Sanctuary

by Jennifer McKissack

“I wouldn’t guess so,” he said. “Memories are tricky things.”

  “Memories are little devils,” I snapped, but then glanced at him with an apologetic look. “Forgive me.”

  “Cecilia,” he said gently. Then he did something so delightful it shocked me. He kissed the back of my hand. For that split second, my thoughts turned from my father and my family, and I didn’t trust myself to look at him.

  “How did you find out about your father?” Eli asked slowly.

  I turned to him, lost in his eyes for a moment. “I can’t remember. Mother was a mess. She was always a distant kind of mother”—except with Tess, I thought—“but after his death, she was not there anymore.”

  “She loved him,” he said simply.

  “She adored him,” I said bitterly.

  He looked puzzled. “Doesn’t that feel right, though?”

  But that adoration ultimately took her from us. She loved him so much she couldn’t find her way back to us when he died.

  So, yes, I thought, she adored her husband, doted on Tess, but kept me out of the family. And here I was left, alone.

  “I hadn’t known my father was so sad,” I said urgently, as if he were still alive and we could still save him, save Mother, save Tess.

  He squeezed my hand gently. “A lot of people took their lives that day. It must have seemed the end of the world.”

  “It was only money,” I said fiercely.

  “He didn’t feel he could provide for his family, perhaps.”

  “He wasn’t much use to us dead either.”

  Eli nodded.

  “And his death took my mother away too. So he made me an orphan.”

  “You’re angry with him.”

  “Yes,” I said, surprised. “I guess I am.”

  “I would be too.”

  He looked like he was about to say something else, but then he didn’t. I was glad he didn’t. I didn’t want anyone to try to make it better or excuse what my father did or try to understand it. Right now, I just needed to be mad about it. I drew strength from that anger.

  “It can’t be easy,” Eli said gently, “delving into the past. It would be a lot for anyone.”

  “But I’ve been living with it for a long time,” I said, looking at him. “Some of this is bringing back memories. But they’re so sketchy and vague, I can’t grasp them.” I paused, thinking, staring off into the past. Finally, after all these years, I wanted to speak the memories.

  “I remember some about the night of the fire: the yelling, running out into the grass, the bright wicked orange of the flames, the horror of knowing that Tess”—I felt my throat catch—“and my grandmother too, of course … but especially Tess.”

  I thought of her quirky smile, with her crooked front teeth. Her hair, as straight as a board, always cut at odd angles because she cut it herself. Tears pricked my eyes. “And then the rain on my cheeks, the rain that put out the fire.” I looked at Eli. “I’d been angry that night. For a long time, I thought my anger had caused the fire. Silly, I know.”

  “It’s the way children think,” he said gently. “That they have more power than they do. Why were you angry?”

  “Tess was supposed to stay with me that night, in the main house. The cottage was being repaired that day, but the roofers finished earlier than they thought they would. Our grandmother, at the last minute—at least that’s how I remember it—said she and Tess, and Tess only, had to go to the cottage. I was seething. And I felt so guilty about it later.”

  “Have you ever told anyone that?”

  “I’m telling you,” I said.

  He squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Eli was getting a glimpse into my world, and I had to wonder what he thought. His eyes were so gentle I felt I could tell him anything. I’d never known anyone so kind or as attractive—

  “Cecilia?”

  “Hmm?” I asked, continuing to look at him and seeing the hesitation in his eyes when he realized I was studying him.

  I reached toward him, and he became very still, and I kissed him on the cheek. “You make me feel calmer,” I said.

  He seemed at a loss for words.

  “I’m ready,” I told him, “to go talk to Joe Reed.”

  TURNER’S STORE WAS LONG AND NARROW, AND OVERLY WARM, AND THE wood-planked floor was dusty. When Eli shut the door behind us, the room went quiet. Earl Turner looked up from his place behind a tall glass counter and twisted his lips in distaste. Shaking his head, he went back to scribbling something down on the pad of paper in front of him.

