Deep Blue Eternity

by Natasha Boyd

  I needed to see. Picking up the stack, I wasn’t sure I was at the beginning. The first picture, dated from the look of the print quality and the hairstyles, was of a party it seemed, outside. I tried to identify the people, but I didn’t recognize anyone; her dad maybe, but he was young. A teenager.

  Then I looked past the assembled group where there was an open sliding door in the brick house behind, the curtains billowing out. Two people were wrapped around each other; the guy in a green Hawaiian shirt, his khaki shorts lowered, stood between a girl’s tanned legs. She was young. Her light blue dress was shoved up to her waist. An insanely intimate moment between two people caught on camera, by accident. They were clearly in the middle of having sex. He was dark headed; she was blonde. Not really understanding, I flipped to the next. It was a blow up of the previous picture, and I stilled. The hair, the tilt of her head. Her half smile. It was Abby.

  Except it wasn’t.

  Oh my God.

  Bile rose in my gut.

  This was Liv and Abby’s mother, and the man having sex with her was her own brother. Mike Williams. I dropped the pictures, thinking to get to Olivia, who was deadly quiet. Then through the many blowups of the same picture now scattered on the floor, I saw another photo. Abby, posed, sitting demurely on the edge of a chair, staring at someone past the lens of the camera with vacant eyes, in a light blue dress. The same light blue dress. A picture taken at another time. Was it a re-enactment? Christ. Nausea rolled. Had he made Livvy dress up too?

  I picked up the pictures, hands shaking in shock, and stuffed them back in the box.

  Livvy. I jogged to the bathroom, but she wasn’t there.

  “Liv?” I called and looked around the empty cottage.

  Prince Eric was perched on the back of the sofa. “Liv,” I shouted.

  No wonder their grandmother never spoke to her daughter. She must have found out; perhaps she was the one who’d taken the picture. Jesus, did Livvy’s dad know? He couldn’t. There was no way Mike Williams would have been that involved in their lives if he did, surely. Was what had happened to Abby a result of Mike’s obsession with a young Susan Williams?

  And when he couldn’t have Abby…

  “Livvy!”

  I burst out of the front door and headed to the porch stairs.

  “Here.” Her small voice came from my right where she was curled up on the wicker loveseat.

  I exhaled in relief. I went to her and picked her up, pulling her into my lap as I sat down.

  She burrowed into my neck. Her body was curled up tight, and I cradled her in my arms.

  “You smell so good,” she said, inhaling against my skin. “You always smell so good. Everything is better when I can smell you.”

  “God, Liv, are you okay?”

  She nodded. A minuscule movement against me.

  I thought about Abby’s refusals to tell her parents. “It always confused me when Abby said it wasn’t about her. I guess I get it now,” I said. Although, no. Not really. How could anyone ever “get” something so heinous? Was her mother’s and Mike’s relationship even consensual? And how long did it last? I shuddered. “My God, all the times he told you that you reminded him of her. He meant your mother, not Abby.”

  “I just… my mother, God.” Her body quaked, her tone one of horror.

  “How much older is Mike?”

  She swallowed. “Six or seven years, I’m really not sure.”

  “So he’s a sick perverted fuck who had sex with his little sister and was clearly obsessed with her at that age, which is why he went for Abby.” And then you, I didn’t add the obvious. How would anyone ever get the logic of such a sick and twisted mind?

  “Do you think my mom knew he did that to us?” she asked achingly, and my heart shattered in my chest.

  “I don’t know, Livvy.” Because, truthfully, I didn’t. The idea was abhorrent and devastating.

  And not entirely impossible.

  She broke apart then, shuddering and sobbing into me as I held her, trying to keep her body together while my head and my heart screamed in silent agony and fury.

  WE STAYED LIKE that, with Liv curled against my chest for a long time. The sun moved across the sky, and the shadows lengthened across the ground. A breeze picked up and stirred the moss that hung from the trees and danced on the swing beneath the oak.

