by Angel Lawson
He smiles, relieved and happy. “I definitely think we can make it.” His hand skims down my waist, lingering over my bare bottom other than the lacy panties.
“It’s a long drive, shouldn’t we get moving?”
His lips sear across my shoulder. “Once we get back I’m going to have to share you with the others, so give me another few minutes to enjoy this.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, capturing my lips with his, and I figure that yeah, he does deserve a little more time, but not much, because I can’t wait to get back to the beach.
Chapter 20
There’s no hesitation about my first stop when I get back to Ocean Beach. Nick drops me and my luggage off at the main house. A tire swing hangs from the giant shade tree and bright plastic toys are littered around the yard. I leave my bag at the bottom of the steps and knock on the aluminum screen door.
“Sibley, stay out of the cookie jar, you hear,” Anita shouts over her shoulder before turns to face the door—and me. She stops short.
“Hi,” I say tentatively.
“Hello,” she crosses her arms defensively but I can tell she is surprised to see me.
“I came by to apologize. I never should have run off like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. I was worried about you.” She frowns. “And I missed you.”
“I know. I had to take care of some stuff back home and kind of get my head back on straight.”
“The teacher?”
“Yep. That’s done. He won’t be a problem anymore—hopefully not for anyone. I’m sorry he came down here.”
“He needed an old-school ass-kicking,” she says with a grunt.
“Yeah, I heard Whit gave him that black eye. Did he get in trouble?”
“You’re going to have to talk to him about that.”
“Fair enough.”
Anita watches me carefully through the screen until she says, “My mama said the Barnes girls are runners. I’m just glad it didn’t take you thirty years to come home.”
Home.
The word strikes a chord, something deep inside I never understood beyond the superficial. I reach for the door handle and wrench it open with a loud screech. Anita’s eyes widen but she allows me to pull her into a tight, clinging hug.
“So,” she says, in a slow voice, “wanna come to a Fourth of July party?”
“Yes. I really, really do.”
“Ivy’s parents will be here for the week and they always have a big cookout. Lots of crab and shrimp. We can crash at her place legally this time.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Better than France?”
“Way better.” I laugh. There’s a brief silence between us and I muster the nerve to break it. “How angry is Justin?”
“Honey, I don’t know what he’s going through right now, but I can say you hit a nerve leaving like that.”
“But he’s the one I actually told I was leaving and why.”
“That doesn’t fix the part inside of him that suspected you always would.” She notices my confusion. “Justin lives with Richard because his family took off. First his daddy. Then his mama. There are a lot of reasons those guys created that Pact. One of them was to keep from getting hurt.”
“Nick said that. He said they were all scared.”
She nods. “They may look like men but inside they’re boys—each with lingering damage. You came in here and started to repair some of that, but—”
“I left, fulfilling their biggest fear. Especially Justin.”
It all clicks.
“I can fix this,” I tell her. I step off the porch and reach for my bag. “I can make it better.”
“Summer,” she says, and I pause, “if you can that’s great, but if you can’t…you may have to let him go. For his own sake.”
* * *
I walk back to my camper and find my mother sitting on our patio with another woman her age. She’s pretty, although a bit more weathered than my mom. She’s rounder in the middle and her hair is completely silver, bringing out the blue in her eyes.
“Hi,” I say when I come into view.
“Sweetie!” My mom cries. “You’re back!”
“Yep, Nick just dropped me off.”
A million questions float between us but she remembers herself and gestures to the woman behind her. “Summer, this is my cousin, Sugar.”
“Oh! Anita’s mom?” I step forward, glancing between the two women. Everyone seems pleasant, which is a good sign. “It’s really nice to finally meet you. She and I were just talking.”
“I told her I would watch Sibley today while she got some shopping done, but I thought I’d stop by before I went over to her house.”
“Look, Summer,” my mother says, handing me a piece of paper. “Sugar brought this photo of me and her back when we were kids.”
I take the rectangular piece of paper out of her hand. The two women—girls then--were stunning. Both with long sleek hair and even in the faded color picture you can see how tan their summer skin is. “Those are some pretty scandalous bikinis you have on,” I laugh.
“We used to swap.” Sugar says. “The white one was mine and the green one your mother’s. She had a bigger chest than I did, so I would have to knot it in the back to keep it from falling off.”
Both women laugh at the memory and my mother looks happier than I’ve seen her in a while. They both look happy and it’s impossible to tell they spent the last thirty years not speaking.
“Sugar just invited me to a Fourth of July party over at the beach,” my mom says.
I raise an eyebrow and smile. “I got the same invite from Anita.”
Sugar checks her watch and stands. “I guess I better get going, or Anita will wonder where I got off to.”
My mother stands too and gives her cousin an enthusiastic hug. “Thanks for coming by,” she says.
Sugar smiles back and squeezes back. “I’ve missed you.”
Once Sugar leaves, I follow my mom into the trailer. “Repairing the family tree?” I ask.
“It’s time.”
“Why now?” I sit on my bed and she slides behind the table where her computer sits, open.
