Happily Never After. Kathleen O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ old guard. She’d done it herself, before Sophie had picked her for a friend.

      “No, thanks,” she said. “I’ve had enough drama for one day. Did I tell you Samantha came by to see Jacob? She wasn’t at the service, but she stopped in at the house afterward.”

      “Yeah? Did she bring her crazy brother?”

      Kelly settled onto the truck’s sensible cloth seats and shut her eyes. Brian had owned this pickup ever since she first met him, and the familiar smell and rhythmic rocking were relaxing.

      “You mean Sebastian?” She shook her head sleepily. “No, Sebastian lives somewhere in North Carolina. He’s not even in town.”

      “Yes, he is.”

      She opened her eyes. “What are you talking about? Sebastian is back in Cathedral Cove? How do you know that?”

      “I saw him. Today, in the store. I sold him a hunting knife and a pair of sneakers. Too bad he didn’t want to buy a gun. I would have loved to do a background check on that one. I’ll bet we’d find that he’s been in more loony bins than his sister.”

      She sat up straight. “Sebastian is back?”

      “That’s what I said, like three times now.” He cut a quick glance her way. “What’s wrong with that? He’s weird, but no weirder than the rest of them.”

      “But…” She felt a tightness in the pit of her stomach. What a coincidence that Sebastian should come home right now, just when Lillith died, just when Tom showed up for the first time in ten years.

      And Lillith had told Kelly that Sophie was back, too. If all of it was true, this would be the first time the whole Mellon family—and Tom Beckham—had been in Cathedral Cove together since the wedding.

      She braided her fingers in her lap. It just didn’t feel right. It felt downright unnatural, as disturbing as if she had looked up and seen the stars crawling out of their prescribed places, sliding slowly into some new, mysterious configuration.

      Could this be what Trig had meant when he’d said, “He’s dangerous when he’s angry”? Could he have meant Sebastian? Kelly had seen Sebastian angry only a few times during their teenage years, but it had been a sight to remember. Trig, living next door, might have seen even more.

      Was it possible that, in his foggy, incoherent way, Trig had been trying to tell her something important?

      “Talk to me, Kel. What’s the big deal about Sebastian being home?”

      She tried to focus, to articulate her vague anxieties. “It’s just that…if Sebastian’s here, and Tom’s here…” She paused. “I wonder if he knows Tom’s here?”

      “So what if he does? You think Sebastian will hunt down Tom Beckham and kick his ass for what he did to sister Sophie ten years ago? Cripes, will you people ever let that damn story go? It’s over, for God’s sake. Get a grip.”

      She told herself that Brian probably was right. Even lava-hot emotions could do a lot of cooling down in a decade. At the time of the jilting, Sebastian had been very defensive for Sophie. But though Sebastian and Sophie had been inseparable as young people, they must have grown apart through these past few years.

      Sophie had spent so much time in institutions. And Sebastian, Kelly had heard, had married out in Raleigh. He had children and a career, stockbroker or something. Obviously, at least to some degree, he had moved on.

      They were nearing the Mellon house now. She could see the tower from here. It was completely dark tonight. But that didn’t mean it was empty, only that the lights were out. She shivered, thinking of someone standing up there, in the shadows, looking down.

      How much could you see from there?

      Could you see the foot of the East River Bridge?

      “Brian,” she said suddenly. “Will you sleep at my place tonight? I’ve put a bed in the guest room, so you wouldn’t have to take the sofa.”

      He tilted his head, smiling. “Spooky old dump finally starting to give you the creeps?”

      “No,” she said quickly. “It’s just that—”

      She thought of the waiting, silent trees around her studio. She thought of Lillith’s face covered in blood, and Trig standing in Jacob’s kitchen, talking cryptically about God and danger.

      To heck with saving face. Tomorrow she’d be strong. Tonight she needed a friend. “Yes.”

      Brian drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Well…. Marie won’t like it.”

      “Oh.” She tried to control her disappointment. But the idea of being out there alone tonight, with no car… “Never mind, then. I wouldn’t want to cause trouble between you two. If you think you shouldn’t—”

      “I never said that. I just said Marie wouldn’t like it. Maybe that’s a good thing.” He waggled his eyebrows. “A little jealousy might be exactly what the doctor ordered.”

      “Thanks,” she said, almost ashamed of the relief that coursed through her. She definitely had to get back to being tough tomorrow. “I appreciate it, Brian. I really do.”

      She turned her head and stared out the window. They were approaching the spot where Lillith had hit the tree. In a minute they would have to cross the East River Bridge, over to the area unofficially known as the “Left Bank.” Over there, the houses were smaller, funkier, just starting to come back from a long economic down-slide.

      Tight zoning was a luxury the Left Bank couldn’t afford. Artsy yuppie condos were haphazardly mixed in with coffee shops, antiques mini-marts and New Age candle boutiques. Beyond the Left Bank lay the rural fringes, where your neighbors were mostly trees, or people who owned guns and horses and dogs named Zeke.

      It was out there that Kelly had bought her new place, a surprisingly charming run-down cottage with a detached garage that made the perfect studio. So though she definitely lived, in Cathedral Cove parlance, far, far on “the wrong side of the bridge,” she loved it. Most of the time.

      Just not tonight.

      “Look,” Brian said. “Someone has already put up a marker for Lillith.”

      Kelly saw it at the same time. On the side of the road, just a couple of feet from the tree, a waist-high circular sign stood, announcing to all passersby that tragedy had visited this spot.

      Through the years, she’d seen a hundred roadside markers just like this one. But they had always seemed comfortably impersonal, just small, circular plaques that said Drive Carefully, sometimes decorated with crosses, sometimes with flowers, depending on how recent the accident had been. She had always driven by without much more than a generic whisper of sympathy.

      But this one was different. She wondered who had put it there. It hadn’t been there this morning.

      Jacob hadn’t been in any shape to think of such a gesture. Someone had, though. At least four arrangements of flowers clustered on and around it—and an elaborate floral wreath had been hooked over the top of the sign, like a crown or a halo.

      And СКАЧАТЬ