Reckless Memories

by Catherine Cowles

  “Guys, stop. I can handle Lacey. And I can handle Mom and Dad.”

  Violet looked back at me. “By hiding away and making Mom so mad, it looks like she’s going to explode?”

  I let my head fall against the wall of the tree house. “Okay, that might not have been my best plan.”

  “You think?”

  Annoyance made pinpricks dance across my skin. “I can’t just go along with whatever they want like you do. I’m not built that way. They should be happy they have one perfect daughter and let me go my own way.”

  Violet’s eyes widened as if I had struck her. She even fought perfectly. Never raised her voice, simply let her hurt shine through, making me feel as if I’d kicked a defenseless puppy. “I’m not perfect,” she whispered.

  “Damn near. Close enough,” I grumbled.

  Ford sat up, shifting towards Violet, and I immediately felt the loss of his presence. His warmth, his comfort, his strength. “All right, ladies, you’re both perfect in my eyes, but let’s focus on what’s truly important right now…food.”

  His statement startled a laugh out of me. “Food?”

  “Yup.” He patted his stomach. “I just had to sit through a meal of ridiculously fancy rabbit food that maybe filled an eighth of my stomach, and Trouble hasn’t had any dinner at all. What do you say I take my ladies to The Catch for some greasy goodness?”

  “I don’t know, Ford, my parents—” Violet stopped speaking at Ford’s look and then started again. “I’ll talk to them.”

  I bumped my sister’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  Vi shook her head but gave a small smile and then scooted towards the opening. “You guys meet me at the car. It’ll probably go over smoother if I talk to them alone.”

  This was the sister I missed, the one who was always on my side even if she didn’t understand where I was coming from. “Hey, sissy?” She looked back at me. “I love you the mostest.”

  “Love you the mosterest.” She winked as she disappeared down the ladder.

  Ford stood, and I followed, carefully making our way down the side of the tree. When we reached the bottom, I saw that it was starting to rain, one of those perfect summer storms. We dashed to Ford’s SUV and jumped in. He glanced over at me. “She just wants the best for you. You know that, right?”

  I dug my fingernails into my palms. “I know. It’s just exhausting sometimes.”

  “What is?”

  “Living in someone else’s shadow.”

  Ford reached over and squeezed my knee. “It’s impossible for you to live in someone’s shadow, Iz. You shine way too damn bright. You’re both your own unique brand of perfect.”

  That familiar warmth lit in me again. When the world made you feel dull, it was such a gift to have someone who thought you shined.

  The back door opened, and the spell was broken. Ford released his hold on me and turned to face Violet, who slid into the backseat. “I face the parentals for you, and you steal shotgun?”

  I let out a laugh. “Hey. You snooze, you lose.” I pressed my lips together. “They’re letting us go?”

  “After some convincing. You’re on dish duty for a month.”

  I sighed. “Could be worse.”

  Ford turned the key in the ignition, flipping on the windshield wipers and then backing out of the driveway. “Hopefully, this rain means people will stay home, and we won’t have to wait long for a table.”

  There weren’t a lot of restaurant options on an island of fifteen hundred people, and The Catch Bar & Restaurant was a local favorite. “Ford, your family owns the place, I really don’t think we’ll have to wait.”

  He chuckled. “If my dad’s working, he’ll make sure every paying customer gets seated before us.”

  “I think it’s nice how committed your dad is to giving everyone great service,” Violet said.

  Ford snorted. “Nice, except when I’m starving. Remind me to eat before I come to one of your parents’ shindigs again.”

  “I’ll make sure to pack you a snack next time.”

  Ford grinned into the rearview mirror. “I love you, babe.”

  Their banter and the pet names had my stomach churning. I tried to tune them out, to get lost in the rain streaking down my window and the forest zooming past as we skirted the island. A flash of something appeared in the corner of my vision. “Ford!”

  The deer launched itself into the road as Ford slammed on the brakes. Everything slowed. Moments marked by heartbeats between breaths. The SUV spun towards the cliff. I lost all sense of direction. Another vehicle’s horn blared. Headlights flashed. Someone screamed. It might’ve been me, but I couldn’t be sure.