  A stout woman in a dark apron was sweeping in the back of the store. Two men watched us from small wooden chairs in front of a shelf of neatly stacked cans, one of them wearing a black hat. When he touched his hat in greeting, I was encouraged and stepped toward them.

  “Do you know Rita Scott at the library?” I asked.

  “I know Rita,” the man in the black hat replied.

  “She said we could find Joe Reed here.”

  “You found him.”

  “That’s you?”

  He nodded.

  “She said you found a body in 1935.”

  His friend seemed even more interested in our conversation now, but I could tell he wasn’t surprised.

  “That I did, Miss Cross.”

  I was a little surprised, but not very, that he knew who I was.

  Eli stepped forward and introduced himself. “You did, sir?”

  “I found that woman the year before I retired from the Coast Guard.” He scratched his ear with his little finger. “I had beach patrol.”

  The man beside him let out a short bark of a laugh. “You did not like beach patrol, Joe.”

  Mr. Reed slid his eyes over to his friend, then back to me. “It was about ten o’clock, almost at the end of my shift. I was about to go up and trade with the guy in the tower when I found her. She’d been in the water for a few days. Not a pretty sight.”

  “Did they find out who it was?” I asked.

  “Not that I know of,” he said. “You believe you knew the lady? But you must have been a child.”

  I swallowed. “Were there any clothes left?”

  “Sure.” He thought for a moment. “You know, she was wearing a bar pin, one of those brooches you women like. It was about this big,” he said, holding his fingers a couple of inches apart. “Long and narrow and green, and it had these small pink and blue flowers on it. Miss Cross, you don’t look well. Do you want to sit down?” he asked, starting to stand.

  Eli grabbed my elbow.

  I shook my head. “Was an autopsy done?”

  “The coroner said she drowned. She’d been drugged with Luminal, quite a bit of it, maybe twelve or thirteen grains, if I remember right. It would have knocked her out for a while. Someone threw her into the sea, and she never woke up.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Mr. Reed asked me.

  I nodded.

  “Would you like a glass of water?” Mr. Reed asked. “You don’t look well, girl.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “You knew her, did you?” he asked. “You need to go to the police.”

  “I need to go to the police,” I repeated, not knowing what I was saying. Eli was looking at me; everyone was looking at me.

  AFTER WE DOCKED BACK AT WINSHIP, WE TOOK A WALK TO THE NORTH TIP of the island, far away from Sanctuary. Eli was deep in thought.

  “I knew the pin Mr. Reed described,” I said.

  “You seemed to recognize it.”

  “It was my aunt’s.”

  “Oh,” he said, understanding coming into his eyes. “So you’re convinced it’s your cousin?”

  “It must have been. My aunt must have given her the pin. What’re the chances someone else would have the exact pin?”

  “It is possible, Cecilia, that this woman killed herself, overdosing on the Luminal and jumping into the sea. But you’re convinced someone murdered her?”

  “I am,” I answered, making my way ove
r a cluster of rocks.

  “Who?”

  “Uncle.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “But I am,” I said.

  “You actually believe your uncle is a murderer?” he asked incredulously.

  “Ben told me he did it.”

  “Ben.” He laughed a little. “And you believed him.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I asked defensively.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said gently. “I like Ben. But he is different.”

  “You mean slow.”

  “I’m not sure I’d rely on his opinion.”

  “Why do you think so highly of my uncle?” I asked angrily.

  “I don’t think highly of him. He’s an arrogant, unpleasant sort of man. But it’s a leap to think he’s a murderer.”

  “He’s violent.”

  “I haven’t seen that side of him,” he said.

  “What about Ben’s eye? You don’t call that violent?”

  He paused. “Ben fell,” he said slowly.

  I shook my head in frustration. “Ben did not fall. Uncle hit him. I’m amazed at your trust in Uncle’s words.”

  “Anna was the one who told me Ben fell, not your uncle.”