  “I have to go back, don’t I?” she said finally. “I need to go back.”

  Smoothing my hand down her back, I knew she was already sure of what she had to do.

  “I need to go beg my school counselor to let me take the state test and graduate, or get a GED. And I need to confront my mother and… probably break my father’s heart.”

  I winced, though she couldn’t see me. If I could take that burden for her, I would.

  “And you can’t come with me, can you?” she asked.

  “I could.” I would, for Liv.

  “Do you want to see your parents again? I mean, could you now?”

  I exhaled. “My mother has tried to contact me. Sent a few letters through a lawyer in Savannah. I sent them back.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I never opened them.” I shrugged in a display of fake nonchalance.

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  I was tense. My instinct was to shut this conversation down, but I owed Livvy an answer. “The hurt I feel over what they did will never go away. I used to dream about going back, that it was all a big mistake. But now I don’t think I care if I never see them again. Maybe that makes me mentally unhealthy. Sometimes you realize that people’s priorities will always be weighed against you, and to try and change them is emotional suicide.”

  Liv swallowed heavily, and I knew she understood the concept. I hoped it didn’t apply to her when she went back.

  “I didn’t touch a cent of the money they gave me for years. Until I realized that it would be stupid not to use it to give myself a chance at a normal life in spite of them. That’s why I enrolled in college.”

  “And bought a boat.”

  I smirked. “Yeah. And bought a boat. But I used my own hard earned cash for that.”

  What I didn’t mention was that I’d also taken care of Liv’s hospital bills. I figured my parents owed her. Not knowing what she’d say about that, especially because of where the money came from, I knew I should wait on that bombshell. Not for long, though. From now on, there would always be truth between us. But we’d had enough for one day.

  She shifted in my arms, resting her celestine eyes on me. “You could have become bitter and twisted after what they did. But you haven’t.”

  “So could you.”

  “I was. Don’t you remember me when I first got here?”

  “You weren’t bitter. You were broken. You were hurting. There’s a difference. Your heart was always beautiful, Liv. And my parents let you down too. You and Abby.”

  “They’re fools,” Liv said, huskily. “If I’m ever lucky enough to have a son one day, I want him to be just like you.”

  I buried my face in the top of her head and closed my eyes.

  The day was fading as we sat on the porch in the embrace of the cottage. The place where we’d both found sanctuary. The place where we had begun to heal, even though that was by no means done. For either of us. The place where we’d found each other.

  I finally understood why life had happened to me the way it had, with all its twists and turns, and all its pain. Even why I’d known Abby.

  So I could be here.

  So I could love Livvy.

  She was my deep blue eternity.

  She was young, but her heart was a thousand years old. Mine was too. And a thousand years from now, she’d still be in it.

  Dearest sweet Livvy,

  You are sunshine. My sunshine. I never tell you that, but you are! I know I’ve been the worst and grumpiest big sister lately, and you think I don’t like you anymore, or I think you’re boring. I don’t.

  There’s been some
crazy stuff going on that I can’t tell you about. But I need to get away. Whit’s going to help me. He’s so wonderful, Liv. He’s amazing. I know Mom and Dad don’t like him because they think he’s a party boy and isn’t taking his future seriously. But he’s different than everyone sees him, and he loves me. We’re running away together! Doesn’t that sound romantic and exciting? You’ve been wondering where I’ve been the last few weeks, right? Well, I’m going to the cottage on Daufuskie Island. That’s where I’ll probably be when you read this.

  I’m planning to call you and tell you about this letter after I’ve been gone a few weeks, hopefully then you won’t feel like you need to show Mom and Dad.

  You won’t be reading it right after I’ve left when everyone is all surprised and in shock and you’ll want to help. And I know you’ll want to help because you’re a good girl like that, Livvy.

  But this time, I need you to help me. Can you do that? Are you reading this right now and thinking you should show it to Mom and Dad? Please don’t. I wish I could tell you everything, and I will, but I can’t right now, okay?