“Because you can only let wounds fester for so long, honey. I learned that the hard way.”
“So you think I’m doing the wrong thing by leaving?” I guess.
She shrugs. “Your life isn’t the same as mine. What went on between me, Richard, and Sugar has nothing to do with you. I just realized I needed to come home and put some bad memories to rest. I’m happy they were still willing to take me back.”
“So you and Richard…”
“Are testing the waters.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we only have one life, Summer, and he and I wasted too many years being afraid. We aren’t going to let that happen again. Will we make a go? I have no idea. We aren’t the same people as we were thirty years ago—but that doesn’t mean we aren’t better matched now than then.”
I flop back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I try not to focus on the fact her life has come together when mine continues to fall apart. I’m happy for her. I just need to get my act together. I listen to her fingers click against the keyboard. I roll over and say, “Does it ever get easier? Love and relationships?”
She looks at me over the laptop screen. “I wish it did, honey. But at some point, you have to push aside your fears and follow your heart.”
Chapter 21
The next day, my mother and I make one last trip inland for her book. I’m thankful that for once, this meeting is not with a victim or in someone’s home. My mother has managed to convince a former detective from Donald Gaskins’ case to meet us for lunch. Seafood and murder. At this point, the combination sounds completely normal to me.
I expect an old man, but the guy waiting for us at Captain Jack’s appears only a bit older than my mother. He’s already at the table buttering hush-puppies and reading a paper.
“Mr. Marrs, I’m Julia. This is my daughter and assistant, Summer.”
“Sit, please, and call me Judson.” He gestures to the empty seats at the table. “Try these hushpuppies. Best in the area.”
I stare at the fried ball of dough questionably, but I’m starving. I slather butter all over the bread and take a bite. “Holy crap, that’s good.”
“Summer!” my mother admonishes.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “Try one, they’re awesome.”
My mother ignores me. “So Judson, you worked on the Gaskins case in 1973?”
“Through ’76,” he confirms. “I was a rookie and found myself in the middle of the biggest serial killer case the state had ever seen. When I got on the case, though, he was already in jail, waiting for trial. Right before he was arrested, Gaskins had started taking on a lot of paid jobs.”
“You mean he was a hired killer?” she asks, scribbling in her notepad.
“Yep. Took his nasty habit and started making money off of it.”
“Wow,” I say, before shoving another hush puppy in my mouth.
Mr. Marrs smiles at me. “While he was in jail we arrested an associate of his, Walter Neely. He was the one that finally caved and told us everything. I was in the room when he confessed.”
My mother looks at her notes. “Walter Neely assisted him in some of his crimes, correct?”
“Yep, he helped him hide three bodies. He took us directly to Gaskins’ personal cemetery. We found eight bodies out there that night. Most horrific sight I’d ever seen—bones everywhere.”
At that, I push the basket of bread away.
My mother isn’t deterred by bones and bodies. “Was that all you used to connect them to Gaskins? Neely’s testimony?”
Judson pours a packet of sweetener into his tea and stirs it loudly. “That was a big part but there were some other identifying factors.”
“Can you share?” It’s slight, but I notice my mother’s interest pick up. She already knew these other facts. She’s hoping Judson can tell her something new.
“There’s a small fact that was never released—even in court. It was random on the victims, but we had seen it more than once. Predominately on women. It seemed Gaskins had a signature of sorts, yet it was inconsistent.”
“What was it?”
“On two of the women found at the grave, there were signs of a gash on their chest. We had seen this on several other victims and at least one other victim that had escaped.”
A horrible metallic taste enters my mouth and I realize I’ve clenched my jaw so tight I bit the inside of my cheek. Two images flash in my mind when he describes these wounds.
My mother and Martha Sanders.
* * *
The images from the detective linger in my mind on the way back from the meeting. I had no doubt now about the scars on my mother’s chest but she still didn’t open up about it. She refused to speak, although her pale skin and shaky hands gave her away. I drove, fighting back wave after wave of nausea.
We’re headed down the main road and up ahead I see the turn-off. I don’t ask, I just take it, guiding the car down the bumpy dirt road.
“Where are you going?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
“Taking you to Richard.”
“I don’t think I’m up to a visit.”
I pull into the driveway and park the car. “Go talk to him.”
She doesn’t get a chance to run this time because Richard must have heard our arrival and steps outside.
“Go to him, mom. Let him help you.”
She opens the door slowly and hops out of the seat. I watch as they make their way to one another, tentative, but there was no doubt about the love he held for her in his eyes. I look away, toward the cottage, as they embrace, allowing them to have their moment in peace. I spot a silhouette heading down the boardwalk and I hop out, following.
Nerves race through me, knowing this may be my chance to talk to Justin, but when I get to the sun-baked boardwalk I realize it’s Whit. I owe him a different sort of apology and chase him down to the edge of the dock, calling his name.
He turns at the pounding of my feet and a slow smile tugs at his lips. My eyes flick upwards and I wince at the deep purple bruise surrounding his eye. We meet on the dock and I carefully touch his face.