  “Anna!” I rubbed my hands across my face. We were silent for a moment and I wouldn’t look at him. Finally, I said, “Uncle hit Ben because he took the window frame apart when Uncle told him not to. Uncle admitted it to me.”

  Angrily, I turned from him and continued to walk across the rocks. I took us on the most difficult trail possible so that we had to walk single file, climb up steep embankments, and at one point step across a small cove using rocks just beneath the water. The hike required concentration and exertion, and took away some of my anger.

  It didn’t matter if Eli didn’t believe me. I was going to pursue this case against Uncle. Not only did this murdered woman deserve justice, but if I could get Uncle put away, I might be able to get my mother released. Then my mother, Ben, and I could all live here again, and this time without Uncle. But something caught at me, made me hesitate in rejoicing in this fantasy. Sanctuary wasn’t the same as before. None of us were.

  When we arrived at the point, Eli dropped to the ground, leaning back against a white boulder. He held out a hand to me, looking at me with a remorseful face. I took it, although still put out, and joined him against the boulder.

  We sat in silence for a while, watching the waves, with their caps as white as the clouds drifting overhead. I closed my eyes, putting my head back against the cold stone, hugging my sweater to me.

  With a bit of a pleasant shock, I felt Eli’s fingers on my face, so strong and cool, then running through the strands of my hair, brushing lightly against my scalp, taking away my anger, sending a sweet tingling across my skin. I opened my eyes to find him looking at me.

  “You deserved a different life, Cecilia.”

  Lulled into quiet by his touch, I watched him. I wanted to say, But you’re here now, yet I didn’t. So I continued to keep my eyes on his, desperately hoping he would stay close, keep touching me. It felt so nice, so calming, but at the same time it opened up a yearning in me for it to go on and on.

  Our eyes locked, and he seemed to sense my desire. His touch changed. I felt his fingers caressing my neck. He leaned toward me, his eyes dropping to my mouth. His lips were soft as they grazed lightly against mine. One small kiss, and then another, his lips parting my own. Eager now, I pulled him to me, closing my eyes and losing myself in the moment. He wrapped me tightly in his arms, and I wrapped him tightly in mine. We kissed again, and again, tender kisses that took our breath away.

  Pulling back to look at me, he gave me a slow smile. I returned it. To our left, the sun was low over the dark mainland. I cuddled close to him.

  We stayed like that for a while, looking at each other, then the sea and the sky, and then back to each other, with the sound of the sea below us. I barely knew him, but after our long days together, I felt closer to him than I did to Ben or to Anna or even to Elizabeth. The thought of him leaving me alone at Sanctuary made me feel empty. More than empty. I realized with a shock that it would devastate me.

  “Will you go back soon?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Do you want me to?”

  “No.”

  “No?” he asked in a teasing tone.

  “Why would I?” I asked.

  “So you could have your books to yourself.”

  “There is that.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “I can’t tell when you’re playing with me. For all I know, you really do want me to leave so your books will be unmolested.”

  “Have you known many women?”

  “What?” he asked, laughing nervously.

  “I mean, have you ever been really serious with a girl or engaged or anything like that?”

  He withdrew a little. “Not engaged, no.”

  “But close to someone?”

  “There was someone for a while.”

  “What was her name?”

  He looked at me. “We’ve been over a long time.”

  “So you’ve forgotten her name?”

  He laughed. “Helen.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “That’s a terrible name.”

  “You think so?”

  “I’m not so enamored with it. She sounds … ,” I said, hesitating.

  “Well, don’t stop now.”

  “I don’t want to offend you.”

  “It’s not my name,” he said.

  “Like she’s a bit of … a high hat.”

  He laughed. “You haven’t forgiven me that, I see.”

  “So why didn’t you marry Helen?”

  He thought for a moment. “We weren’t right for each other.”

  I smiled at him, and he kissed me tenderly.

