searched her memory and came up blank. “Did I get hurt?”
“No, not you. Somebody else did, though. And even though you didn’t mean to do it, it was kind of your fault. I covered for you so you wouldn’t get in trouble.”
“You did? That was nice of you. Thanks.”
His hair hung into his eyes, and he brushed it to the side. The gesture was so familiar it caused her chest to tighten with something close to nostalgia.
“After that, we became friends. And then when Sara died …”
“How did she die, Leigh?”
“It was an accident,” he said, and his voice grew husky. “A horrible,horrible accident. And none of us ever got over it.”
His eyes had filled with tears, and her eyes started to burn as well. She didn’t remember much, but she remembered her friend. Our hearts are joined together, always and forever.
“What happened to her?”
“I wasn’t there,” he said.
“Was I?”
“It wasn’t your fault, Eve. People wanted to blame you, even my family …” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I guess when something so horrible happens, it makes it easier if there’s someone else to blame. Someone who could be a target for all that anger.”
“Yes,” she said.
“But that was wrong. You weren’t responsible. And I wish I’d been there to defend you.”
“But you weren’t,” she said softly.
“I was in college. I came back once in a while, but no. I wasn’t there. Not enough to make a difference. And I’m sorry about that; I really am.”
She shrugged. “I don’t really remember. And maybe that’s for the best, huh?”
“Maybe it is. We’ve been through a lot together, Eve. We’ve loved each other through a lot.”
She shifted on the couch, feeling uncomfortable.
“It’s okay if you don’t remember. But I did love you. And I think you loved me, too. We were really close, for a time. Because nobody else understood what we’d been through. So we … comforted each other. And loved each other, as best we could.”
“How did it end?”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “It was my fault. I wasn’t ready to feel something so deep. I wanted to get away from my grief. Pretend that what happened to Sara hadn’t happened. But every time I looked at you, I remembered. So it hurt, just being near you. And I didn’t know how to make that hurt stop, except to walk away from you. So that’s what I did.”
There was a cold achiness inside her, like her body remembered the pain even if her damaged brain didn’t. “I’m sorry, Leigh. I wish I could remember.”
He laid a hand over hers, and she felt the warmth of him seeping into her bones and joints.
“But I do. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me before. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. So, I’ll be your memory. If you want me to.”
Her eyes burned with tears again. “I do remember some things. I remember how you made me feel. You were the only one who could ever do it, Leigh.”
“Do what?”
“Make a home inside my skin.”
Rather than respond, he bent and touched his lips to hers.
FOURTEEN
Eve’s Fifteenth Birthday
LEIGH DROPPED ONTO the blanket next to her. “I thought you’d be here.”
She exhaled a thick stream of smoke. “I’m nothing if not predictable.”
“On the contrary.” He gave her that sideways smile that made her stomach do funny things.
She turned her gaze to the pond and the river beyond, tamping down the flutter of nerves. It wasn’t hard to do; she’d had a lot of practice. Despite the day’s unseasonable warmth, she zipped her sweatshirt up to her throat.
“The question is, what are you doing here, mister college man?”
“Pre-med now.”
He took the joint from her fingers and brought it to his lips. “This shit kills your brain cells, you know.”
“Too bad it doesn’t kill your memories.”
He took a deep drag and held the smoke in his lungs for several seconds, before releasing it in three short puffs. “I still keep trying.”
“Yeah.” She took the joint from him and filled her lungs with fire.
“I’m here for my parents. It’s a hard day for them. For all of us.”
Guilt prickled her skin. “How are they doing?”
“About how you’d expect.”
Hooking his arms around his knees, he gazed at the pond. His limbs were long, but no longer lanky. Blond stubble dusted his face. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
“I don’t know how you can stand to be here.”
“I can still feel her here,” she said. “
Remember playing Seekers? How she’d always hide in the Foil?”
“I never played with you guys. I was too old and way too cool,” he said with a small smile.
“You played with me plenty.” She waited until he met her gaze, understood her meaning. In the pale light his eyes looked more grey than blue. In fact, they were the colour of the river the day it swept Sara away.
