My cheeks warmed and I playfully pushed him away, smiling. “Ridge, I was just thinking about you.”
He smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but he thought better of it and then his tone changed. “When did you get here?” he asked in a low voice, while looking over his shoulder at the dining room.
“Uh, just fifteen minutes ago or so. Are you okay?” I asked, matching the volume of my voice to his.
“No, Mari, I’m not okay,” he said as he grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me into a dark corner. “You got in? That’s good to know.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked him.
He didn’t seem to hear me. He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. He swore under his breath, then stuck his hand out to me. “Let me see your phone,” he said.
I pulled it from my back pocket and handed it to him.
“No service. Shit,” Ridge said.
I took my phone back and then grabbed him by his shoulders. “Okay, stop,” I said. “Answer me.” My mind was spinning at the sight of him.
Ridge closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Does anything seem odd to you?” His light turquoise eyes were narrowed when they opened.
“You mean other than the way you’re acting?” I let out a breath and stared at him with wide eyes.
“I’m serious, Mari. The town and everyone here—something isn’t right.”
A feeling of dread dropped into my stomach, and he seemed to notice it too. I thought this might have been normal, but that was stupid of me. I leaned in closer to him, to ensure that no one could hear us. “I noticed that things were different, but I also haven’t been in Beaconfield in six years or so. I just thought things had changed.”
Ridge shook his head vigorously. “No. I come home every weekend and it’s always fine, normal. But I was down at the water like thirty minutes ago and when I came back up, everything was . . . dark.” He looked scared as his eyes darted around.
“Why are you home now?” I asked. It was only Wednesday.
“Fall break,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“Oh. Okay, so what’s going on then?”
He shrugged and then through a clenched jaw said, “I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“Ridge, slow down for a second. Come sit with me at my table, my food is probably waiting—”
“Your grandmother!” he interrupted. “Is she all right? Does she know what’s going on?”
I stopped and shook my head. I hadn’t thought to wonder if Grandma was okay. I pulled my phone out again and checked to see if the service was still out. It was.
“I mean, I’m sure she’s fine, but I haven’t seen her yet. Come sit with me while I eat.” I grabbed Ridge’s arm and pulled him into the dining room. Heads turned in our direction and everyone stopped eating.
“No,” he protested, but came along anyway. “There’s something going on. I need to figure this out.”
I pushed him down into the seat across from mine and leaned toward him. Before I opened my mouth, he grabbed a drink menu and put it up between us and the rest of the restaurant. I blushed at the thought of being this close to him. I felt a smile on my face even though I wasn’t particularly happy about the means of our reunion.
As Ridge peeked over the menu, I snuck a longer look at him. His jaw was strong with hints of teenage acne and light stubble. I had a sudden urge to reach across the table and put a hand on his cheek, but I stopped myself. His gaze returned to me then, and a prefect smile spread across his face. My heart melted.
“Can I get you something to eat, sir?”
Ridge and I both jumped and turned to see his mother standing at the table. We’d been so distracted by one another that we hadn’t seen her approach. For a moment, Ridge and I just stared at Shay while she stared at us in return.
“Mom?” Ridge asked slowly. “Are you okay?”
“Can I get you something to eat, sir?” she repeated with a look of confusion on her face.
“Do you know who I am?” He reached for his mother’s hand, but she pulled away.
“I’ll come back in a few moments,” she said with a nod and then walked away.
“What the hell is going on?” Ridge asked, watching his mom on the other side of the room.
I paused and looked around the restaurant. “Do you think something’s wrong with my grandmother?” I asked, feeling a panic begin to grow in my chest.
“Let’s not worry just yet. She’s probably at the house. Come on,” he said, pushing up from the table. “I’ll go with you to check on her.”
“What about your mom?” I asked. She stood at the hostess stand, staring straight ahead, unblinking.
“It doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere anytime fast. I want to look for West. I need to make sure he’s okay.”
I nodded and grabbed my backpack and strapped it on. Ridge grabbed the handle of my suitcase and rushed to the door. I kept my head down to avoid looking at the citizens of Beaconfield. I could feel all of their eyes on us. But they didn’t move.
Once we were outside, I didn’t feel any better. It seemed to be colder than it had been thirty minutes ago when I’d entered the diner. There was a breeze coming off the water and leaves skittered across the street.
Ridge and I set off south on Main Street toward Lavender Point and our houses. The wheels of my suitcase were loud on the cobblestoned walk, so Ridge lifted the bag and carried it between us. Without that noise the street was too quiet. The normal sounds of Beaconfield were absent: no children laughing, no squawking birds, just the wind and the Atlantic Ocean in the distance.
“So, how is your brother?” I asked him. I thought back to the first time I’d met West. It was the first summer that I’d gone to Beaconfield when I was five years old.
The Abbotts lived next door to my grandparents, just a short walk through a path in the trees. My grandmother told me to go next door and introduce myself to the kid that lived there. He was climbing in a tree in the front yard while his mother watched and rocked a small child.
