Ten Million Fireflies (Band of Sisters)

by Marianne Rice

  “How would you know?” Brooke wiped her nose again, this time with the back of her hand. She was a disgusting mess and didn’t give a damn.

  “I stuck around for a few minutes after you left. Gave him and hottie arson guy some serious questioning. They’re running prints on the gas can, and Drew said he’d do anything asked. Go down to the station, let him search the place. Anything. When hottie left, Drew told me to come check on you. He didn’t want you to be alone. He’s scared, Brooke. I kinda believe him when he said he cared about you.”

  “Kinda?”

  “I do. He’s crushed. For you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to him. I’ll go stay in a hotel tonight or at least until the detective finds whoever did this.”

  “You’re not going to stay with Drew?”

  “I... I can’t. Not now.”

  “Okay. I’ll go back and get our stuff.” Charlie squeezed her again in a hug. A few minutes later, Brooke heard the car door shut and the engine start.

  Alone once again, accompanied only by her depression.

  And worry.

  And a shattered heart.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Driving down the bumpy road to the trailer park outside Lewiston was his last resort. The detective hadn’t found any prints on the gas can other than Drew’s and his father’s, so he took matters into his own hands.

  Brooke had refused to speak to him. Wouldn’t accept his help.

  When he stopped by the camp two days ago, she wouldn’t even acknowledge his presence. He’d found her sitting at the edge of her dock, deep in thought. No matter what he said, she wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t respond to him.

  Respecting her need to be alone, he’d left her, but not without a heavy heart. This was never what he wanted to happen. To lose her this way. Hell yeah, he didn’t want the camp to open again—it stirred up too many bad memories. It served as a painful reminder of what a failure he’d been. How many lives could have been saved had he not been a fool.

  Brooke’s refusal at his offer to move in had hurt more than it should have. He’d acted irrationally, shrugging her off, not going to bed when she did. Once again, he’d failed at being good enough, and pretending he hadn’t been bothered by her rejection was the only way he knew how to handle it.

  The fire made him realize, without a doubt, how much he wanted Brooke in his life. The fact that she thought he could have been the one to start the fire hurt deeper than he cared to admit or reflect on. At first, he’d been angry and insulted that she could even think he’d do anything to harm her. But then he stepped back and looked at the situation from her perspective.

  Since he first met her, he’d been one hundred percent open and honest about his feelings about the camp opening again. Keeping it closed hadn’t healed him; the ghosts, the guilt still haunted him. It wasn’t like opening it up again would make him any more miserable.

  All it would do would keep Brooke close to him permanently. If anything, he should have been encouraging her to settle down in Angel Springs and open the summer camp. There was one other person, however, who wouldn’t want it to open again. Riding on that hunch was what brought him out to Lewiston, to a home he didn’t enjoy visiting.

  Turning off the ignition, he sat in his car for a moment, not wanting to go inside the trailer. If his instincts were right, it would stir up more heartache for everyone involved. It would bring back the painful memories that had already been at the forefront of his mind.

  Unable to put it off any longer, he stepped out of his car and made his way to the front door. The patch of green outside the trailer was mostly crabgrass and weeds, but the hanging plants he’d ordered last month were doing well.

  The overflowing purple petunias brightened the rust spots on the trailer. He knocked and heard the television shut off. The door opened a moment later, followed by a waft of stale cigarette smoke.

  “Good morning, Diane. I apologize for not calling first.”

  “Andrew, what a welcome surprise!”

  Not even his mother called him Andrew. For some reason he’d always hated it, but he’d never had the heart to correct Diane.

  “I haven’t seen you in years. Other than your delivery of summer flowers and your Christmas gifts, I’d plumb nearly forgotten what you looked like. Although I have your picture on the back of your books. I’ve read them all... some three or four times.” She led him through the cramped trailer and pointed out his books on her shelf.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “I wasn’t planning on guests. Sorry for the mess.” She cleared a coffee mug and an empty bowl from the table and put them in the sink.

  While the trailer was old, as were the furnishings, linoleum, and tattered rug, Diane kept it tidy. Even her appearance, despite his drop-in, was put together. She did the best she could with the little money she made waitressing at the diner down the road. And no matter how many times he’d offered, she refused to accept any money from him.

  Guilt couldn’t be paid off.

  “Have a seat and tell me what brings you by my neck of the woods on a beautiful summer day when you have the view of the water from your house.”

  Her perky demeanor meant she hadn’t heard the news. He hated to be the one to break it to her.

  “Someone purchased Camp Sunrise last month.”

  “I heard.” She picked up a cigarette and lit it, blowing the smoke over her shoulder. “It’s about time.”

  “You’re happy about it?”

  “Sure. I know hundreds of kids have fond memories there.” She took a long drag from her cigarette and held the smoke in before puffing it out.

  “It doesn’t... Even after... You want it to open up again?” Drew did his best to hide his shock at her nonchalant reaction.

