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“She wasn’t like you,” Sebastian says.
“What does that mean?”
He continues like I haven’t spoken at all. “Although by the time I met her, she’d spent six months on the island, so maybe she was like you in the beginning.”
“Was it Lucinda who beat the marks into her back or was it your father?”
Gregory puts the last of his steak into his mouth, as if what I just asked was completely normal. All the while he’s studying me, his eyes unreadable.
Sebastian wipes his mouth and puts his napkin on the table, finished with his meal.
“I saw them once,” I say. “I still remember them. I thought they were tattoos. I had no idea.”
“My father suffered after my mother’s death. I don’t know that he ever got over it. In a way, your aunt became a friend to him, and more,” Sebastian says. “Lucinda hated her for that.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question.” I look at Gregory.
“It was my mother who put those marks on your aunt’s back,” Gregory says.
I guess I didn’t expect such a direct answer, especially from him because it’s still his mother we’re talking about. Maybe I don’t expect him to speak to me at all. Every time he does, it’s like he has to.
“Our father didn’t stop her, which in my eyes, makes it as much his fault as hers,” Gregory continues.
“Did you witness the punishments?”
“Some,” Gregory answers.
“You didn’t stop them either?”
“My brother was eight and I was twelve, Helena. We couldn’t have stopped them if we wanted to,” Sebastian replies.
“Did you want to?”
“Christ. Leave it alone,” Sebastian says.
“She has a right to know if she wants to know, brother,” Gregory says.
Sebastian turns to him. “But the problem, brother, is that Helena has a habit of asking questions she doesn’t really want to know the answers to.”
“I want to know,” I say.
“Why?” Sebastian asks. “What purpose would it serve?”
“I can bear witness.”
“Again, what purpose would it serve?”
“She has a right,” Gregory repeats.
I turn to Gregory. “Do you want this? Do you want a turn with me?”
Sebastian snorts.
Gregory studies me for a long time before answering. “I know my duty as a Scafoni.”
“But do you want it?”
“That’s enough, Helena,” Sebastian says. “Go to your room.”
“I haven’t had dessert.” I retort as a girl appears with a tray of cakes.
Sebastian narrows his eyes at me but doesn’t say anything when the girl comes to serve us. We eat the rest of the meal in silence.
When we’re finished, Gregory pushes his chair back and walks out toward the pool, straddles one of the lounge chairs there, and takes out a pack of cigarettes. I guess I’m surprised he smokes when he lights one up and sits back to watch the night sky.
I feel Sebastian’s gaze on me as I wipe my mouth and set my napkin on the table and stand.
“Sit.”
“You were dismissing me a few minutes ago.”
“And now I want you to sit. Or did you want to go chasing after my brother?”
I look at him, confused for a minute, but then I sit. A smile spreads across my face. It’s not a nice smile.
“Are you jealous?” I cock my head to the side, make a point of studying him.
He leans in close, and it takes all I have not to lean away. “Be careful with my brother, Helena. He’s not what you think. In fact, he’s just as wicked as the rest of us.”
He sits back in his seat, picks up the whiskey one of the girls brings him. They must know his habits by heart. He doesn’t even have to lift a finger.
“I have no doubt. But you didn’t answer my question,” I say.
I know I’m playing with fire. This man calculates his every move, and he’s much more adept at this game than I am.
“All right.” He turns to the girls who are clearing. “Leave us.”
Almost before he’s finished saying it, they scatter away like mice, disappearing into the house. My heart falls to my stomach as he rises to his feet and I anticipate his punishment, because he will punish me for this.
“Up.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to give you what you want.”
I glance over at the pool, to where Gregory is leaning back on the lounge chair, smoking his cigarette, blowing a circle of smoke up into the sky.
I shake my head no.
He gives me a smile. His isn’t a nice one either. “Are you scared when I call your bluff, Willow Girl?”
I push my chair back, and the feet screech against the tiles.
Sebastian holds out his hand. His eyes give nothing away. I reach out to place my hand in his, and he walks me to the pool. I’m barefoot because I’d slipped my sandals off under the table. The grass between the tiled areas feels cool and soft beneath my feet.
