The Way Back To Erin. Cerella Sechrist

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      She shifted, settling more comfortably on the bench that offered a magnificent view of the water, and started her weekly conversation.

      “So, you’ll never believe what happened yesterday. Tessa stood Burke up at their wedding.”

      It had felt strange, at first, speaking aloud when she was all by herself. She refrained if there were others nearby, but she’d learned that during this particular time of the day, on Sunday mornings, the lighthouse grounds were usually pretty empty. So this had became her time, the time she spent with Gavin.

      “Burke stayed at the inn last night. Aunt Lenora insisted.” Erin bit her lip, uncertain how much of her thoughts she wanted to voice aloud. “And now she’s invited him to stay for as long as he needs, until he can figure things out. I wish she hadn’t. I don’t want him living there. He’s never liked the Moontide.” She felt a ripple of guilt for such uncharitable thoughts. “I know he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, but it just seems...wrong, somehow. To have him there when you’re...not.”

      She sighed and paused in her one-sided conversation to watch a seagull swoop down over the water.

      She didn’t know how to express it. Or rather, didn’t want to speak aloud the real reasons Burke’s presence made her uneasy. She might have been talking to the air, but on some level, a small part of her believed Gavin could hear her. And she wasn’t willing to share her secret with him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

      “Sometimes, I think I’m a terrible person,” she whispered into the wind. “Burke just lost the woman he loves, and now he has nowhere to live. It makes sense for him to stay at the Moontide.”

      But his presence is a reminder of my guilt.

      She cleared her throat and fell silent as she noticed an older couple shuffling along the brick path that wrapped around the lighthouse. They were both hunched over slightly, their arms threaded tightly together as they moved along.

      Her heart ached. That was supposed to have been her and Gavin, growing old together, spending Sunday mornings walking beside the lighthouse. That had been the plan. There had never been any question that Findlay Roads was where they’d make their home after Gavin was finished with the army. It was here that they both had found peace after years of moving around the country—her as a military brat before her mom had settled her in Findlay Roads while she was still in the middle of high school and Gavin being shuffled between family members after his parents’ death. They’d wanted to raise Kitt there, to have him know the stability and relationships they had missed as a child.

      So much for that, Erin thought bitterly. All because one person had one drink too many and decided he wasn’t too drunk to drive. It was no consolation that the man responsible for taking Gavin’s life was serving a five-year prison sentence for vehicular homicide.

      Erin didn’t want revenge for what had happened. She wanted Gavin back. And nothing in the world could make up for the ocean of tears she’d cried nor the sadness that still resided in her son’s eyes.

      “It should be you,” she spoke aloud, now that the older couple had moved beyond earshot. “It should be you, living at the Moontide. Not Burke.”

      But deep down she wondered if this was fate’s way of punishing her for the past.

      * * *

      BURKE USED A utility knife to cut carefully into the drywall surrounding the crack Aunt Lenora had pointed out in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He felt Kitt at his side, though the little boy didn’t say a word. But he huddled close, and Burke sensed the child’s gaze fastened on his movements. He finished cutting and pulled away the drywall paper to begin chipping at the compound underneath. Kitt leaned in so close that Burke could feel the little boy’s breath on his chin.

      “You want to give it a try?”

      Kitt jerked back in surprise at being addressed.

      “It’s not hard,” Burke assured. “Watch.” He demonstrated how to use a drywall knife to scrape off any loose debris then held the handle toward Kitt.

      The little boy took it and edged in closer, tongue tucked between his lips, as he awkwardly tackled the repair Burke had started. His attempts to scrape the loose compound free resulted in a few more nicks to the wall.

      “Here, like this.” Burke took the smaller hand in his and helped guide the blade along the wall, loosening a spray of debris.

      “There you go.” He removed his hand and let Kitt have another try.

      The little boy moved slower this time but with more precision and after another minute, Burke moved away to get the drywall compound for the next step in the process. By the time he sat back down on the bedroom floor, Kitt had done a decent job of clearing the surface.

      “Not bad,” he declared. “Maybe we should go into business. Daniels and Daniels Drywalling. It has a nice ring to it.”

      Kitt didn’t say anything, but the grin he flashed was the biggest Burke had seen yet from his nephew.

      Burke continued the repairs and made short work of applying compound and sanding down the wall.

      “There we go. All that’s left is to paint.”

      “How’d you learn to do that?” It was the first Kitt had spoken since they’d come upstairs together.

      He shrugged in response. “I don’t know. I just picked it up somewhere, I guess.” He cocked his head. “Did you ever help your dad around the house?”

      Kitt didn’t respond but lowered his head. Burke winced. Kitt had only been four years old when Gavin had died. Not old enough to have participated in too many projects around the inn. And given how Gavin had been deployed in the army for months at a time only reminded Burke just how much Kitt had been shortchanged in his relationship with his father.

      “I probably picked it up from your dad, actually. He was always good at this kind of thing.”

      Kitt’s head lifted. He followed Burke as they moved into the hall, where Aunt Lenora had mentioned there was another crack that needed to be repaired.

      “He could fix anything,” Burke went on. “He was like the resident handyman here at the inn when we were teens.” Burke paused, remembering. “Actually, I’d forgotten that. Your dad and I both had chores when we lived here. I usually had to mow the lawn and rake leaves in the fall. But Gavin, he got all the repair jobs because he was so good at it. I mean, this house is old. So things were always breaking, and Gavin would fix them right up.”

      “How old?”

      “Hmm?” Burke asked distractedly as he searched for the crack Aunt Lenora had mentioned. He found it relatively easily. She, or perhaps Erin, had positioned a small table in front of the worst part to hide it. But it was still visible if you stood a few feet back. He put down the drywall tools and lifted the table out of the way.

      “How old is the Moontide?” Kitt asked.

      “Oh, way old. From before the 1800s. It was built several years after the end of the Revolutionary War, I think. I remember once this guy came to stay here for a weekend, and he kept talking at breakfast about the archeology of houses like this, how they survived attacks during the War of 1812 and stuff, when the British СКАЧАТЬ