  She took another drag and stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray. “It’s been a long time. I’ll never forget Ryan and the hurt will never go away, but that doesn’t mean the camp shouldn’t open again. It was a tragic accident. No one was at fault.” She got up and paced the small space. “Let’s sit outside.”

  Drew followed her out and took a seat on one of the folding camp chairs under an oak tree.

  “Ryan had been acting out and threatening to run away for two years before that summer. His father left us high and dry. Michael became the man of the house, and I was so caught up in trying to make ends meet and fighting Tommy for child support that I didn’t spend as much time with my boys as I should have.” Diane took a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and lit up again.

  This wasn’t why he stopped by. Bringing up the past was something he avoided doing. His visit today was about the present, about Michael. Somehow, he needed to steer the conversation toward him, but Diane continued with her story.

  “Ryan was getting in trouble at school, and I blew it off thinking it was typical boy behavior and that he was acting out because his father left us. That summer, one of the school counselors offered to pay for summer camp and Ryan seemed genuinely happy about going. I figured it would be good for him.” She took another drag of her cigarette and took her time blowing it out.

  It would have been had Drew been a better counselor. If he’d been where he was supposed to be.

  “Had I known when I dropped him off it would be the last time I’d see him alive—”

  “I’m so sorry, Diane. If I could turn back time, I would. I could have prevented the accident.”

  “Oh, honey,” she patted his leg affectionately, “you were just a boy as well. That was too much responsibility for someone your age. Eighteen and finding a boy... Well, it was too much. I can’t imagine how hard it was on you.”

  It would stay with him forever. He couldn’t change the past, but he could hopefully prevent another catastrophe from happening in the future. Especially when it involved the other Westleigh sibling.

  “Has Michael been back in town?” And out of jail? He’d been an angry juvenile, and his brother’s death didn’t help his issues any
. After a few stints in jail for petty crimes, he finally cleaned up his act and got his CDL license.

  “Yeah. He was doing so well, driving those big tractor trailers all over the country. I didn’t see him much, but he was working on getting back on his feet and keeping his nose clean. He came home about a month ago and hasn’t been back to work since. Said he’s got the summer off. I don’t know, though...” She flicked her cigarette into the dirt and squashed it with the toe of her sneaker. “He’s been drinking a lot. He’s angry all the time. Moody. Must be the anniversary of Ryan’s death, although it’s never affected him like this before.”

  The oatmeal he had for breakfast weighted heavily in his stomach. “Has he talked about the camp opening up again?”

  “Yeah. He and I don’t see eye to eye on it. Poor boy blames the place for taking his little brother’s life. Mikey had too much responsibility on his shoulders back then... still does.”

  “Has he seemed different to you lately?”

  Diane crossed her legs and settled back into her chair. “He does. I’m afraid being home isn’t good for him. He’s in a much better mood when he’s on the road. Is that why you stopped by? Have you seen Michael around town?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him,” he said honestly. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He didn’t want to throw Michael under the bus and rouse up trouble for the man if he was having a hard time staying upright. But if he wasn’t handling the opening of the camp well, then that could mean he had a hand in the fire.

  He got all the information he needed. Michael was back in Maine. And even though Lewiston was a solid two hours away, it was close enough for him to cause trouble in Autumn Pond.

  “I’ll always feel connected to you, Diane. Please, if you ever need anything, you know you can call me.”

  “Now you’re making me worry. Is something going on I don’t know about?”

  He debated not telling her. The story was already in the local papers and it was only a matter of time before it made its way to Lewiston.

  “Diane... there was a fire at the camp.”

  “Oh, how terrible. And right as someone bought it. How awful for the new owners.”

  Drew swallowed his guilt. This time it wasn’t about Ryan. “Someone was lurking around the new owner’s cabin a few weeks ago and caused some damage, and yesterday someone set fire to the mess hall.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” Diane placed her hand over her heart. She was a kind woman, innocent and possibly naïve. “You don’t think... Michael?”

  Or maybe not as naïve as he thought. “There’s a detective looking into it. Someone stole a gas can from my garage and most likely used it to start the fire.”

  Diane closed her eyes and held her head in her hands. She sat like that, a statue in pain, for a few minutes before speaking.

  “Thank you for stopping by, Andrew. I’ll be in touch if I hear anything.” She stood and slowly walked back into the trailer, the door closing quietly behind her.

  He’d been the one to find her youngest son dead, and now he hinted that her other son may be an arsonist. Working on solving the crime should have given him some satisfaction, but it only left him feeling more depressed.

  He waited until he was out of the city, and using his Bluetooth, he dialed the detective.

  “Flannery.”

  “It’s Drew Beckett. I have a potential lead for you.” He relayed the story of Ryan’s death, of Michael’s past run-ins with the law, and how he was back in Maine.

  “I appreciate the tip. We found a pair of discarded work gloves about a mile down the road from your house. Running DNA samples on them now.”

  “Have you heard from Brooke? I’ve been checking on the camp, but she hasn’t been there. Is she all right?”

  Charlie had told him she’d be staying in a hotel, but Drew worried, nonetheless.