  There was a deafening crunch, and then blinding pain. Fire seemed to lick my skin, but there were no flames, only shattered glass and twisted metal. I tried to keep my breaths shallow, it seemed to help the burning. “Sissy? Ford?” There was no answer.

  I twisted in my seat, the panic fighting off the pain. “Ford?”

  His head was slumped at an unnatural angle, and my heart seemed to ricochet around in my chest. “No, please no.” I reached out a shaky hand, pressing two fingers to his neck. The steady thump against the pads of my fingertips was the best feeling I’d ever experienced.

  “Isabelle?” I turned at the hoarse sound of Violet’s voice. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the blood coating the side of her face.

  “I’m here.” I reached back to grab her hand, the action causing fire to blaze along my ribs. I cried out.

  “I feel funny.”

  “It’s going to be okay.” Sirens sounded in the distance. That was good. That meant help. “Vi, what hurts?” There was no answer, and my gaze shot back to my sister. “Vi!” Her eyes fluttered. “You have to stay awake, Violet.” That’s what they always said in those medical dramas.

  Her eyes opened, but her body seemed to go rigid, as if she were having a small seizure. And then…nothing. Silence but for the far-off sirens and the pounding of the rain. Silence as my sister stared back at me, eyes unnaturally wide and unblinking. Silence as I watched my sister slip from this Earth.

  1

  Bell

  PRESENT

  “Don’t you feel so much better starting your day like this?” Caelyn beamed as she rolled up her yoga mat.

  Kenna scowled down at her own mat. “I’m not sure how twisting yourself into a pretzel is supposed to help you find inner peace.”

  I stifled a laugh. “It makes her happy to give us these classes, so just roll with it.” I liked yoga just fine, but I loved how happy these mornings made Caelyn. It didn’t hurt that we held the sessions in a park overlooking one of Anchor Island’s most gorgeous beaches. The expanse of grass where we placed our mats dipped and rolled until it met up with a rocky shoreline, the coast ebbing and flowing from gray beaches to craggy cliffsides. The salty sea air that drifted in was a balm to any wound.

  “I don’t even work up a sweat,” Kenna groused.

  Caelyn wrapped an arm around Kenna, making her bristle. “Not everything is about pushing your body to its breaking point. But, trust me, your muscles are getting stronger because of this practice, and so is your spirit.”

  “Sure, sure, oh Zen one.” Kenna shrugged off Caelyn’s arm and went back to rolling up her mat, making sure the edges were perfectly even before placing it in her bag.

  I pinched her butt, and she squealed, whirling on me. I shrugged with a grin. “Serves you right for being so grumpy.”

  “I’m not grumpy. I’m just stressed.”

  I eased myself down onto the grass to roll up my own mat. “What’s going on?” I gave her hand a little tug when she didn’t answer.

  Kenna sighed but sat, Caelyn doing the same. “One of the accountants from the Shelter Island office is out on medical leave, and I agreed to take on a handful of her clients. It’s more work than I thought it would be.”

  Caelyn and I shared a look, but Kenna held up a hand before we could say anything. “I don’t wa
nt to hear it.”

  I gave her my most angelic smile. “What? That you work too hard? That you’re going to give yourself an ulcer? That you have no life?”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “Some friend you are.”

  “Real friends speak the truth.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s only for another month or two.”

  Caelyn reached over and squeezed Kenna’s knee. “Just let me know what I can do to help. I can do the grocery shopping for you and Harriet when I go for myself and the tiny terrors.”

  Kenna’s expression gentled, and she shook her head. “You’ve got enough on your plate. I can handle this.”

