The front bell chimed—a deep, tonal echo throughout the house. Hannah stood to answer the door right as Alice appeared in the kitchen doorway, hesitant and on the verge of tears.
“Alice! What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing!” She wiped her eyes. “I just . . . it’s so strange now. I miss her. Stuart knows something’s amiss. He’s out of sorts.”
“Why? What is he doing?” Hannah couldn’t imagine what “out of sorts” meant for a semiconscious man.
“He’s moaning. I upped his morphine drip, but I don’t think it’s pain. I . . . I know what pain looks like on him. He’s trying to talk. He’s upset.”
Hannah was at a loss. The door chimed again. She held her finger up to Alice. “Please don’t leave. Let me just see who this is, okay?”
Alice nodded, and Hannah walked quickly across the living room, through the sitting room, down the hall, and into the foyer. The foyer was grand, stretching all the way to the peak of the roof. Sconces dotted the walls, and an imposing crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. The room was all deep-colored woods, forest greens, and blues, and it looked as regal as anything Hannah had ever seen. She’d forgotten about the foyer; it was so rarely used.
She opened heavy double doors that moaned under their own weight.
She felt, in an instant, light headed and breathless. Standing on the stone steps was a man she hadn’t seen since he was a boy. Since the night, seventeen years ago, that had altered both their lives. She knew her face registered the same shock she saw in his. He wore jeans and a blazer, his reddish-brown hair curling into his eyes, which widened at the unexpected sight of her.
“Hannah.” His voice was the same as it had been when he was eighteen: throaty but kind. Hannah closed her eyes and, for a moment, could hear him all over again: Please, don’t leave. When she opened them, he hadn’t moved. In his hand, he held a badge.
Wyatt McCarran.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Then
June 2001
When Julia first suggested they ride their new bikes down Valley Road, Hannah had to admit she was skeptical. The road down was treacherous, and what could be so great about the small, dumpy street that was Rockwell? They’d been there with Aunt Fae, food shopping or running errands (or once visiting Aunt Fae’s kooky friend Jinny Fekete, who smelled like smoke and oil). But they’d never gone alone. They hadn’t needed to! They had each other, the forest, the river, the gardens, the castle. Why did they need to now?
Julia packed a backpack with sunscreen and towels, a book and sunglasses, and declared she was going with or without her sister.
“There’s a pool here.” Hannah wanted her sister all to herself. She wanted last summer all over again. She wanted to find the little door in the side of the hill. There had been a small winding creek that had a mouth at the Beaverkill a half mile through the woods. They were going to look at maps and figure it out.
A trip to the public pool wasn’t in the plans.
Julia laughed. “When it’s not turning blood red?” She hadn’t gone swimming since that day, despite Hannah’s pestering.
“It was a rust reaction, Jules. It’s not gross. Stuart had it cleaned up in a day.” Hannah tried to remember what Uncle Stuart had told them. “It was from copper, I think? He treated the pool that morning. Vacuumed out the sediment. It was an easy fix.”
“I don’t care. It looked like a crime scene. He has an excuse for everything that happens around here. They both do, and it’s not right. I’m going a little nuts at the thought of another summer. Okay?” Julia stopped throwing stuff into her bag and faced Hannah. “This place is just freaking me out.”
“Why, though?” Hannah felt the weirdness, too, but it never scared her exactly. Nothing truly bad had ever happened. She just knew she never felt alone, even in her room at night. “It’s not new. It’s just . . . Brackenhill.”
“Everything feels different this year. Something’s happened.” Julia sighed and shook her head. She started to speak and thought better of it. “I just . . . it doesn’t give you the creeps? We could be murdered, and no one would ever know. We’re so isolated.”
“Who would murder us?” Hannah threw her hands in the air. The whole conversation was infuriating! Honestly. They lived in a fairy tale three months a year, and Julia wanted to throw it all away for what? Drama. They both had that at home in spades.
“Please, Han? Please?” Julia placed her hands on Hannah’s shoulders. “Look, I just want something different, okay? We’ll come back and do all the things I know you want to. Just you and me. It’ll be like old times. But wouldn’t it be fun to find other people our age? We could have friends. A summer crew. Who knows? Maybe there’s a cute guy hiding down in Rockwell.”
Julia had gone boy crazy sometime in the last year. Josh Fink was always hanging around, and Hannah watched her sister flirt with everyone from lifeguards at the Y to the grocery baggers. Frankly, it was gross.
“Aunt Fae will kill us, you know.” It was a last-ditch effort, but Julia just shot her a look and shrugged.
“Then we won’t tell her.”
Fine. They’d go.
At the pool, Julia shucked her jean shorts and T-shirt to reveal a black ruffled bikini Hannah had never seen before, showing off a new deep well of cleavage that Julia was always adjusting, scrutinizing. Hannah wore her two-year-old racer-back Speedo and spent half the day pulling it out of her bottom.
Julia spread the towel on the grass and adjusted her sunglasses. She leaned back on her elbows and crossed her ankles. Her oily skin glistened in the sunlight.
“Don’t you want SPF?” Hannah asked her, but Julia didn’t bother to answer. “Is this what we’re going to do? Lie here? Like . . . old ladies?”
Julia dug into the bag, produced a ten-dollar bill, and handed it to Hannah.
“Where’d you get this?” Hannah took it, eyeing her sister suspiciously.
Julia shrugged. “Aunt Fae’s purse. She won’t miss it. Now go get a soda or something, okay? You’re driving me crazy.”
Hannah ambled across the grass toward the snack pavilion and took her place in line. She surveyed the crowd: teenagers and small children being chased by harried parents. Girls lounging like Julia, skin plump and sparkling in the midday sun. Huddled groups of girls being eyed by a line of four boys. One of them laughed and tossed a blue playground ball in their direction. The girl squealed and batted the ball back, but it rolled and came to rest at Hannah’s feet. Gingerly, she kicked it with her toe until it rolled back down the hill.
“Hiya, can I help you?”
She was next. She surveyed the board above her head. “Um, can I get a Coke and an order of fries?”
“Sure. Pepsi okay?” The boy behind the counter had reddish-brown curly hair and an impish smile.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Hannah didn’t smile back. She moved to the side and let the boy take other orders. After a few moments, the wooden screen door on the side swung open, and the boy emerged holding a paper boat filled with fries and a fountain soda.
“Here ya go!” He was cheerier than he should have been. He was working at the hottest place at the pool, for God’s sake. He held the boat out to her, and as she brought her hand up to retrieve it, her fingertips brushed his hand. A weird little jolt zinged up her arm, and the boy suddenly let go. Fries scattered at her feet. She managed to hold on to the soda but jumped back, the liquid sloshing out all over the front of her old red bathing suit.