by Meg Collett
Finally, she went inside and sat down in front of the album she’d closed earlier in the week. She picked it up and brushed off some dust before she opened the book, pausing at the picture of Lila and Florence in front of her house. She avoided looking at her grandmother, her focus solely on Lila.
It was clear where Kyra got her beauty. Her mother was stunning, even at a young age. She probably had boys chasing her and ogling her all the time. Kyra wondered if Lila had accepted their advances or if she’d wanted to focus on other things like Kyra had.
She couldn’t help but wonder if it was men that drove her mother to drugs and eventually to suicide.
Kyra flipped to the next page, studying her mother’s baby picture. She was a cute baby, but it didn’t tell Kyra much about her mother’s character. She turned the page to see a laughing Garlan standing beside a young Lila in a ballet outfit. She was leggy with big teeth, laughing and twirling with her hands above her head.
Carefree. Happy. Loving life.
Kyra slapped the book shut, her eyes stinging with tears. She didn’t understand what had happened to her mother or how her seemingly perfect life had turned so sour. Kyra would always be on the outside looking in, and she was destined to never fully know her mother’s struggles. All the people who had known about Lila’s life refused to even acknowledge her, as if she’d never existed—as if her life was worthless.
Looking at all the books around her, she counted at least twenty. It would take her a long time to go through them if she could look at only one picture at a time. That would never work.
“Maybe it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid,” Kyra mused. She picked up the book and flipped to a new page. It was her mom at a dance recital, wearing the same outfit.
Kyra took a deep breath and flipped the pages, letting herself see the pictures without feeling them. All the pictures were of her mother at a young age, growing up, finding herself.
Or losing herself. However she wanted to see it.
Kyra sat the book behind her on the window seat. One down, she thought. She felt hollow and aching. Rising from the floor, she called it a night. One album a day wasn’t so bad. She could handle that.
She ignored the film of tears blurring her vision as she walked back to her room. Her gaze went to the bathroom and the medicine cabinet. She knew what was inside, what was waiting for her if she needed it bad enough. She picked at the stack of bracelets on her wrist, her finger finding the raised scars hidden beneath.
She was saved from making a bad decision when her cell phone rang. She walked over to where it was charging and saw the call was from Aunt Carol. She picked it up and answered.
“Hello?”
“Kyra!”
She knew from her aunt’s tone that she was in trouble. She was confused for a moment before she remembered her talk with Mrs. Walker yesterday. Rolling her eyes, Kyra said, “I take it you talked to Florence.”
“Yes, I did, and I raised you better than the cuss out old ladies.”
“I didn’t cuss her out.” Kyra sat down on her bed. “I just cursed while talking to her. That’s different.”
“Well, Florence is very upset, and so is your Uncle Thomas. I told you when you moved down there that you would need to avoid Florence. She’s not the person you want to be enemies with.”
“I really don’t care what she thinks of me.”
“Kyra! She’s your grandmother!” Aunt Carol sounded as shocked as Mrs. Walker had. Kyra didn’t understand these women.
“She gave up that right when she disowned my mom and me.”
“Now, Kyra…”
“Look, Aunt Carol. I don’t really want to talk about this tonight. I’m exhausted.”
After she said her goodbyes, Kyra hung up the phone. Her eyes shifted back to the medicine cabinet, but she forced herself to look away. She didn’t need that tonight. She was okay.
She was okay.
nine
Monday morning rolled around, and Kyra woke. She sat up in bed, pushing her sleep mask onto her forehead and mussing her hair. The quietness throughout the house was still disorientating, even after a weekend of silence. Kyra looked around her room and felt truly alone for the first time since she’d moved to the island.
Forcing herself to get out of bed and out of her slump, she went about her morning, keeping to her typical schedule. She threw in a longer workout than was necessary, but she had a lot of anxiety to burn off. She couldn’t help it; she was still worried about Hale.