  Some yucky, horrid things happened, and I was a part of them. Whit says we should just go away for a while, somewhere safe, and see if we can work out a way to sort it out.

  I know when we get to the cottage I won’t want to come back. My hope is you can come too when you’re ready. Remember how much fun we had with Gran every summer, catching fireflies, digging for crabs, being muddy and tired every night so she had to spray us down outside with the hose? Weren’t those the best times? Do you even remember them? I’ll let you in on a secret. The cottage is ours! Gran left it to you and me. Just us. Can you imagine? We can have it to go to whenever we want. Mom and Dad hid it from us though. I think they wanted to sell it. I found all the papers in Mom’s room. So you can go to it whenever you want to. You’re a bit young now to go by yourself, and maybe that will be the thing that makes me come back. Maybe I’ll just come back to get you once I know what it’s going to be like there without Gran. I’ll make you grilled cheese sandwiches with extra butter whenever you like! Won’t it be fun?

  Anyway, there’s something else that’s really important. Remember the horrid, yucky things I talked about that I can’t tell you? Well, they have to do with Uncle Mike. I don’t know how to explain it so you would understand. Well anyway, I found something else when I found out about the cottage, and I need to keep it somewhere super safe.

  Do you remember how you dug up that Indian Head penny in the woods near Bloody Point that one summer, and both Gran and I kept trying to convince you to put it in a jar so you wouldn’t lose it? You didn’t listen to us did you? But you never lost it. It’s hanging on that leather string on the edge of your mirror right now, isn’t it? See? You are so careful!

  My sweet Livvy. I’m trusting you with this box. It’s locked, and I have the key, so you can’t open it. Not that you would if I asked you not to, would you, Livvy?

  I’ll get it back from you when I come back, okay? Just keep it safe, and hide it from Mom and Dad. You must! They won’t think to look in your room. It’s really important that you don’t open it because unless I’m there to explain, you may not understand what you’re seeing, or you will and that could be way worse.

  I haven’t even told Whit. Please don’t open it. Please. Please. Please. If I can’t be there with you to explain, I just can’t even imagine. It hurts my heart. Please don’t okay?

  Okay?

  I love you, my sweet little mermaid sister with eyes as light as air. Where did those eyes come from? Do you remember Gran’s answer? They must have caught the edge of a wisp of cloud as you sailed down from heaven.

  Forever, your sister,

  Abby

  P.S. Love is a wonderful thing. It’s not painful like we read about in those fairy stories. It’s beautiful and light. I hope you find your own Whit one day who will show you love and save you when you need saving.

  Dearest Abby,

  I know I’m writing a letter you can never read and perhaps in some way you already know what’s in my heart.

  In the midst of so much despair and anger, I managed to find something so beautiful, so transcendent that there’s no reason to try and put it into words. It would be impossible. Look into my heart, then you’ll see. Can you see it? The light that’s burning so brightly in there, it threatens, some days, to swallow me whole.

  It’s love, Abby. That glowing part of me that reaches so high nothing seems impossible and runs so deep that it’s woven into the very fabric of my being.

  He’s my soul and I am his.

  Do you know where I am writing this from? Where I always wanted to visit, ever since I was a little girl? Of course you do. Copenhagen. To see the famous sculpture of Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Mermaid carved by Edvard Eriksen. She is so small, but so beautiful. I am writing this as I wait for Tom to come back with our coffees, and then we will walk down the Langelinie Promenade toward the small statue in the main harbor, where I will set this letter to sail. He’s going to propose to me, Abby. And, of course, I will say yes.

  We have been dealing with a lot the last few years. The fallout of what was done to you and me. We are almost through it, I think. We’ve gotten some kind of justice, but nothing will ever be just.

  Dad never knew, but I bet you understand that now from where your eyes can see. But Mom did. About you, anyway. No wonder it was too hard for you to stay here. I blamed you for leaving me with him. And after I learned what you did, how you tried to take Tom with you, I was even angrier. How could you? I thought.