Rather than back down, as she’d expected, he held her gaze. “Ditto.”
Uncomfortable, Eve tried to turn away, but he stopped her. Digging his fingers into her cheek, Leigh forced her gaze back to him.
“Stop ignoring me. We’re all we’ve got now.”
“Accomplices until the end,” she said.
Rather than reply, he took the joint from her and sucked the last of it. Leaning in, he touched his lips to hers. The sensation was achingly familiar, a memory with teeth, and she opened to receive him. He blew the smoke into her mouth. Before she could think to stop him, his hands were on her shoulders, and then skimming down her arms.
“Leigh,” she said, as close as she’d ever come to telling him no. The last of the smoke trickled from their mouths and dissipated, leaving no barrier between them.
He looked so much like Sara. It made her chest swell with aching grief.
Our hearts are joined together, always and forever.
He squeezed until her wrist bones ground together, making her eyes pop open.
“What’s this?”
He shoved up her sleeve, exposing the line of healing scabs that laddered up her arm.
“What the hell, Eve?” His face was inches away, and his breath smelled like pot and grief. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
She yanked her arm free. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Who else would understand?”
She pulled her sleeve down, staring sullenly at a passing tugboat on the river. It pulled a log boom, and the water spread in its wake in V-shaped ripples that lapped gently to shore. The boat’s engine groaned as it passed, like metal scraping rock.
“Do you believe in hell?”
He considered. “Well, that depends. Are you asking about the hell we’ve created here on earth, or the one where the devil jabs you with his pitchfork for all eternity?”
“I’m serious, Leigh.”
He shrugged. “I believe in things I can see. So, yes to the first one, and no to the second.”
“Since I was six or seven,” she told him, “I’ve had these recurring dreams where I’m sitting on this wooden bench, like a chairlift or something. There’s a metal bar holding me in place. But instead of going up to the top of a mountain, it’s going down into utter blackness. And I somehow know I’m riding into hell, and that the devil is waiting for me down there in his pit of fire, ready to eat my soul. And there’s no escape, no matter what I do.”
“Shit.”
“When I die, where do you think I’ll be going? We both know I don’t deserve those pearly gates.”
“Eve …”
“So to answer your question, no, I’m not trying to kill myself. I may have considered it once, but not now. I’m in no hurry to meet whatever’s waiting for me on the other side.”
They sat silently for several minutes. She stared at the river and Leigh hung his head toward his knees, appearing deep in thought.
“Well,” he finally said, “I guess I’ll see you there, then.”
“Accomplices in eternity.”
“At least we’ll be together.” His hand snaked toward her, palm up, and after a moment of hesitation she laid hers on top. His thumb traced the scar on her wrist, over and over, causing a strange tingling sensation to spread up her arm.
“Does Donna know you’re cutting yourself?”
Eve gave a mirthless laugh. “The real question is, would she care?”
He sighed, stroked her arm some more.
“You have no idea —” She heard how her voice trembled, and resolutely pushed back the flood that threatened to drown her. “No idea what it’s like around here now. The way people look at me.”
“You haven’t told anybody, right?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“We’ll make it through this,” he said.
She searched his face, and saw that he really believed his words to be true. “But there’s no we. You’re not around anymore.”
“It’s temporary. I promised you that. I’m coming back once I’ve got my degree.”
“So you’ve said.”
“And you said you’d wait for me. Are you?”
She took a deep breath, feeling the trap he’d laid around her heart. “Of course I am.”
“Good.” He squeezed her hand, and then let it go to reach inside his coat. He handed her a small package wrapped in white tissue. “Happy birthday.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
Her hands trembled as she ripped the paper and lifted the lid of the jewellery box. Lying on a bed of white cotton was a dainty silver chain with a diamond-encrusted letter S that curled like a snake.
“Oh.” Her eyes filled with tears, and the diamond fragments became a kaleidoscope of accusatory daggers. It was really just diamond dust; all she’d been able to afford.
“It was Sara’s,” he said.
“I know.” Her hands shook too much to pick up the necklace. “I gave it to her.”