A knock sounded on her door before lunch. Kyra picked her way down the stairs and crossed over the expanse of tools and dropcloths. She wasn’t surprised when she opened the door and saw Cade.
“Hey,” she said, her voice quiet. She stepped back and invited him in, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. He looked miserable. Dark circles stained the skin under his eyes, which were red and irritated. Even his hands shook slightly as he raked them through his hair.
“Hi,” he sighed and looked around the house like he was lost.
“How are you doing?”
“I am okay. He will be let out on bail in a few hours. I wanted to come by here before I picked him up.”
Kyra pulled Cade into a hug. He looked so confused and hurt, and the pauses before his words were more prolonged than normal from stress. “He’s going to be okay. Lots of people go to jail in their lives.”
Cade shook his head when he stepped back. “Not Hale. He has had some trouble…” He stumbled over the word. “…Trouble in his past. This kind of thing finds him.”
Kyra frowned. She wanted to ask Cade what had happened in Hale’s past, but she didn’t want to pry. “He does have an image in this town,” she said instead.
Cade ran his hand over his face. “He is not a bad guy, but everyone in this town judges him anyway. I wish he would take off and make a clean break somewhere else, but he won’t. I know Friday night made him look like a bad guy, but he is really not like that.”
“Why did he react like that? I’ve never seen him so angry.” Not that Kyra had known him for long, even though she’d seen him angry plenty of times before. But Friday night at the bar had been an entirely new level of angry.
“When we were kids, I was bullied a lot.” Cade took a deep breath, like he was fortifying himself against the painful memories. “I had a pretty bad stutter, and the other kids would call me names or knock me around a bit. We were just in elementary school and then later, middle school, but Hale became really protective. He would run all the mean kids off with just a glare, but sometimes he would hit them. He got into so much trouble. I think it all started back then, and it has followed him around ever since. Last night when that guy from our high school got in my face and made fun of the way I talk, it just set Hale off. He lost it.”
“That sounds awful, Cade. I’m so sorry you went through that.” Kyra had thought from previous conversations with Cade that Hale had been the one to be bullied, but now she understood. Hale’s behavior made a little more sense.
“I’m sorrier for Hale.”
“Well,” Kyra said, “can I get you anything to drink? I have warm bottles of water.” Her laugh was weak, but she tried.
“No.” Cade’s eyes flitted around the room again. “But thank you. I just wanted to drop by and tell you work would resume tomorrow. And…and I wanted to apologize for Hale. I hope he did not scare you.”
“Oh, gosh no!” Kyra said quickly. “You don’t have to apologize for him, Cade. And he certainly didn’t scare me. If I’d known what was happening, I probably would’ve punched that guy too.”
Cade’s smile was faint. “I appreciate that.”
Suddenly, Kyra felt like she might’ve insulted him by saying she would’ve stood up for him too, as if Cade couldn’t have done it himself. To cover her blunder, she said, “What if we all hung out tonight? I can cook dinner and we can relax over at Stevie’s? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, and maybe y’all don’t want to be alone tonight?”
Cade
seemed to think it over. His shoulders sagged in relief. “That would be great. I have been worried about how to distract Hale. He will be in an awful mood if we just go straight home.”
“Okay!” Kyra clapped her hands together. “I’ll get everything arranged. Y’all just come on over to Stevie’s when you’re ready.”
Finally, Cade’s smile was genuine. “I really appreciate this, and I am sure Hale will too, even if he does not say anything.”
Cade was always covering for Hale, apologizing for him or smoothing things over for his brother. It had to be exhausting, Kyra knew. She wished he didn’t feel the need to do that with her. Maybe if they could all become better friends everything would be more comfortable.
“Of course he will,” Kyra said. “This will be fun.”
She used her best chipper voice, and was rewarded with a laugh from Cade. “If you say so. I better get going. I will take him home so he can shower and change, and then we will be over.”
“Sounds great!”