  Both my friends had more than their fair share on their respective plates because while they appeared as different as night and day—Kenna with her sleek brown hair and perfectly styled athleisure outfit, and Caelyn with her wrists full of mismatched bracelets and hair in a wild pile atop her head—they were more similar than anyone would’ve guessed. They gave and gave and gave some more. Kenna caring for the woman who’d raised her from the age of eleven when Kenna’s own mother couldn’t be bothered with the responsibility. And Caelyn giving up college and her dreams to come back to the island to raise her siblings when they had been removed from her parents’ custody.

  I slapped my hands down on my knees. “Ladies, divide and conquer. I’ve got grocery shopping for both of you this month. Email me your lists on Tuesdays.” I turned to Kenna. “If Harriet has any doctors’ appointments, just make sure they’re in the morning, and I can take her.”

  Caelyn ran her hands over the lush grass beneath us. “And I can cook dinner for you and Harriet. Just swing by my place on your way home from work, and I’ll have some containers ready to go for you.”

  Kenna’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You guys are making me feel like a slacker.”

  “Oh, please.” Caelyn waved a hand in front of her face. “Says the girl who’s done my taxes for free every year since you graduated.”

  “That’s nothing—”

  “It’s not nothing.” Caelyn cut her off. “It’s friends helping however they can.” She looked from Kenna to me, her eyes misting. “It’s what we do, right?”

  “Damn straight.” I pushed to my feet and reached out a hand to each of the women who were more like sisters than friends. Women who had seen me through my darkest days and walked alongside me through it all. “Now that we’ve got everything settled, I need to get home so I can shower before I get started on inventory at the bar.” The scar tissue along my ribs pulled as I dragged the girls to their feet. I ignored it and the reminder the twinge brought.

  I gave them both quick hugs and headed for my car. The ocean breeze caught my hair, the blond strands blowing in my face. I pulled them back, capturing them in a quick topknot before climbing behind the wheel.

  Pulling out, I rolled my window down as I guided my car through the winding island roads, needing another hit of the sea air. Anchor Island was a small place, with less than two thousand people in the off-season. If you’d lived here for longer than a year, you knew just about everyone. It was both a blessing and a curse.

  When I’d left for college with Caelyn and Kenna, I’d sworn never to return. Now, I knew never to make vows like that because the Universe was a fickle creature, and she liked to make you eat those kinds of promises. With three kids under her care, Caelyn had needed all the help she could get, so as soon as Kenna and I graduated, we’d headed straight back to Anchor.

  The Hardys, looking out for me like always, had offered me a job at The Catch, as well as the apartment over the bar. I’d been there ever since. Having them made me feel like I hadn’t lost it all that summer night over a decade ago. And I liked helping them as much as I could, even if it meant setting aside my own dreams for the moment.

  I’d been pulling double shifts since Frank’s stroke last year. Trying to cover as much ground as I could so that Hunter, the brother who hadn’t abandoned his family in their time of need, was still able to run his construction business, and Kara wasn’t worried to death about both her husband and the bar.

  Hunter had told me that he was working on getting me some help, but I had no idea where he would find it. We simply didn’t have the budget to hire someone to work enough hours to make a real difference. I turned onto Main Street and grinned. Shopkeepers were out in full force today doing spring prep: filling planters, touching up paint, anything to attract those tourist dollars.

  The mixture of craftsman, Victorian, and old-timey brick buildings was only one of the many things visiting folks loved about Anchor. However, the charm of downtown wasn’t lost on me either. The island might be a reminder of my most painful memories, but it also housed all my very best ones, too. And unlike other people in my life, I wasn’t willing to lose the good memories just to keep out reminders of the bad.

  I pulled into a reserved parking place at the back of the two-story brick building with The Catch painted in a large, artful white font on the side that was a stone’s throw from the rocky beach. I grabbed my bag from the passenger’s seat and headed for the staircase that climbed the stone facade. I really needed some twinkle lights or something fun for the stairs. I’d decorated my balcony with lights and plants, but the steps had no personality. I put it on my mental list to remedy that soon.

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open. Glancing at the large clock on the wall, I winced. I hurried through my shower but took time to blow-dry my hair, so I didn’t end up with pneumonia. That was the last thing I needed.

