every week I lit a candle in his memory. I’m a lapsed Buddhist, my family’s religion, which threw up roadblocks for a wedding in the Catholic Church, but we were working through it.
I left the church, unlatched the wrought iron gate to the cemetery, and made my way to his grave. The rain pounded against my face as I pushed the flower holder into the soft earth. When I stood up, I touched the gravestone where the rain streamed over the letters in his name.
“ Something’s happening to me,” I wept. “My hands are changing. I wish I could talk to you.”
The rain mingled with my salty tears. What would Ben have done in my shoes? He was a journalist. He would have returned to the island to search for a name, a sign, anything to identify the place. He would have gone after John Savenue regardless of the personal consequences.
But Ben wasn’t on earth anymore. I was on my own.
I wiped the rain off my face, ran to the Camaro, and decided to look for Luna’s leash and collar to take my mind off my misery. The rain was washing the snow away, so I should be able to see them on the ground. I peeled out of town toward the battlefield. The houses and traffic gave way to miles of woods and open fields.
After a few miles, my cell phone rang. I grabbed it off the seat.
“ Amy, it’s me,” Mike said, sounding like he had a big announcement.
I braced myself for more hovering. “What’s up?”
“ Well, you know, I want to apologize if I was in your face.”
“ Oh, no, you weren’t.”
“ I was just worried about you.”
“ It’s okay, I understand.”
“ How are your wrists?”
I lifted my sweatshirt sleeves and stared at my purple wrists and swollen hands. They actually looked like they were bulging, or maybe it was just the daylight. Horrified, I slipped the sleeves down.
“ They’re fine,” I lied.
“ I’ve got something for you, a present.”
My insides jolted. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t need a present.”
“ It would mean a lot to me,” he said, sounding disappointed. “You’ve been down and I thought it would cheer you up.”
“ Oh.” I crossed the Emmitsburg Road and entered the battlefield again. The woods deepened. “Well, sure, that’s sweet of you. The thing is I’m not at home right now. Just give me an hour, okay?”
I put the phone down and drove on toward Devil’s Den. A present. What did that mean?
The parking lot was empty, which I’d expected on a stormy winter day. I steered the Camaro past the grim boulders, up the winding road to the top of the hill, past the lone oak, and through the woods. I didn’t want to pull off and end up trapped in the mud, so I parked the Camaro on the road just before the pavement took a sharp right turn. The road was one way, so anybody coming after me would see the car.
No umbrella. I stuffed the keys in my jeans and sprinted under the trees.
The rain had turned the field we’d crossed earlier into a swamp. I waded out, balancing on rocks, didn’t see anything, and decided to climb the boulder strewn hillside. I couldn’t remember exactly where Luna had broken free or where we’d caught her. Everything looked different in the rain. Maybe this whole thing would turn out to be a complete waste of time, but I was going to give it my best shot.
The rain struck my face and pelted the trees as I scrambled over the rocks. No red in sight. The leash and collar had to be somewhere.
I thought I might be able to spot them if I climbed high enough, so I scaled a mossy embankment, lost my footing at first, and made it to the top, where I was shocked to see a man on the other side.
Chapter 11
I held my breath. He was only about fifteen feet away, but he didn’t see me. The man wore a hooded olive green rain slicker and was bending over in the weeds, collecting something. Feathers. What the hell was he doing collecting feathers in a freaking rainstorm?
He put the feathers in a canvas bag, but when he opened it I
I left the church, unlatched the wrought iron gate to the cemetery, and made my way to his grave. The rain pounded against my face as I pushed the flower holder into the soft earth. When I stood up, I touched the gravestone where the rain streamed over the letters in his name.
“ Something’s happening to me,” I wept. “My hands are changing. I wish I could talk to you.”
The rain mingled with my salty tears. What would Ben have done in my shoes? He was a journalist. He would have returned to the island to search for a name, a sign, anything to identify the place. He would have gone after John Savenue regardless of the personal consequences.
But Ben wasn’t on earth anymore. I was on my own.
I wiped the rain off my face, ran to the Camaro, and decided to look for Luna’s leash and collar to take my mind off my misery. The rain was washing the snow away, so I should be able to see them on the ground. I peeled out of town toward the battlefield. The houses and traffic gave way to miles of woods and open fields.
After a few miles, my cell phone rang. I grabbed it off the seat.
“ Amy, it’s me,” Mike said, sounding like he had a big announcement.
I braced myself for more hovering. “What’s up?”
“ Well, you know, I want to apologize if I was in your face.”
“ Oh, no, you weren’t.”
“ I was just worried about you.”
“ It’s okay, I understand.”
“ How are your wrists?”
I lifted my sweatshirt sleeves and stared at my purple wrists and swollen hands. They actually looked like they were bulging, or maybe it was just the daylight. Horrified, I slipped the sleeves down.
“ They’re fine,” I lied.
“ I’ve got something for you, a present.”
My insides jolted. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t need a present.”
“ It would mean a lot to me,” he said, sounding disappointed. “You’ve been down and I thought it would cheer you up.”
“ Oh.” I crossed the Emmitsburg Road and entered the battlefield again. The woods deepened. “Well, sure, that’s sweet of you. The thing is I’m not at home right now. Just give me an hour, okay?”
I put the phone down and drove on toward Devil’s Den. A present. What did that mean?
The parking lot was empty, which I’d expected on a stormy winter day. I steered the Camaro past the grim boulders, up the winding road to the top of the hill, past the lone oak, and through the woods. I didn’t want to pull off and end up trapped in the mud, so I parked the Camaro on the road just before the pavement took a sharp right turn. The road was one way, so anybody coming after me would see the car.
No umbrella. I stuffed the keys in my jeans and sprinted under the trees.
The rain had turned the field we’d crossed earlier into a swamp. I waded out, balancing on rocks, didn’t see anything, and decided to climb the boulder strewn hillside. I couldn’t remember exactly where Luna had broken free or where we’d caught her. Everything looked different in the rain. Maybe this whole thing would turn out to be a complete waste of time, but I was going to give it my best shot.
The rain struck my face and pelted the trees as I scrambled over the rocks. No red in sight. The leash and collar had to be somewhere.
I thought I might be able to spot them if I climbed high enough, so I scaled a mossy embankment, lost my footing at first, and made it to the top, where I was shocked to see a man on the other side.
Chapter 11
I held my breath. He was only about fifteen feet away, but he didn’t see me. The man wore a hooded olive green rain slicker and was bending over in the weeds, collecting something. Feathers. What the hell was he doing collecting feathers in a freaking rainstorm?
He put the feathers in a canvas bag, but when he opened it I
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