Cade opened the door and started off her porch. He waved over his shoulder as he picked his way through her scraggly garden, which still needed work. She’d have to put that task off another day. When Cade had pulled out of the driveway, she closed the door and hurried upstairs to call Stevie. Hopefully her friend wouldn’t be mad that Kyra had just invited people over to her house without asking.
Kyra crossed her fingers and pressed send.
“Humph.” Stevie answered the phone on the last ring. From the clatter, it sounded like she either dropped the phone or rolled out of bed. “Yeah?” Stevie croaked.
“What just happened?”
“Er…” The phone shuffled around making awful scratching noises in Kyra’s ear. “Do you really wanna know?”
“Not really,” Kyra said quickly. “So, guess what?”
“What?” Stevie did not sound interested.
“Hale and Cade Cooper are coming over to your house tonight. We’re going to hang out.”
Stevie groaned. She didn’t even pretend to be polite. “Dude.”
“I thought you’d be okay with it!” Kyra cried.
“I’m not even out of bed yet,” Stevie said as if that was an answer.
“It’s after noon…”
“Exactly! Who wakes up before noon?”
Kyra sighed. She adjusted her grip on the phone and walked to her closet, flicking through her shirts until she found one she wanted to wear tonight. “Come on, Stevie. Please? My house is a mess.”
“Is this just a ploy to hang out with Hale?” Stevie asked, her voice suspicious.
“No! Cade and I just think it would be good for him to get out of the house tonight. You know, since he’s just getting out of jail.”
“Oh, right. You and Cade thought…well, in that case.” Stevie snorted with laughter.
“Cade is a good guy. Maybe you two would hit it off,” Kyra offered.
“That guy is a total pussy,” Stevie said, sounding offended.
“Stevie!”
Kyra heard Stevie’s music crank up all the way from her house, which meant Stevie was going to get in trouble with the old ladies of the street. Her shower screeched to life, and the phone got shuffled around some more. “Fine. I’m going to get ready. You’re in charge of the food. I’ll bring the booze.”
“Oh, great,” Kyra mumbled. “You need to turn that down. Mrs. Harrison is going to call the cops on you.”
“Let her try.”
The phone went dead in Kyra’s ear, but the conversation had gone better than she’d expected. Kyra hurried up and dressed, picking a shirt that was slightly sheer with some high-waisted shorts. She grabbed her purse and rushed out the door.
Her first stop was the grocery store. She picked up all the ingredients for stir-fry. Squeezing vegetables and sniffing fruit, Kyra made her way through the produce section, placing an assortment of goods in her basket. She looked up and gasped.
“Florence,” she said.
Her grandmother stood before her, looking stern and cruel. Kyra had a flashback to the photo albums in her front bedroom, to the laughing woman who stood beside her mom with their arms wrapped around each other and smiling. They’d once had the same eyes, both summer sky blue, but now Florence’s were shrouded in ice and venom.
“Don’t you dare,” Florence raised a trembling hand and pointed at Kyra. Her eyes darted around to make sure no one was around. “Don’t you dare speak to me like you know me.”
Kyra’s eyebrows rose, her mouth gaping open. “I don’t know you. You’ve made certain that I would never know you.”
“I don’t know why you bought that house or why you’re here,” Florence said, ignoring Kyra’s comment and jabbing her finger in Kyra’s face. “I guess to torture me by spreading your filth around town. Maybe you want some money? Would you leave if I paid you?”
Shock flooded Kyra’s system, and the words to form a coherent argument were lost. She wished more than ever that she could be the type of person who could come up with something witty and sharp in the moment. “I don’t want your money,” she managed to sputter out.
“Well, I don’t want you here! Nobody wants you here. Why won’t you just leave? I hate being reminded of her.”
Kyra knew it was silly, but all she heard was that she wasn’t wanted. She’d never felt wanted all her life. Tears sprung up in her eyes. “I hate you,” she hissed. “I hope you die.”
Florence gasped, her hand fluttering to her heart. “You are filthy, white trash, just like your mother!”