  But I was so tired of being angry.

  And then I thought about something. I thought about all the times I’ve felt you close by and I know now you were trying to make it right and give me something good, to lead Tom and me to each other. How we never would have found each other if I hadn’t needed to run. I understood that too. And I knew it was time to forgive you.

  I forgive you, Abby. And more than forgiving, I must thank you.

  Thank you, Abby.

  All I can promise you, in return, is that I will never be parted from him again, that you will never have to be kept from the peace your soul so richly deserves.

  I love you, Abby.

  Livvy

  Special thanks to the University of Southern Denmark http://www.andersen.sdu.dk/ for permission to liberally use Jean Hersholt’s translations of Hans Christian Andersen’s works.

  1) Early on it is apparent Liv is handling stolen property in the form of prescription medication and using her parent’s credit card to buy a fake train ticket. Do you feel like this makes her dishonest or do her actions become justified?

  2) Who do you think left the box on the bed?

  3) Why do you think Liv never questions who Tom is after a certain time frame? Do you think she legitimately does not remember him, or do you believe she does not want to remember him?

  4) Liv tells Tom that the Cottage was never her home, Tom is. Do you believe her?

  5) There is a strong undertone of superstition conveyed on the island and talked about by Big Jake. Do you think Liv buys into it or do you think she attributes her odd experiences to her anxiety?

  6) Do you believe Tom when he says his attraction to Liv was never about Abby?

  7) Do you think Abby tried to reach Liv to warn her about Cal?

  8) Who or what do you think saved Abby from drowning?

  9) Do you think the mother’s relationship with her older brother was consensual?

  10) Who was the hero in this story? Abby, Tom, JJ, Liv or Prince Eric?

  Facebook Deep Blue Eternity Group

  Forty-four percent of rape victims are under the age of eighteen. Sixty percent of rapes are never reported to the police and in two thirds of the cases, the assault is committed by a person known to the victim. In the case of juvenile sexual assault victims, a U.S. Bureau of Justice statistics report showed that 34.2% of attackers were family members. And in a Commonwealth Fund repo
rt 1998, 12% (that is over 1 out of every 10 girls in the study) of girls between grades 9 and 12 (ages roughly 15 to 18) said they had been sexually abused.

  For help or more information, please visit RAINN, The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network https://www.rainn.org or call 1.800.656.HOPE.

  Readers! Oh my sweet readers! How I love you. Without you, this is all just a fantasy. Thank you for your continued support and generosity, and your patience! Thank you to my street team for all that you do to support me. I adore you all. And my street team admins, Lisa and Julie, there are not enough words to describe how much your friendship means to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Bloggers and reviewers… my thanks to you goes hand in hand with my thanks to readers above. Without you, readers would miss hundreds of must-read books! Thank you for your tireless labors of love. Natasha Tomic of Natasha is a Book Junkie, and Aestas - thank you for always supporting me. Thank you, Vilma of Vilma’s Book Blog, The Book Bellas, Globug and Hootie, Totally Booked, and so many more than have been incredibly supportive. I want to list you all, but I’m too scared of missing someone by accident. Just know there is never a mention of my books by you that goes unappreciated by me. Your support means the world to me. And readers, if you’re reading this, please go give your favorite bloggers some love.

  There are so many people to thank, as always. Most importantly, my husband and two boys for letting Mommy do her dream job even when it interferes with afterschool and dinner, and weekends, and vacations, and sports games, and, and, and… You all are the best, and I’m so lucky to have you as my cheerleaders. Stephen, I’m the luckiest woman in the world to be married to you. Thank you, Mom, for helping out and watching the boys so I can write, or go to book signings. And for being proud of me! Your approval and encouragement means so much to me. Thank you. And thanks LDIII for the beautiful view of Smith Mountain Lake I got to look at while I typed the final works to this book. And to the Kennedy’s who watched our kids so we could go and spend more time on Daufuskie Island.