“Grams put a stop to that adventure real quick,” Dani said, an unmistakable longing in her voice. Out of nowhere, she laughed. “Do you remember how pissed she was? I guess it wasn’t very nice to tell everyone he was an evil monster who ate little kids.”
Laughing, I said, “No, no I guess it wasn’t. Especially because I think Judy and her little sister actually believed it.”
“So,” Jake said, startling me. I hadn’t realized he’d ridden up beside me. “You’ve always been this much trouble?” he said ruefully, his eyebrow arched.
Between Jason’s smirk and Dani’s dying laughter, I couldn’t suppress my own amused chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I have been. That was a fun summer,” I said, trying to catch my breath. My stomach muscles hurt from laughing so much, but my heart felt lighter. It was a great feeling.
Aside from the difficult times I’d had growing up, there were a lot of good times, too. But time was a funny thing; it went by so fast that things changed in the blink of an eye. It seemed I’d already lived three lifetimes—my childhood, my time in Massachusetts, and now.
Dani must’ve lost herself in thought, too, because she and I both grew quiet as we watched the memories from our past disappear in the fog behind us. Jake and Jason’s low chuckles and conversation were all that filled our silence.
My heartbeat quickened as my house came into view through the mist, and even the talk among the men quieted. The house—faded blue and weather-worn—was exactly how I remembered it, if a little more lonely and bleak.
With Dani and me in the lead, we clomped up the driveway, bringing Wings and Shadow to a stop outside the backyard fence. “Well,” I breathed. “Shall we?”
Dismounting, I wiped my clammy palms on my jeans and walked toward the gate, slowly opening it and paying little attention to the others as I walked through. I led Shadow into the yard, and wrapped his reins around his saddle horn so he was free to roam among what little amount of grass and weeds were growing, before looking up at the house.
The others came into the backyard after me, but I was too busy losing myself in a rush of memories. I could almost picture Jason mowing the side lawn, cursing the tire swing for being in his way. I easily imagined Dani and me lying out on the deck, sunbathing in the only corner that wasn’t completely covered in tree shadows, begging the sun god for just a few more minutes, and us eating our lunches at the outside table, music blasting from my stereo.
Stepping up onto the first stair of the deck, I thought of my dream two nights ago, the night I met my mom. The memory stung, but it also reminded me of something. I bent forward, searching beneath the railing for the carving Dani and I had etched into the wood over a decade ago. In a brief moment of panic, I’d worried it wouldn’t be there. “It’s still here,” I said.
When I straightened, a smile pulling at my lips, I found Dani standing beside me, her smile equally as big. “You expected someone to search the entire deck, underside and all, for things to deface?” She scoffed, but merriment brightened her green eyes.
I’d told Dani about my dream meeting with my mom, but I hadn’t thought about the carving until now. “No,” I said a little self-consciously. “I guess not.”
Glancing behind me, I noticed that Jake and Jason were a ways back, giving us our space.
“We’ll be in the shop,” Jason said, leading Jake toward the large shed our dad had built beside the house.
“So…” Dani eyed the sliding glass door. “You ready for this?”
“Yep,” I said on an exhale. Taking Dani’s hand in mine, I opened the door and stepped into my home, a place I never thought I would set foot in again.
The living room was minimally decorated, just as it had been when I’d left for Salem a few years back. A large, black sectional butted up against the left wall, and two matching recliners flanked the rectangular, cedar coffee table my dad had built. Our dusty, big-screen TV sat on the entertainment center against the opposite wall, remnants of my extensive movie collection stacked on either side.
With the exception of a few of my landscape drawings, there was no artwork on the walls, there were no family pictures. Although it had bothered me growing up, I understood now that it was probably a safety precaution taken by Dad, since he’d known why my mom had to leave…since he’d known about General Herodson’s threats. It had been better—safer—if we weren’t able to recognize her.
I shook my head at the husk of a life I’d lived, at the lies I’d thought were memories of my childhood—they were memories, but they were skewed and shadowed with more lies than I’d probably ever fully understand.