“I’d rather be like her than you!”
Kyra couldn’t risk another second of standing in front of that awful woman without crying, and she refused to let Florence see her cry. She hurried away without a backward glance, shaking slightly as she rushed to the closest checkout counter, her fingers tugging at her bracelets like they were choke collars stifling her breathing. Her darting glances confirmed that some people were watching her.
“Don’t feel bad, honey,” the clerk said, noticing the tears trickling down Kyra’s face. “Everyone hates her. Always have.”
Kyra nodded as she handed over her debit card, feeling as though she might be sick. When she’d paid and grabbed her bags, she hurried out of the store and to her car. She was back at Stevie’s in five minutes.
“What happened?” Stevie asked as soon as she opened the door and saw Kyra’s face.
“I just ran into my grandmother. Again.”
“Ah, the infamous Florence Aberdeen. It’s truly amazing how terrible she is,” Stevie mused, following Kyra into the kitchen. She sat the groceries on the counter and huffed out a breath. “What did she say to you?”
“Oh, not much. Just that she didn’t want me on the island or in that house. She asked how much it take for me to leave.”
“She was going to pay you to move away?” Stevie asked, shocked. She opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass.
“Apparently she hates me that much.”
“The good news is that she’s pretty old, so at least she won’t be around much longer,” Stevie said with a shrug.
Kyra turned around with a bag of rice in her hands and her eyes wide. “Stevie!” But she laughed, and soon, Stevie had her cracking up and forgetting all about her grandmother. When the guys knocked on the door an hour later, neither Kyra nor Stevie noticed, because they were too busy singing and dancing around the kitchen.
Cade cleared his throat and Kyra spun around from where she stood at the stove, frying the rice. Stevie turned down the stereo.
“I think I should’ve stayed in jail,” Hale said, deadpan.
“Hale,” Cade hissed, but Stevie laughed. Kyra smiled at Hale, but he didn’t look at her.
“Thanks for having us over, Stevie,” Cade said, being careful with his words. He’d put some gel in his hair and wore a collared polo. “Your house is lovely.”
Kyra snorted with laughter, causing Stevie to shoot her a dirty look. Her house was anything but love
ly; it was messy and disorganized. Art supplies littered the kitchen counters, and a huge drying glob of clay sat directly in the middle of Stevie’s kitchen table from where she tried her hand at sculpting. From the looks of the drying lump, Stevie would be sticking to photography.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Stevie poured glasses of wine and handed them to the guys.
Kyra watched Hale from the corner of her eye. He hovered at the edge of the room by the windows, staring outside with a far-away gaze as if he was thinking of something very sad. His shoulders never seemed to relax. His neck was tense, his jaw clenching and unclenching rapidly. Kyra sensed his sharp edges, his short fuse. She’d thought they were making progress that night at the bar, but he barely acknowledged her now.
When dinner was ready, the group gathered on Stevie’s back deck. A teal-painted picnic table was lined with plates and citronella candles. The ocean waves did their dance against the sand, and across the water came the distant rumble of thunder. The air was almost chilly, and Kyra regretted her sheer shirt as she set the bowl of rice onto the table.
“Here.”
Kyra looked up at the sound of Hale’s voice next to her. He stood so close that she felt the proximity of his body in the form of pinpricks across her skin. Her stomach dipped with nerves.
“What?” she asked, fumbling like a schoolgirl with a crush. She looked down at his hand; he was offering her his jacket. “Oh, thanks. I’m fine.”
“I saw you shiver,” Hale said, pushing the jacket into Kyra’s arms.
His tone wasn’t outwardly mean, but it wasn’t anything like the warmth he’d shown her at the bar. Kyra jerked the jacket from his grip and said, “What happened? Why are you being like this?”
Hale stared down at her, his expression dark. Kyra smelled the storm in the air and felt the change in air pressure. “This is who I am,” he said as more thunder rolled across the ocean, and Kyra knew he meant it.