That small child was West—he was only a year old then. He was so little when he was younger, and he was sick often. As he grew up, he was such a sweet kid. He was capable, charismatic, and strong, but as he got older I began to notice a change in him.
The change was gradual for his family, but for me, only seeing him once a year, it was obvious. He was confused often and became angered easily. After a few episodes of hearing voices, his mother took him to the doctor. They diagnosed him with schizophrenia—a boy in a ghost town who heard voices.
He started his treatment immediately after, but the medication he was on made him lack motivation and interaction. He’d become a shell of himself, but the medication kept the voices at bay.
“He’s okay,” Ridge said. He grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling it away from his neck.
I chuckled slightly.
“What are you laughing at?” Ridge’s head spun in my direction.
I laughed harder. “You’re lying to me,” I said through my giggle. “When we were kids, you would always pull on your shirt when you were lying.” I pointed to his hand.
He looked down at his chest, probably just realizing he was doing it. There was a hint of a smile on his lips. I noticed a freckle on his top lip and then had to shake myself back to reality.
“Okay, you’re right.” Ridge scoffed and hung his head. “He’s definitely gotten worse since the last time you saw him.”
My face fell. I shouldn’t have been laughing—his brother’s health wasn’t a joke. I knew how much West meant to Ridge. He’d made it his mission as his big brother to take care of him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, staring at my sneakers.
“No, don’t be sorry. We’ve learned to manage it over the years. West went to an institution for a while a couple years ago and it really helped him. I come home from school every weekend to spend time with him.”
; “Where are you going to school?”
“I’m going to Bowdoin College, studying economics.” He smiled, his eyes going a little misty.
“And by your reaction, I’d say you love it.” I giggled slightly.
Ridge shifted my bag into his other hand and laughed. “I do.” He flashed me a smile. “You look good, Mars,” he said with a smirk.
I felt my whole body flush. It was like I’d never seen an attractive guy before. I placed a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Six whole years,” Ridge said. “What have you been up to?”
My heart sank. I didn’t want him to be disappointed with me like everyone else. I didn’t want to lie to him either. “Uh, not much. I graduated back in June and now I’m looking for a job.” I cleared my throat.
“No more school?”
Oh no, here comes the judgement, I thought.
“No, not right now. I may go at some point, but I don’t feel like wasting my money on something and not liking it, you know?” After the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was babbling at him. I didn’t want him to judge me.
“That’s smart.”
My mouth fell open. What did he say? It took me a moment to respond, I was so shocked.
“Uh, yeah, I think so. My parents hate it, though.” I laughed nervously.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilder want you to go to college?” Ridge questioned sarcastically, and I threw my head back, laughing loudly. “That’s completely unexpected.” He smiled at me again.
I felt happy in that moment, looking at his face.
But then we walked under a dense canopy of pines, oaks, and maples. The wind blew stronger down the road, the trees created a tunnel. My grandmother’s necklace suddenly felt tight around my neck. I reached up and gripped it, feeling the points of the metal dig into my hand.
After a moment, I tucked the necklace back into my shirt and stepped a bit closer to Ridge as we continued on.
“We’ve been fighting a lot. They actually didn’t even want me to come to Beaconfield for the funeral.”
Ridge stopped and put down my bag as he turned to me. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest, and I felt the breath leave my lungs. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather.” His chest vibrated with his words.
I felt my eyes close as I sunk into the hug, wrapping my arms around him in return.
We stood there for a moment, and he pulled away too soon. He squeezed my arms and gave me a half smile. I felt the breath come back to me.
“Your parents have always wanted what’s best for you.”
“They just won’t let me live the life that I want to,” I grumbled.
Ridge nodded thoughtfully. “But you have to remember that your parents love you, and that’s their motivation for everything they do.”
“Yeah, I know that. But their motivations suck sometimes.”
He shrugged. “Well, sure, but your family is all you really have in the end.”
“Speaking of family,” I said.
We’d come up to the house on the little hill. The house was decorated with overgrown plants and ivy. Grandma was a strong believer in letting plants grow until they needed to be cut for their own safety. The siding was stark white in the sunlight, but now, in the dark, it looked to be a shade of blue. The eaves of the house had spindles springing from each of them, making the house look like it was reaching toward the sky.
I could see the lighthouse more clearly now, peeking through the tall pines. I looked up at the stone-colored exterior of the house and felt my heart flutter, memories flashing across my mind. The only lights on in the house were the ones in the entryway and the living room.
We walked down the path and through the apple trees. The trees were bare, which was surprising because harvest season started in August. I reached up and fingered one of the leaves, but it cracked off and floated to the ground.
We made our way to the porch and noticed that the lavender plants framing the steps were dying, which was strange for such a resilient plant. We continued up the steps of the wraparound porch and faced the front door. The door was huge and painted black. It had a large metal mermaid knocker that sat in the middle of it.
I grabbed the tail and knocked three times. After a moment, we didn’t hear a noise. Ridge and I looked to each other. I picked up the flower pot next to the door. A key was resting underneath it. I unlocked the door and heard the telltale squeak of the hinges.
