by Fiona Lowe
An image of Charlie’s hand—so similar to his—slamming a textbook shut with a bang made his fingers drop the grass.
Bro, the sun’s shining. Pull your nose out of that book and come outside.
The Blackfeet community started singing. It sounded to Will’s untrained ear more like a chant of a few words rather than his own interpretation of a song. The rise and fall of voices filled with emotion circled him as the Blackfeet drew on their traditions to sing a young woman from her life on earth to her new spirit life on the other side. Just like the Aborigines had done at Jilagong.
Barely holding it together, Will didn’t dare look at anyone’s faces, so he fixed his gaze on the craggy mountains in the distance, seeking some sort of peace.
Which one of those are we going to climb? Charlie asked as clearly as if he were sitting next to him. I reckon that middle one looks like the perfect challenge.
Will pulled his mind back to the singing, but the more he concentrated on it, the louder Charlie’s voice became. Come on, surf’s up and I’ve waxed the boards.
Evie and Hannah want to double-date. Twins dating twins, let’s try it.
Mate, your life would be so dull without me.
His heart rate picked up, thundering hard in his chest as if he’d just run the Olympic hundred-meter sprint. Pumping blood boomed loud in his ears, almost deafening him, but it didn’t drown out Charlie’s voice, which continued to gain volume and become more and more insistent.
I’ve signed us up for Tough Mudder. It’s gonna be a blast.
I’ve taken the job at Jilagong. Come with me. I know we can make a difference.
I’ve met someone, Will. I want you to meet her.
The singing swirled around him, infused with sorrow, and memories hammered him relentlessly. His chest and throat were so rigid he could barely move air in and out, and every part of him screamed to get out of here.
He couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t stay here a minute longer without completely falling apart.
He grabbed the MontMedAir pager out of his pocket, stood up and strode down the hill.
MILLIE had assumed that when Will left the ceremony so abruptly, the MontMedAir pager must have vibrated and he’d politely removed himself to go take the call. Only that had been a while ago now. She checked her watch again—he’d been gone ten minutes and she was starting to wonder what was going on. If it had been an emergency, he would have come back and gotten her. If it wasn’t an emergency, surely he would have explained that he couldn’t talk, cut the call and returned. So why had he been gone so long?
The first song had finished, and she took the opportunity to go look for Will. He wasn’t at the house where many people had gathered to share food, and although she doubted he’d be at the church, she checked there anyway. No Will. She stood on the steps of St. Anne’s and called him on her cell. It went direct to his voice mail.
“Will, please call back. Oh, it’s Millie by the way.”
Duh, he will know that. Why do you even think he wouldn’t?
But delving into that lack of self-belief was another project for another day.
As she walked past the community hall, she saw his Jeep parked in the lot, so he was still on the rez. Granted, that was a lot of area, although surely he wouldn’t have taken off without letting her know?
Why? You’re not a real couple, and he doesn’t have to tell you his plans.
But he’s a polite guy. He wouldn’t just leave.
She kept walking, leaving the few buildings that constituted the small village, and her phone remained ominously silent despite the uncommon luck of it actually having plenty of reception bars. Her stomach churned with anxiety. There’d been times today he’d looked at breaking point, and it was the uncharacteristic nature of his disappearance that bothered her the most. She cursed herself for not having followed him when he’d first left the ceremony. Hated herself for not being brave enough this week to push him on his feelings about the accident.
She paused, squinting into the noon sun. Where on earth was he? After scanning the area, she cut across the pasture, and drawn by the view of the mountains, she walked down toward the creek. In the distance, she saw the silhouette of a tall man with a familiar wide-legged stance. Relief made her dizzy. At least she thought it was relief, but she checked Dex just in case, because the last thing she needed was to arrive with a too-high or too-low blood sugar and give Will the excuse to focus on her instead of the other way around.
Dex was happy, so she kept walking. As she got closer, she realized Will had his back to her. Sunshine glinted on his hair, making it glow gold, and he was skipping stones into the slow-moving water. She didn’t call out until she’d almost reached him, and she used the time to practice sounding casual rather than accusatory.
“There you are,” she said with a smile. “I wondered where you’d gotten to.”
She expected him to turn toward her, and she was already anticipating how he’d give her his lazy smile—the one that raced to his eyes and made her toes curl. He didn’t turn. He didn’t even reply. He just pulled his arm back, flicked his wrist and sent the flat oval stone skimming across the water, making seven jumps before it sank.
She closed the distance between them and stood next to him, near the water, making a conscious decision to go slowly rather than straight to the point of What the hell, Will? I’ve been worried sick and why didn’t you tell me where you’d gone? “You’ve done that before.”
“Once or twice,” he said with typical Australian understatement.
“Did you grow up near a creek?”
He skipped another stone. “River.”
His monosyllabic response surprised her, because usually he drew verbal pictures of Australia whenever she asked about it. She put her hand on his arm. “You okay?”
“Yep.” He bent down, picking up and discarding stones until he found another suitable one.