“Here, let me help you.”
He plucked it from the box and strung it around Eve’s neck. The chain was short, made for a young girl. It cut into the base of her throat, strangling her with her own guilt. He fumbled with the tiny clasp, and when it closed he pressed his lips softly against the back of her neck.
He lingered there, breathing against her, letting her feel the press of his teeth and the damp of his tears. “Just you and me, right?”
“Right,” she said, tears spilling hot down her cheeks.
Before returning home for cake and a Golden Girls marathon, she cleaned herself by the pond, shivering at the bite of icy water on raw flesh. Then she picked her way through the mud and marsh grass to the river. She stood on a log that was slippery and green with life, and watched the water lap at the rocks below. The wind picked up, stinging her cheeks and drying her eyes.
She reached for the silver charm digging into her throat, and yanked. The necklace sparkled in the dying light for just a moment before she let go. Rubbing at the welt on her throat, she watched it splash and disappear beneath the slate surface.
Feeling lighter, she turned for home.
FIFTEEN
BUTTON CLOSED THE LID of the toilet seat and sat down. Though it wasn’t much past dinnertime, her hair was pinned up for bed, and she was wrapped in the flowered robe she’d had for as long as Eve could remember.
“I hope Hector is able to sell your paintings. Between the medical bills and all the hot water you’ve been using …”
“It’s the only time I feel warm.” She slid deeper into the tub so soap bubbles popped against her chin. The heat tickled her skin into goose bumps, and, not for the first time, she felt grateful that Button had stopped Donna from modernizing the house. The claw-foot tub was a lifesaver.
“I know.” Button gave her granddaughter a sad smile.
“And I’m not kvetching —”
Eve laughed. “Oh, you’re not?”
“Well, I shouldn’t be. I’m so grateful to have you home, my Frida. Even if …”
“Even if all you got back were broken pieces?” Under the water, she ran a hand over the ridges of scars that marked her belly and breasts.
Wiping at her eyes, Button forced a smile. “I’m afraid we’re all nothing but broken pieces in the end.”
“Wow, Grandma. Thanks for the pep talk.”
Button’s lips twitched. “The truth is rarely cheerful.”
“That’s why I don’t like it.”
Button sighed. “Then you won’t like what I have to say.”
“Is it about the art sho
w? I know you don’t like those new paintings.”
“But I hope others do,” Button said. “No, it’s not about that. It’s about Leigh.”
“Then I don’t think you’ll like what I’m going to say, either.”
“You’ve already said yes?”
She nodded, tears pricking her eyes. “Can’t you be happy for me?”
“There’s just something about that boy,” Button said.
“What?”
“I’m not sure. But I don’t think marrying him is a good idea.”
“I love him.”
“Perhaps you do,” Button said. “But that’s not enough.”
“You’ve never liked him.”
“Eve, I know what lies between you two —”
She sat up, causing water and soap bubbles to roll over the edge of the tub in a tidal wave. “No you don’t.”
Grabbing a towel, Button said her name in a warning tone.
“Nobody knows!”
“All right.” Button’s voice shook with the effort to remain calm. “You’re right. I don’t know everything, or maybe even almost anything. But I know enough to be concerned. To be concerned for you, my granddaughter.”
Slightly mollified, she sank back into the warm water. “There’s no need to be worried.”
“I understand the temptation to be with him. He was Sara’s brother. And umglik bindt tsunoif — misfortune binds together. But building a relationship on tragedy isn’t healthy.”
“No one else understands what I’ve been through.” She ran her hands along her scars. “I don’t mean just the accident, but before that, too. Yes, Sara … and other things. And maybe he doesn’t understand everything either, but he comes the closest.”
“When did it start?”
“When did what start?”
Button’s face darkened with suspicion, and her voice shook with emotion. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You and Leigh.”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Were you two …” It was the great unasked question and, as always, Button stopped before it was fully formed.
“I can’t believe you’d ask me that. What do you take me for?”
“You’ve never dated anyone else, as far as I know.”
The Day She Died Page 8