“Grandma?” I yelled. There was no response. I closed the door behind us and placed my things on the floor before looking up. The entryway’s ceiling held a beautiful golden chandelier. I used to lie in front of the door and stare up at the reflection. When someone would walk across the floor directly above it the light would sway, causing the light to splash onto other walls.
I took in a deep breath, recognizing the familiar chamomile scent of the house. I grabbed the wooden banister of the stairs and called up, “Grandma?” I listened. Nothing. Maybe she was out in the garden.
“You take the upstairs,” I said to Ridge.
He nodded and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I turned to the left and headed into the living room. The hardwood floors were covered in colorful Persian rugs. My grandad had said that he’d put them down to mask the sounds of the creaking floorboards, but I knew that he also did it because my grandmother loved them. There were so many patterns in the room between the rugs, curtains, pillows, and couches.
I walked to the fireplace and scanned my grandmother’s collection that sat on the mantel. There was a picture of Grandma and Grandad from their first date in a vintage metal frame. I touched it lightly with my fingertip. Grandad had his arm thrown around her shoulder, pulling her into a hug while Grandma laughed.
The frame next to it held a picture of me and my parents. I was maybe four years old, in between them with one arm around each of their necks. I smiled softly at the photo. My dad looked so young—he had facial hair back then and his eyes didn’t look so tired. My mom was beautiful, as always, but she looked so carefree and happy.
There were a few crystals on the mantel as well: amber, topaz, and garnet. Behind the pictures sat my graduation photo that was taken five months ago. I was smiling at the camera in my cap and gown. My skin was pale and my eyes ice blue, and my wavy hair dark as the black graduation cap I wore. I didn’t know that my mom had sent Grandma a copy of the picture.
The floor creaked behind me.
I turned, and my grandmother was there.
“Grandma, Jesus,” I gasped. I placed a hand over my chest and took a deep breath.
Grandma stood in front of me, staring, unmoving. She opened her mouth and then closed it, over and over. Her eyes were hollow and blank. But even more terrifying, the color in her eyes was gone. They were completely white. A cold feeling rushed down my body, and I shivered.
“Grandma?” I asked as I reached out and grabbed her wrist. When my fingers touched her skin, I gasped at how cold she was. I pulled back but her hands shot out and grabbed me. A strangled noise bubbled up in my throat as I tried to pry her fingers from my arms.
We struggled for a few moments my body grew cold and my stomach churned. What was happening? What was she doing? I wanted to scream but I couldn’t—the fear paralyzed me. She let one hand loose from my arm and reached out toward my neck, grabbing at my chest. I continued to push her away until suddenly she froze.
Her arms dropped limp to her sides, swinging slowly as her head hung. It seemed like hours before she or I moved, and I didn’t realize that I was holding my breath until she took a deep and loud breath inward. Her head snapped up and she blinked repeatedly, the blue coming back into her eyes. She looked at me in shock. “Marigold?” she asked, shaking her head slightly.
Ridge came crashing down the stairs and looked into the room after me. “Are you okay?” he asked, out of breath.
I shook my head at him, panicking. I turned back to my grandmother. “Are you all right? What’s go
ing on?” I grabbed her hands and held them tight.
“I don’t know. Why are you here?” She shook her head and pulled me into a tight hug, holding me.
I squeezed her back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. She smelled of apples. I sighed deeply, glad she was okay.
“Oh, I missed you, Marigold,” she said quietly.
I pulled back from the hug and stared into her familiar blue eyes. “Grandma, I’m here for Grandad’s funeral,” I whispered softly, brushing her hair from her face.
She blinked slowly and then said, “What?”
I didn’t think I’d have to rehash these feelings with my grandmother, but there we were, sitting on the couch holding hands as I explained to her what had happened in the past week. She held on tightly to my hands as she cried softly into her chest.
Ridge came in from the kitchen carrying two steaming cups of tea. He placed mine on the table in front of me and gave my grandmother hers. He pulled a blanket from the back of the chair in the corner and wrapped it around Grandma’s shoulders.
She took a deep drink from her cup and then let out a sigh. “So, what happened?”
I swallowed and reached for the mug of tea to warm my hands. “What do you remember?” I asked quietly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ridge making his way to the front door. I raised my hand to get his attention and gestured to the chair in the living room.
“Could you stay, please? At least for a little while?” I gave him a tight smile.
He nodded. “Sure. Let me just go get something to drink. Do you ladies need anything else?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Abbott,” My grandmother said with sadness in her eyes. Just before Ridge was out of view, he gave me a slight wink, which made my heart jump.
“Grandma, you called Mom last week and told her that Grandad had a heart attack.” I paused to gauge her reaction. She tried to take a breath, but it got caught and she brought a hand to her throat.
“Um, and then you took him to the hospital where he died during the operation . . .”
My grandmother let out a rattling breath and nodded. “I remember now,” she whispered as tears slid down her slightly wrinkled cheeks. “You’re here for the funeral.”
Beaconfield Page 6