She didn’t believe him. She’d had moments on and off all week when she was convinced something significant was bothering him, but whenever she asked, he smiled at her and denied it. Or he teased her. Often he kissed her until all coherent thought turned to mush and she was left wondering if she’d just imagined he had a problem.
You didn’t imagine it the night Lily died.
The night they’d had sex and he’d looked like he was running from demons.
At first, all her insecurities had gone into overdrive and she’d automatically gone straight to He doesn’t want me anymore. Except, if anything, he’d been even more attentive this week. And not just in bed. He’d helped her parents set up the street party, and although he’d been his usual charming and fun self with all the other women, keeping up a stream of banter, he’d danced almost exclusively with her. There’d been one exception—he’d asked Ethan to play a waltz on his cello, and he’d spun elderly but spry Mrs. van Dyke around with a skill that said he’d been taught how to dance. The look on the elderly lady’s face was one of blissful wonder.
Millie knew exactly how she felt. Being held in those arms was pure joy. Later in the evening, Mrs. van Dyke had told Millie she’d met her late husband at a dance during World War II and that tonight Will had rekindled some lovely memories. Millie had instantly thought that come summer’s end, memories were all she was going to have left as well.
Will’s monopoly of her that night had been unexpected but wonderful. However, she refused to allow herself to read any more into it. What they had fell somewhere in between a one-night stand and a committed relationship. It was a gray area that neither of them had chosen to clarify. Clearly, they’d graduated from the one-night stand and she’d decided that as he was a guy with a moral compass, of course he was going to be faithful to her for the length of the summer. It didn’t mean anything more than that.
But sometimes when he looked at her, those dark blue eyes of his filled with something so intense it took her breath away. It tempted her to believe he might feel more for her than a fri
end with benefits. More than a summer fling. When those moments happened, she forgot he could have any woman he wanted. Forgot that she was the woman men usually overlooked. Forgot the fact that her diabetes meant she came with a faulty equipment sticker and an expired warranty. It was a dangerous path to go down, but it was also deliciously addictive.
It’s a summer thing. A. Summer. Thing.
And right now her gorgeous summer fling was skipping stones in a creek with the fierce concentration of a surgeon doing cardiac bypass surgery. Why was he skipping stones when he should be up at the ceremony?
He is so not okay. This time she wasn’t accepting Yep or I’m fine as an answer.
“Will, you left kind of abruptly.”
“Yep.” He spat the word out, full of acrid bitterness that burned.
Even when he was in the middle of emergencies that were going pear-shaped, he always managed to sound upbeat and positive. So why the change? She was convinced it was somehow connected with Lily’s death. “You’re obviously not okay. Can I help?”
He hurled the stone he was holding so savagely that it didn’t skip but sank into the water with an ominous plop. “Only if you can bring back the dead.”
“Sadly, no one can do that.” She slid her hand along his arm, showing her support. He shrugged off her touch, and his rejection chilled her all the way down to her toes.
“I just. Want to. Skip stones.”
His terse, clipped words rained down on her like bullets, and his deep blue eyes—usually so full of fun—burned brightly with pain that reached out and threatened to choke her.
“Will, you did everything you possibly could to save Lily.”
“I know that.”
So? “Then you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.”
Another stone whipped across the water. “I don’t feel guilty.”
“Then I don’t understand why you’re down here”—she threw out her arm in the direction of the ceremony—“instead of being back up there.”
“You don’t have to understand,” he said wearily.
“I do. We came out here today because you said you wanted to support the Blackfeet community. We could have returned to Bear Paw right after the meeting, but you accepted the invitation to go to the ceremony. Now you’re down here with your phone turned off.”
“Bloody hell, Millie,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Can’t a bloke just take a break and skip some stones without being given the third degree?”
He’d never raised his voice to her before, but now he stood in front of her a totally different version of himself. His charm had vanished as easily as if it was a polite facade, leaving his handsome face fixed in an anguished rictus.
Leave it alone. You only have a month left of the summer before you have to return to medical school. If you push this, your summer fling likely ends right now. Why risk it?
Yes, but what am I actually risking?
Her gut rolled as the thought hit her and nausea clogged her throat. Was she really risking anything?
She didn’t recognize this Will, so did she really know him after all? For six days he’d had moments of being detached. It’s been longer than that. When she really thought about it, there’d been times right from when he’d arrived in Bear Paw—before they’d even had sex—when he’d looked utterly alone despite being in a crowd.
Had he been faking being happy all this time? Was the teasing, the kissing and the sex all part of that deception, too?
Her heart cramped—for him. For herself. “It’s hardly the third degree, Will. I think me asking you why you’re hiding out down here is a perfectly reasonable question.”
The warm wind suddenly changed direction, bringing with it cool air. It lifted Will’s hair, ruffling it gently. He suddenly ducked his head and raised his left hand as if he was a kid trying to dodge an adult’s hand intent on tousling his hair.
“It’s not fucking funny, Charlie.” His yell echoed off the banks of the creek, strangled and full of distress.