  “I’ve been in touch.”

  They disconnected, and he drove home in silence.

  The words stopped coming to him, and he’d avoided answering the emails and phone calls from his agent and editor. He responded to his sister’s texts only because he didn’t trust her not to show up at his doorstep. He went for runs, cleaned the house, and read. Anything to escape the hollowness in his chest.

  What he really wanted was Brooke’s company. To be the butt of her jokes, to hear her laugh, to kiss her, and to hold her. Especially now when she was suffering such a loss, and even though she thought him guilty, he still couldn’t help loving her.

  Yes, he loved her. His loss of appetite and the heaviness in his limbs didn’t go away with his attempt at distracting himself. The only cure for what he had was being with her.

  Melancholy had been his mood for years until as of late. Only a few short weeks with Brooke and his attitude, his world, had turned around. At the time, he hadn’t thought he was sad or depressed. Looking back, he realized how lonely and isolated he’d made his life.

  He missed Brooke too much to stay away. Hoping she’d be at the camp, he jogged through the trail in search of her. He spotted her car parked in the small lot by the field. A good sign. Slowing his pace, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and strolled casually around the property, not wanting to scare her when he found her.

  The cabins were empty, as was the half-burnt hall, the yellow caution tape still warning off trespassers. He found her down by the pond, sitting on the edge of the dock, her bare feet in the water.

  It took three years after Shane’s death to come down to the dock again. The memories were still there but didn’t haunt him as they used to.

  Without saying a word, he took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans. Taking a seat next to her—although not as close as he’d like—he mirrored her actions, dipping his feet in the water as well.

  If she noticed him, she didn’t show it. Brooke didn’t twitch, didn’t speak, didn’t even let out a sigh. It was as if she was still alone with her thoughts. He didn’t want to intrude, but he needed to see her. It was pure selfishness that he joined her on the dock.

  Her not yelling at him to leave was progress. A loon floated on top of the water and swam close to them. That’s when he noticed the loaf of bread on the other side of her. She held a piece in her hand and tore off a hunk, tossing it out to the bird.

  He watched as two ducks swam over, begging for their share. When the bread was gone and the ducks realized their snack was over, they swam away, once again leaving them in silence.

  If he spoke and she told him to leave forever, his heart would shatter into even more pieces. And if he didn’t talk to her, he’d regret it forever.

  She was worth the risk. He was sick and tired of living his life with regrets. Brooke wouldn’t be one of them.

  “I miss you.” He kept his gaze straight ahead on the ducks but watched for movement out of his peripheral vision.

  She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest. The defeat she wore on her face twisted his already churning gut.

  “I never wished any of this on you. My feelings about this place have to do with the demons I’ve been fighting in my head for years. I would never, ever do anything to hurt you or your dreams. I swear. I promise you.”

  Giving her the time he knew she needed, he stayed quiet, the only noise coming from the quaking of the ducks and the boats in the distance.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  Drew strained to make sure he heard her correctly. He didn’t push for more, and his racing pulse steadied when she didn’t force him to leave. It still pained him that she’d believe even for a second that he could have set the fire.

  “I’m sorry if I came on too strong last week. I respect that you want your space. Asking you to move in with me wasn’t about trying to take away your freedom. I... care about you and worry about your safety out here alone. I thank God you weren’t here the morning of the fire. If anything had happened to you...”

  “I know,” she said again, this time lifting her head
though she still did not look at him. “I never really believed you set the fire. However, there were too many coincidences. I didn’t like that you didn’t want me to open the camp. And I don’t like relying on other people. There was too much pressure.”

  “I never meant to pressure—”

  “You didn’t. Not at all. It was how I interpreted it. If you haven’t noticed, I can be a bit strong-willed at times.”

  “It’s one of the many things I admire about you.” He scooted a little closer, still leaving some space in between them, but now close enough where their hands could accidentally brush up against each other if they wanted.

  “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. This has all been so... big.”

  Drew let his hand drop to his side and subtly moved it close to where hers rested on the deck and stroked the side of her pinky with his.

  “You don’t owe me an apology. First, I pressured you and then the fire. You’ve been through a lot in the past few days.”

  They’d only started dating, building their relationship, for a few weeks, yet he felt closer to her than he had with any other woman. The cliché was true—you knew when you knew.

  And he knew. He loved her. But if he told her now, she’d throw him into the water. She wasn’t ready to give or receive love, and he’d have to respect that. For now.

  “It’s not you. It’s me.” Another cliché. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me. I guess I don’t know what to do with kind. It scares me a little.” Brooke’s words came out soft and sad. So very out of character.

  “I’ll give you whatever space you need. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give you.”

  “See? I’m rude to you, practically accuse you of a heinous crime, yet you still dole out this kindness crap. You can’t help it.” She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand and cast him a sideways grin.

  It didn’t last long. Her cell phone rang loudly, cutting through the moment. He watched her hands shake as she picked it up.

  She blew out a loud sigh before she answered. “Detective?”

  Drew grasped her hand in his and squeezed.