  “Did she hurt you?” I asked, my hand on his cheek. I didn’t want him to be hurt.

  “I’m afraid I hurt her.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No,” he agreed.

  “What happened?”

  He hesitated, rubbing the side of his face. “She wanted me to give up something for her. And I couldn’t do it. Although I loved her”—I felt a stab of dislike for Helen—“I looked at my parents and realized I didn’t love her the way they loved each other. That I want to be with you forever way.”

  “That’s good, that you didn’t,” I said, hugging him. He kissed my head. I looked up at him and asked, because I had to know everything about this Helen, “What did she want you to give up?”

  “My career. She wanted me to be a family doctor in our small town. That was her dream. I couldn’t share it.”

  “She had quite a particular dream.”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Did you have a beau?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I would be jealous if you did.” He was smiling at me.

  “I’m jealous of Helen,” I admitted.

  He studied me. “Do you like me a little, then?”

  “A little, perhaps.”

  His smile widened into a grin, and he looked away.

  “You’re blushing!” I said. Which only made him turn redder and look so charming and endearing, I felt giddy. Me, giddy. What would Elizabeth think of me now?

  He pulled me in closer to him. “Cecilia, what are you doing to me?”

  Something sweet and fine soared within me. I wanted him to elaborate because it sounded wonderful and with such promise. Instead, I fumbled around, finally saying insensibly, “Yeah.”

  He was still for just a second. “Yeah?”

  I burst out laughing. Catching his eyes, seeing his confusion, I laughed harder, patting my knees, even though it was not really that funny. It was like there was this well of joy and laughter inside of me, and suddenly it had been tapped. Eli began to laugh too, at me laughing, I knew. And we didn’t say anything because nothing needed to be said. Instead, we laughed
together, and it felt magnificent.

  Our eyes caught again and again, and finally we settled down and into each other, more at ease with each other than before. I was snuggled into his shoulder, so happy, when I turned to look at him, and he put his hand on my cheek and gazed at me. I wasn’t embarrassed by his attention.

  “I like you, Eli Bauer,” I said.

  He smiled into my eyes. “That’s a relief, Miss Cross, because I like you too. Very much.”

  I was content, quiet.

  “Very, very much,” he whispered in my ear, his breath warm and pleasing.

  I put a hand on his chest, wanting him nearer, and we stayed like that, watching the sea together. I thought it might be cold, but I couldn’t feel it.

  Uncle gave us a long, hard stare when we returned to the house. I felt a light touch on my back and realized Eli was guiding me away from Uncle. He came into the service stair with me, stopping before my door. He glanced back toward the kitchen, through the open door, at Uncle sitting at the table. When his eyes returned to mine, I saw a momentary flicker of worry before he blinked and then smiled at me.

  “It was a good day,” he whispered, “because we were together.”

  WHEN I CLOSED MY EYES TO GO TO SLEEP, MY THOUGHTS WERE FILLED with Eli. I wasn’t prepared for Amoret. When she visited my dreams this time, I wasn’t watching her anymore. I was her.

  Yesterday, one of the crew grabbed me around my waist, saying ugly things in my ear. I yanked him even closer and whispered in English, “Die.” He is now ill and vomiting. The crew is frightened of me, whispering “sea witch” when I am near. Fools.

  Maman is thin and frail, her worry wasting her away. She fainted yesterday. As I rushed to her side, Dr. Clemson trailed me, pushing me away to tend to her. I like that he is forceful when he is helping people.

  The doctor persuaded the devil to let us visit the deck. I steal small moments to look out to sea, pulling in strength from its ancient power. It has always been here. It always will be.

  The captain appears at my side. “Hello, Amoret.”

  I stiffen. I don’t like that he knows my name. I don’t say anything to him, which I think angers him.

  “Is your little sister hungry?” he asks.

  My head whips around to look at him. I think he’s threatening us. He pulls at his nose in that unpleasant way he has. Yank. Yank. “I can make things better for your family.”