About That Kiss. Cindy Miles

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СКАЧАТЬ made a dash for the mudroom. “Why do you call them sneakers, Mama? Are we gonna be busy sneakin’ around or something? It’s a funny name, Mama. Did your mama call them sneakers, too?”

      Sean’s insides turned, just a little, at the irony of Willa’s words. Sneakin’ around. She inhaled. Exhaled to brush the jolted feeling away. “That’s just what we called them when I was your age, is all.” She joined her daughter in the mudroom, pulled on her navy Keds. Willa set in her lap something that seemed to be becoming a more frequent part of her wardrobe. Sean gingerly fingered the costume fairy wings she’d picked up last Halloween.

      “Willa, seriously?”

      “Yes, Mama! We have to be fairies all the time!” Willa argued. Rather, crooned.

      Sean sighed, shoved her arms through the thin elastic bands that went around her shoulders to keep the wings in place, then helped Willa into hers. She imagined if something as simple as wearing a pair of sparkly fairy wings made her daughter happy, she’d gladly do it. They set out, with Willa nonstop chattering about everything her eyes lit upon, her little wings flapping up and down with her movements.

      “Now go find a superior pinecone, Willa Jane. One that will withstand a good kicking.”

      “Okay, I will!” Willa exclaimed, and took off into the dense yard of pines, scrub oaks and palms. She’d bend, retrieve a pinecone then inspect every single inch of it. Only the most perfect one would do.

      Sean stared out at the saltwater property they’d leased for the summer. She liked it. A little worn down, perhaps. Unkempt. The windows needed washing. The grass needed cutting. The inside was a little musty from being closed up for so long. But she felt safe. The furniture was old but sturdy, and the refrigerator kept things icy cold. Perfect, in her eyes.

      The small river house nestled in the shade beneath mammoth oak trees drenched in long, wispy Spanish moss. It looked like a picture straight out of a travel magazine. A fairly decent-size porch overlooked the back of the property, which meandered through tall magnolias and scrub palms, leading down to a single wooden dock that jutted out over the marsh and stopped at the river. At high tide, she and Willa could sit on the small wooden landing and dangle their feet into the water. This would be a nice retreat for a while.

      “Mama, you’re being so slow,” Willa called ahead of her. “I found the most stuperior pinecone. C’mon! I wanna walk through the graveyard.”

      “Willa, again?” Sean replied, catching up to her daughter. They crossed the small two-lane river road and headed down a worn dirt path scattered with bits of seashells that led to an old cemetery they’d come across a few days earlier. “Don’t you think it’s kinda scary?”

      “Nope!” Willa announced cheerfully, and having found the perfect pinecone, dropped it on the ground. She gave it a kick, then waited for Sean to take a turn. “It’s the place where all the lightning bugs go. Probably so the ghosts can see at night.”

      “It’s also a place where all the mosquitoes go,” Sean replied. “We’re going to get eaten up again.”

      “So? Just scratch it!” Will answered. “It’s fun, Mama. Hurry! Use your wings, why don’t ya? You’ll be faster that way!”

      Willa always had an answer. For everything. Her five-year-old mind never rested. And she feared nothing.

      Completely unlike Sean herself. Afraid of everything.

      As she and Willa took turns kicking the pinecone, Sean noticed the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon now, leaving the sky a grayish purple streaked with marigold. The light surrounding them was nothing more than a haze, and she could smell the salty sea. Even with Willa’s chatter and the occasional gull’s screech, Sean heard hundreds of night bugs begin to chirp. Cassabaw Station was a pretty place, a hidden gem that seemed to have wedged itself into another time and not budged. Ahead, Willa waited at the cemetery’s old rusty gate, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. Sean stepped clear of the path, met her daughter at the gate, lifted the old latch and they walked inside.

      “There’s one, Mama!” Willa cried out almost immediately. Sean looked, and sure enough, she’d already found a lightning bug. Then another, and another. Willa leaped and giggled as she chased the blinking insects, flitting around like a little firefly herself. Sean stood back and grinned. Savored the small moment of joy in their lives.

      “Careful not to step on the graves, Willa,” Sean called.

      “I’m careful!” Willa answered. “Come on, chase them with me!”

      Sean joined her daughter, and together, they raced, jumped and squealed as they cupped their hands together to capture the illuminated creatures, then peeked through the cracks of their fingers to see each little bug’s bottom light up. She watched Willa and thought how beautiful her daughter was; so young, innocent, carefree and full of love and laughter. Sean suddenly regretted not having a camera to photograph Willa, to catch her with the light just right, making her truly seem like a little woodland sprite. Sean prayed Willa would never know cruelty, possessiveness. Or evil. Only love. Joy.

      It was then that Sean heard heavy footsteps on the path. She stopped and whipped around. A dark figure jogged toward them, a neon yellow band around his head the only thing standing out. For a moment, fear strangled her insides, and her gaze darted to her daughter. To the figure, growing closer, then to her daughter again.

      He was big—much bigger than she was—and probably faster, too. Even from where she stood, and in the low light of dusk, she could tell he was muscular, fit. Sean didn’t know him, or anyone else on the island. And they were about as isolated as they could be. He was right between her and her daughter.

      “Willa, come here!” Sean called out. “We have to go. It’s getting dark fast.”

      “Mama, I’m busy!” Willa replied, annoyed. “Just a few more minutes.”

      “Willa, now!” Sean demanded, and broke into a run toward her. Sean had to reach Willa. She couldn’t let the jogger get close to her daughter.

      As the figure jogged past the cemetery, he spoke. “Evening,” he said in a low voice, with a short nod and a slight Carolina drawl. His longish hair was pulled back, and a beard covered his lower jaw.

      He kept on jogging.

      Sean kept her eyes on the man but didn’t reply. He ran in the direction she and Willa would return, then disappeared from sight.

      Sean’s tension slowly eased, and she turned to Willa. “Just a few more minutes, then.”

      “Thanks, Mama,” she cried, and continued chasing the lightning bugs and talking to the ghosts, as if they were all sitting around watching her.

      Sean let out a long sigh and turned her stare in the direction the stranger had disappeared. She hated that she allowed such terror. He’d been merely jogging, nothing more. The hazy light fell faster by each passing second, and she wondered briefly if she’d ever, ever stop looking over her shoulder. If the fear would ever leave her alone.

       CHAPTER TWO

      “MAMA! CAN WE get an ice cream cone? Please?”

      Sean shielded СКАЧАТЬ