  I switched off the hair dryer, running my fingers through the soft waves that fell just past my shoulders, dusting along my collarbone and meeting up with the blossom-filled vines that curved around one shoulder. I pressed my palm against one of the violet blossoms that arose from an especially vicious scar. I squeezed my eyes closed. “Miss you, sissy.”

  I thought of her almost every day, but it was especially strong around birthdays and anniversaries. And tomorrow was the day we should’ve been celebrating with her favorite ice cream cake from Two Scoops.

  I took a deep breath, opening my eyes, making myself take in my appearance, forcing myself to look at the scars. They were beautiful in their own way. I’d made them that way, designing tattoos that didn’t cover the scars but wove around them. Images that honored my sister and me. Magical vines that sprouted violets and bluebells.

  The process had taken weeks. Painful hours on a bed in a tattoo shop in Seattle. But it had been worth it. Because when I looked at my body now, I didn’t just see pain. I remembered my sister and how much we had loved each other, even if we had been as different as night and day. I pressed my palm harder against the violet that lay just above my heart. I wished we would’ve had a chance to rediscover the closeness we’d had when we were younger.

  I broke my stare with the mirror and headed for my bedroom. I pulled clothes from a dresser I’d picked up at a garage sale for ten bucks and refurbished. There was almost nothing in my space that didn’t hold meaning. I’d spent too many years in a house that held so little of it. I wanted my home to be an extension of me. That typically came from pouring sweat equity into each piece of furniture and decorating my space with photos, personal art, and plants.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans and a worn tee that hugged my curves. Slipping on a pair of boots, I was ready to go. I reached for my phone to check the time, but it wasn’t in its usual spot on the dresser. Shit. I must’ve left it in the car.

  I grabbed my keys and headed for the back door. As I pulled it open, my steps faltered, the sight in front of me a sucker punch in the same way it was every year. I bent down to pick up the bouquet of violets and the envelope. I inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of the blooms wrapping around me, both painful and a comfort.

  I slipped a finger under the seal and carefully ripped it open, wondering what memory I’d get this year. There was never a note, only a bouquet of violets and a copy of an old photo of my sister. I had no idea w
ho brought them, but I’d gotten them every year since Violet’s death, always sometime the week of her birthday. For a couple of years, I’d thought it was Ford, his way of comforting me from afar, but I’d given up on that silly hope and started to just appreciate the gesture for what it was. Marking a life that had meant so much to me. Honoring all the memories she’d left behind.

  I pulled out the glossy paper and let out a strangled laugh. The photo was one of my favorites from the memorial website my parents had created for Vi. It had been taken after Violet and I had worked on an art project in the back yard. My mother had given us each an old shirt of my father’s to wear as a smock. Violet’s had two or three small smears of paint. Mine, on the other hand? It was covered in every color of the rainbow. There was even paint on my face and in my hair. It was so perfectly…us.

  A pang hit my heart, a crack of energy that was both agony and gratitude. That potent mixture almost brought me to my knees. I clutched the photo to my chest and took a deep breath. I had to trust that Vi knew the truth, that I desperately missed her, even though we hadn’t been in the best place as sisters when she died. I needed to trust that wherever Violet was, she knew that I loved her.

  2

  Ford

  “Hey, Ford!” The girl who called out over the pounding bass looked vaguely familiar. A model maybe? Or an up-and-coming actress?

  “Hey, babe.” She batted her eyes, but I kept moving through the bar towards my office. I wound my way through the sea of bodies, careful to avoid tipsy partygoers with precariously balanced drinks.

  I pushed open the door to my office, and when it shut behind me, I leaned against it, a whoosh of air expelling from my lungs. Silence. Blessed silence. The choice to soundproof this room had been so worth it.

  I pushed off the door and cracked my neck. I was getting too old for this shit. It might be time to move from hands-on management of my bars and clubs to simply startup. Let someone else deal with the headaches of the day-to-day. Maybe I’d take off and travel for a bit. Go visit all my friends, who seemed to have fled Los Angeles over the past couple of years.