Dani was watching me, her face a careful, cautious mask that did little to hide the gentle waves of anticipation I could feel resonating around her. “It’s weird, huh? Like it’s the same, but different, too…”
Peering around the room, I realized that was exactly how it felt: everything was just as it had been when I’d left years ago, like absolutely nothing had changed. Only I saw things differently now, and the months I’d spent traversing the country with my friends had felt more like home than the dreary house I was standing in.
I headed toward the kitchen, poking my head through the doorway to find nothing out of place, except… “Someone’s been here,” I said with a mixture of dread and hope as I stared at the dirty plates in the sink.
“Jason and me—those are from the last time we were here.”
My heart sank a little, but I shrugged and gave Dani a weak smile. Nudging her arm with mine, I turned and walked up the stairs toward my bedroom, each step bringing me closer to an impending clash of pre-Ending Zoe and new Zoe.
As I stepped into the hallway, I noticed my dad’s bedroom door was closed, giving the hall an ominous feeling that made me slightly uncomfortable. I opened my mind completely, letting my feelers wander through the house in search of my dad’s mind, but there was no one there but the four of us. I wasn’t surprised. He’s gone, Zoe.
Stopping in the hallway between Jason’s room and mine, I stared through his open doorway. His room was a complete mess; clothes were strewn all around, the contents of his closet were spilling out onto the carpet, and his bedding was rumpled.
Recalling the dishes in the sink, I eyed Dani skeptically, hoping I wasn’t looking at the aftermath of one of their sexcapades.
Dani rolled her eyes and raised her right hand. “On my honor as your best friend, I swear we’ve never done anything here. This is just the aftermath of hurricane Jason, when he was going through his stuff, figuring out what he wanted to take with him.”
With a snort, I shook my head, ecstatic that I could easily block out those memories that I didn’t want to see, and stepped into my bedroom. It seemed just as I’d left it; my queen-size bed was covered with my favorite purple and green comforter, a mountain of pillows were tossed messily at the head, and my cluttered desk seemed untouched against the wall across from it.
I vaguely registered Dani sitting down on my bed as I walked up to the corkboard hanging above my desk. I stared at the photos and drawings and notes I’d stuck to its surface over the years.
“There are so many memories,” I thought aloud. “It’s easy to forget about the good times.” I wasn’t sure which memories to hold onto…which keepsakes to take with me. Squinting, I stared at one particular picture, then pulled it from the board. It was the single photo I had of Jason and my dad, working in the woodshop.
I handed it to Dani. “Remember how upset my dad was when we took this?”
I heard the bedsprings creak as Dani stood. She drew closer to my side and linked her arm with mine. “I guess his aversion to having his picture taken sort of makes sense now…”
Nodding, I gently pulled my arm from Dani’s and crouched down to open the bottom drawer of my desk. I needed to get the items I wanted to take with me and get the hell out of the house. It felt too strange being there, too much like a bad dream.
The woodcarving kit I’d had since I was nine years old lay rolled up
in the drawer, exactly where I’d left it. “This might come in handy,” I said, setting it on the floor beside me. Prepared to close the drawer, I noticed the large, black canvas scrapbook I’d been putting together for Dani before she left for Washington, one that I’d obviously neglected in my rushed decision to move to Salem.
“I forgot about this,” I said, pleasantly surprised, and handed it to Dani. “I’d meant it to be a project to work on when I came home to visit, since all my collage stuff is here. I guess I hadn’t come back as often as I’d planned.” I cringed, feeling a little guilty as I realized how absent a best friend I’d been over the past couple years.
Dani accepted it and stared at the photo framed in the window on the front cover—my favorite picture from our “boycott prom” camping trip, with our faces smooshed together, cheek to cheek, our hair concealed in beanies, and the ocean just barely visible behind us.
“What…” Seconds passed before Dani tore her eyes away from the photo. Blinking rapidly, she looked at me, her green eyes luminous. “What is this?”