“Mason?”
“He got in a lucky hit.”
He grimaces when my fingers graze too close. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. That asshole had it coming.” He bends down and kisses me. “I see Nick talked you into coming back.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Wasn’t that the plan?”
“He’s a sweet-talker. I would’ve made things worse.”
“I doubt that.” My fingers are twisted in his T-shirt. I don’t know if I realized how much I missed him until this very moment. “How much trouble did you get, punching Mason?”
“Randy, the owner of the bar, called the cops and arrested me and Mason for fighting.” His jaw tenses. “It’s not my first bar fight.”
“Shit. Whit, that is not okay.” I think of how Maggie was holding him back. She knew he was likely to jump in. The idea of Whit going to jail for me or any sort of punishment is a weight too much. “What about school?”
“There will be a discipline hearing before I can start.” He brushes a string of hair out of my face. “I’ve been in a lot of fights, Summer, but this was the first one I believed in. No one treats my girl like that and gets away clean. No one.”
His words hit me in the chest, so pure and honest. Mason had rejected me when things got tough. My dad is barely around—he doesn’t even know what happened to me. But this guy and his shaggy long hair, sexy smile, and killer body risked it all for me. I’ve never experienced that before.
“Thank you for defending me,” I say, linking my arms around his neck.
“Anytime, babe.” His lips meet mine again and his kiss is brighter than the sun. I feel his hands running up and down my back and exhale, absorbing everything about the moment; the sun, the water, and especially him. “I’m just glad you came back.”
“I think you guys are stuck with me now.”
“I can think of worse things.”
I fall into him, probably similar to my mother down the dock and in the house. I’ve got two of these Ocean Beach Boys back on my side…there’s just two to go.
* * *
There’s nothing like fighting tourists at the Jiffy Mart the morning of the Fourth of July. All I need is a couple of items from the dairy section, some chips, and two cans of beans, yet I’ve spent ten minutes dodging grocery carts full of hotdogs, screaming kids, and two guys each carrying out five bags of ice.
Oh right, and Justin.
He’s over in the beer section with Bobby, filling their own cart with a variety of brands. I’ve known them both long enough to appreciate that Bobby has a preference for cheap, American beer, where Justin tends to favor the quirkier, independent breweries. Sure enough, as I hide behind a display of soda, I can hear that’s exactly what they’re fighting about.
“Dude, no one cares what it tastes like—this case of PBR is only twenty bucks,” Bobby argues.
Justin’s jaw is set and he shakes his head. “I’m not drinking that crap.”
“Are you kidding me? Is this what you learned in college? Snobby beers?”
“Stop being stupid. Just get some of both. I’ll pay for it.”
“Whatever,” Bobby says with a grin. He tosses a couple more cases into his cart before rolling off.
I peek around the corner, expecting to find them gone, and instead come face to face with Justin.
“Oh!” I say in surprise. I wonder when he spotted me.
“Hiding from me?” he asks.
“Avoiding me?”
His eyes drop. “Not exactly. I heard you were back in town.”
“I couldn’t stay away.”
“Nick talked you into it, didn’t he?”
&nb
sp; I fail to keep the laughter down. The fact they all know…it’s too much.
He breaks into a grin and rubs his chin. I see the grease stains on his hands from working on the boats.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, ready to cut to the chase.
“It’s not your fault, Summer, but that whole thing at the bar with Mason, it was like a moment ripped out of my childhood. I can’t go back to that place.”
I’m confused. “What are you talking about?”
He looks around and lowers his voice. “All I ever saw was my mama and daddy fighting. It was always about other men or other women. More than once, things got physical. Once some guy showed up with a gun and threatened to shoot us all because my daddy couldn’t keep it in his pants. I’m not living that life again, Summer.”
“I’m…I’m not asking you to,” I stammer. “None of that was normal for me.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. I just don’t know if you appreciate what it’s like to live like that.”
“What? Where you’re the kid waiting around while your parents fight and divorce and leave one another for someone new? My dad was a cheat also, Justin. It’s one reason being with Mason ended so badly. He had a fiancé. I had no idea.”
I see his resolve weaken—just for a second—before the walls come back up. “Good, then you understand.”
“I wish I didn’t.” But the familiarity gave us a common ground. A better understanding of who we are outside the basic attraction and fun days on the beach. A woman bumps into my foot with her cart and I jump out of the way. He reaches out to steady me and his fingertips shoot a jolt of electricity through my body.
Fight or not, there’s no denying our attraction to one another.
He looks into my cart. “So you’re going to the party?”
I nod.
Bobby calls his name and he leans in and I think for a brief moment he’s going to kiss me, but at the last second he hesitates and pulls away. “I’ll see you there.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you there,” I echo, watching him walk away.
* * *
“Already unpacked?” my mom asks. I’ve just finished resorting my clothes in the cabinets over the bed. The only thing I kept out was my bathing suit and a cotton dress to wear over it.