Millie flinched at the raw sound, worried for Will’s state of mind. Sure, she’d read twins were close, but why would he be yelling at his brother as if he was standing next to him. “Ah, Will.” She stepped in close. “Charlie’s not here. He’s back in Australia.”
He stared down at her, his eyes dark and empty of everything she was used to seeing there. “No,” he said hollowly. “He’s here.”
“Here?” She glanced around, half expecting to see someone else farther along the creek while at the same time thinking that made no sense at all. If his twin was here, Will would be over the moon with happiness. “You mean he’s in Bear Paw?”
Will shook his head slowly before resting his forehead on the top of her head as if he was finding it hard to hold it up. She heard him suck in a long, deep breath.
He moved slightly and then looked down at her with a resigned expression. “You wanted to know why I’m down here instead of up there?”
“Yes.”
“Because every time they chanted, Charlie’s voice got louder and louder, and I couldn’t deal with it.”
He was hearing voices? A skitter of panic shot through her. “Do you . . . um . . . hear other people’s voices in your head?”
“I’m not schizophrenic, Millie,” he said with a hint of exasperation.
She was grappling to understand. “So it’s a twin thing?”
He closed his eyes for a second as if he needed to force himself to speak. “Charlie died two years ago.”
Chapter 17
Charlie’s dead? A slow, dull pain started at Millie’s toes, rolling through her until nowhere was free of its touch. The vibrant guy in the photo—Will’s identical twin brother—had been dead two years? Wrapping her arms around Will’s waist, she struggled to work through her shock and find the words to express her sympathy.
“I . . . that’s . . . God . . .” Giving up, she just tightened her arms around him.
“Yeah. Exactly.” His generous mouth twisted, full of sadness. “Today’s the anniversary of his death, and up there with all those grieving people, it’s like reliving that horrendous day all over again.”
Unwrapping her arms from his waist, he slid his hand into her right one and sat on the pebbles, tugging her down with him. He stared out toward the mountains, looking pale and haggard. Thinking that he looked like he needed some sugar, she dug into her tote bag and offered him some jelly beans. He silently picked out all the black ones and put them in his mouth.
Watching him chew, she argued with herself about what she should do. Should she ask him what happened? Wait and see if he told her? She wanted to know how Charlie had died, but the fact he hadn’t told her before now could mean he didn’t consider their friendship worthy of that sort of closeness. The thought added an extra layer to the misery she felt for him.
This isn’t about you.
“Charlie would have loved Glacier,” Will finally said, his eyes still fixed on Heart Butte. “He’d have dragged me up every peak.”
“I thought it would have been the other way around,” she said, thinking how Will embraced every outdoor activity with one hundred percent enthusiasm.
He glanced at her, a faint smile hovering on his lips. “No. Charlie was the adventurous one.” He flicked another pebble across the top of the water. “You know, I thought coming to Montana would make things easier.”
She squeezed his hand. “Today was never going to be easy for you no matter where in the world you found yourself.”
“True.” He hung his head for a moment. “But I thought being out of Australia where Charlie was such a force in my life would help me on the other three hundred and sixty-four days of every year.” Another pebble hit the water as his bitter laugh rent the air. “God knows why I was dumb enough to think that.”
“I don’t think it’s dumb,” she said, eager to reassure him. “I think it shows that you’re trying to get on with your life.”
“Get on with my life?” He snorted
. “I’m not getting on with it. I’m getting by. Losing Charlie was like losing a limb.” He hurled a rock into the water. “I spent thirty-two years with him, almost thirty-three if you count being squished up close in utero. He wasn’t just my brother; he was my best friend. We were Team Bartlett, and then bam, he’s dead and he’s taken part of me with him.”
She loved her brother, and if he died she’d miss him, but not anything like this, but then again, she wasn’t a twin. She’d gone to school with the Perkins twins, who’d done everything together and occasionally finished each other’s sentences. She’d thought that closeness was more of a girl-BFF thing than a twin thing, but listening to Will, she knew she’d been wrong. The pall of loneliness that often cloaked him suddenly made a whole lot of sense.
“How did Charlie die?”
“Fast.”
That didn’t tell her much, and a hundred more questions jumped up and down, impatiently waiting to be answered. She stalled them on her lips, swallowing them back down, hoping he’d elaborate.
Will tapped a pebble against another one, the clacking sound fast and insistent. “We both studied medicine, but after years in Sydney, Charlie craved the heat and dust of home and the warmth of the turquoise Indian Ocean. The plan had been to do our own thing for ten years and then open a practice together. Our great-great-grandmother on my mother’s side was an Australian Aborigine, and Charlie always had an interest in indigenous health, especially as their life expectancy is ten years less than the white Australian population. Charlie was determined to make a difference, and he took a job as a medical officer working with outback, isolated aboriginal communities. He loved it, and he used to call me at all hours to discuss his plans and bounce ideas off me.”
He ran his hand across the back of his neck. “God, I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She pulled his hand into her lap. “I want to hear it any way you want to tell it.”