Unsure why Dani’s stunned reaction was affecting me so much, I bit at the side of my cheek and cleared my throat. “It’s a scrapbook…of us.” I opened it, so she could see the decorated pages inside. “I thought it would be nice if you had something in Washington, something that would remind you to come home every once in a while. But like a crappy friend, I ended up leaving, and I never finished it—obviously.”
“Oh…well, I—” Dani shook her head, apparently at a loss for words. “I—none of that matters anymore.” She shrugged. “Besides, I left first…” With an apologetic smile, she returned her attention to the scrapbook and slowly walked back to the bed. Lying on her stomach, she sprawled out on the comforter, scooting over to make room for me. “Come on. Let’s see what kind of silliness you packed in this thing.”
“I hardly remember,” I said, crawling up next to her. I settled in, resting my cheek on my hand. When I glanced over at Dani, I grew equally as excited as she was. “This is going to be like Christmas for both of us…”
~~~~~
After Dani and I pilfered through my room a bit longer, I decided nothing I owned, save for the woodcarving kit and a whittled starfish figurine I’d made with my dad’s help when I was twelve, was worth taking. Everything seemed frivolous and unnecessary or reminded me of a life I wasn’t sure I needed to remember. Dani and I exited my room and plodded down the stairs, through the living room, and out the back sliding door to find the guys.
We stopped mid-step at the sight of Jason and Jake sitting in the cushioned deck chairs, smoking cigars. I glanced between them, amused. “Since when do you guys smoke cigars?” I asked with feigned admonishment.
Jason took a few quick pulls of his stogie and looked over at us. “Since we found Dad’s stash in the woodshop.”
“Dad had a cigar stash?” I was beginning to think I hadn’t known my dad—the scatterbrained woodworker who spent more time in his shop than with his own kids—at all. Who the hell were you, Tom Cartwright? The fact that I didn’t know stung a little.
I glanced at Dani, whose nose was wrinkled. “Now you’re going to be stinky,” she said, making a show of waving the smoke away from her with one arm while she hugged the scrapbook to her chest with the other.
Jason only chuckled and nodded to the scrapbook. “What’s that?”
“Something Zo made for me,” Dani said, a smile spreading her lips.
Jason made a funny face. “Were you doing arts and crafts up there, or—”
Dani walked by him and swatted his arm on the way toward the deck stairs. Jason responded by swatting her in return—on the butt—eliciting a high squeal and giggle from her.
“Come on,” she said. “We’ve got a meeting to prep for. We need to get back to the ranch and wrangle in the others.”
Jason heaved a sigh, but laid his head back against the cushioned chair instead of standing and closed his eyes against the glaring afternoon sun. “I just need a few more minutes,” he groaned, reminding me of a little boy begging his mom for just a few more minutes of sleep.
“It might be faster to gather everyone over here; it doesn’t look like he’s moving anytime soon,” I teased.
“That’d be great,” Jason said, and he let a small smile tug at his lips. It was nice to see my brother so peaceful and…happy, a state I didn’t think I’d ever see him in.
“That’s all you’re bringing back with you?” Jake asked, nodding to the whittling kit rolled up in my back pocket as he stood.
He’d been so quiet, sitting there, observing. What’s it like for him to be at my house, in my hometown…smoking a cigar with my brother? I’d gleaned enough about Jake’s past—seen the death of his mother and sister, seen Joe and knew how badly Jake missed him—but I thought I would’ve liked to spend a day with him and the old man in another life.
I shook my head. “This is it, there’s nothing else I want to bring with me.” I fingered the outline of the starfish in my front pocket, strangely content with the fact that my past life had boiled down to only two items that connected me to my dad.
Oblivious to my inner musings, Jake took a final puff of his cigar. It seemed strangely natural to see him with one in his hand.
Walking over to him, I linked my fingers with his. “What about you guys? Did you find anything besides cigars?”
Jake gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Some tools that’ll come in handy when we’re ready to settle. Jason and I were talking, and we’re partial to this area. Some of that farmland back around Petaluma was pretty ideal for what we’ve been discussing.”
“Yeah?” I was surprised to hear Jake say that, a sudden feeling of unease making my heartbeat quicken.
He eyed me for a moment. “That okay with you?”
With a slight smile, I nodded. “I guess I just figured we’d keep going, a little further north, maybe. Not so close to…everything.”
He gave me a quizzical look.
“There weren’t as many tools as I thought,” Jason interrupted. “Umph,” he grumbled as he peeled himself out of the padded chair. “Damn, I forgot how comfortable these things are.”
“Let’s take them,” I said, untying the cushions from the chair closest to me. “We can use them—”
“For?” Jason asked, curious.
“For extra padding on the cart and wagon benches…for sitting around the campfire…for your throne, your highness.” I snorted. “Consider it my wedding gift to you.”
Jason laughed as he walked down the stairs toward Dani. “I kinda like the sound of that: Your Highness.”
“I’m sure you do,” I muttered.
“Come on guys, we gotta go!” Dani called from atop Wings. “Aren’t you finished with those nasty cigars yet?”
Jason, Jake, and I chuckled in response.
As Jake and I finished untying all the cushions, I glanced around at my friends, at my family.
Jason leaned against Wings, fingering the fringe of her chocolate-and white-colored mane as he gazed up at my best friend, his new bride. There was no doubt in my mind that he was murmuring something inappropriate as he received a playful smack on his arm and a giggle from Dani. They truly loved each other, and although I wasn’t sure when exactly they’d fallen in love, I was pretty ecstatic that they had.
“What are we doing with these?” Jake asked from beside me as he held up the cushions.
I looked up at him, unable to resist smiling at his beautifully rugged face and the warmth in his voice. “We can tie them to the saddles.”
“Are they really necessary?” he asked. I could see the curiosity twinkling in his eyes.
I shrugged a shoulder and wrapped my arms more securely around the three overstuffed cushions I was holding. “They’re not necessary at all, actually, but we came here to get some things, so why not?”
“I think you made your brother’s day.”
I gave him a mock bow. “It’s the least I can do.”
Jake leaned into me and pressed a soft kiss against my lips.
“We should get going,” I said quietly and watched him as he walked down the steps.
Despite the craziness that had become our lives, for the first time in years, I felt content. I even ventured so far as to think that, if we all stayed together—even if we stayed around here—we could be happy.
26
DANI
MAY 24, 1AE
Bodega Bay, California
It was late afternoon, though the gray, misty cloud cover spreading from horizon to horizon and blocking out the sun made it feel more like evening. I stared up at the endless cloudy mass, trying to pick out the spot where the sun should’ve been.
“At least we don’t have to deal with the fog,” Zoe said.
“For once,” I grumbled, and Jason emitted a noncommittal snort. It wasn’t the “foggy season,” but the fog didn’t seem to care; it had been ever present since we’d arrived, lingering until only a few hours ago. By the time Jason, Zoe, Jake, and I had returned to the ranch from our excursion to the Casa di Cartwright, the dewy fog had finally dissipated.
As the only members of our group who were actually from Bodega Bay, Jason, Zoe, Grayson, and I were heading up our envoy to the “New Bodega” town meeting. Sitting atop our respective mounts, we rode along Westshore Road, past the turnoff to our home street, and followed it as it curved onto the peninsula. The bay was on our left, and our entourage of Gabe, Carlos, Jake, and Becca fanned out behind us. We’d selected which of us would attend the town meeting carefully, wanting people who could offer varying perspectives of the current state of the country.
Movement in the harbor caught my attention. “Look!” I pointed out at what I realized was the nearest of a handful of small vessels—both metal rowboats and inflatable dinghies—moving slowly as their oarsmen rowed them around the harbor.
Asking Wings to stop, I unbuckled my right horn bag and pulled out a small pair of binoculars, raising them to my eyes. The nearest boat stopped at a tiny buoy that was half red and half white. A quick scan of the water’s rippling surface around the boat revealed dozens of other buoys, all red and white.
Out Of The Ashes (The Ending Series, #3) Page 32