AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It’d been two days since they’d taken Beau and Cal out onto the creek and harvested wild oysters. Mackey had fought off sleep for hours after the oyster roast had ended and Beau and Cal had gone home. First, he’d helped Royal put out the fire in the backyard, gathered up the discarded oyster shells, and loaded them in the back of Royal’s truck. Then he’d hopped in the passenger seat, accompanied Royal to the shell recycling center drop-off, and unloaded the shells.
Kit grinned. She’d been half surprised Royal’s rusty truck had started, let alone carried him and Mackey the three miles to the recycling center and back, but it’d made the round trip. When they’d returned, Mackey had followed Kit around the house as she’d cleaned each room, sorting through years of accumulated odds and ends. Over and over, he had had the same questions on his lips: “When can Cal come over again? And Beau? When can I go to Cal’s?”
But she hadn’t minded. Mackey’s smile and renewed spirits had been a reward all their own. The oyster roast had lifted not only Mackey’s spirits but Royal’s, as well. Rather than retiring to his room for the night later that evening, Royal had ventured out onto the front porch, sat in one of the wicker chairs, lit a cigar, and enjoyed a leisurely smoke under the stars. When Kit had joined him, and Mackey had followed, Royal hadn’t said a word. He’d simply turned his head, a slight smile on his bearded face, and leaned back in his chair to look up at the night sky.
It’d been the first time since Kit’s return that the three of them had relaxed together in companionable silence. Mackey, rarely silent, had seemed to ponder Sylvie’s absence a lot that night. He’d sat on the porch steps and stared at the front door of the house, as though he’d expected Sylvie to appear at any moment, and the longer the night had wore on, the more he’d sagged against the porch rail, his attention shifting up to the stars, as well.
Now Kit covered Mackey’s hands with her own, stilling his nervous movements, then wove her fingers through his and squeezed. “Dad’s rule for this room doesn’t matter now, because Mama’s not here anymore, is she?”
His eyes widened, and his gaze darted over the ceiling, wall, and floor before meeting hers. He shook his head.
“Where is she, Mackey?” Kit asked gently.
Chin trembling, he pointed toward the ceiling. “Up there. In heaven, where we can’t see her. But she can see us, can’t she?” His eyes widened even more, and his mouth gaped open. “What if she sees us go in? What if she gets mad?”
“She won’t be mad.”
“But how do you know?”
“Because Mama wouldn’t mind us going in there now, Mackey. She used to love this room. She loved the view.”
Kit faced the door again and rubbed her sweaty palm on her jean-clad leg. There was no other choice, no other excuse. She and Mackey had already mowed and manicured the front and back lawns, and she’d thoroughly cleaned every room in Teague Cottage from top to bottom. This room was the only one left that she hadn’t overhauled, and walking past it each day only dredged up painful memories.
“She would’ve wanted us to use this room,” Kit said. “You and Dad especially.”
Mackey didn’t look convinced. “How come?”
“I’ll show you.” Holding her breath, Kit gripped the doorknob and turned it, then swept the door open and led the way inside.
The room looked almost exactly as it had over fifteen years ago, when Kit had last stepped inside it. The double bed took center stage on the far wall, and the thin cotton sheets, imprinted with jessamine flowers, were rumpled and dangling off one side of the mattress. Empty beer bottles, pill containers, and wadded-up cigarette packs littered the dresser, above which hung a cracked mirror. And on the right side of the room, soft morning light from an overcast sky streamed in, casting a grayish haze throughout.
Kit blew out a slow breath, then led Mackey by the hand across the room, carefully stepping over the clothes and shoes strewn across the scuffed hardwood floor, and stopped in front of the window.
“There,” she said. “What do you see?”
Mackey smiled. “The creek.” He tugged his hand free from Kit’s, placed both palms flat against the window, and pressed his nose to the cloudy glass. “That’s where the oysters are. Can you see ’em out there?”
Kit’s gaze traveled over the ash-laden firepit in the backyard, the low curving branches of live oaks, and the long wooden dock toward the water rippling in the distance. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned, the gray clouds melting into the creek below.
She pressed her forehead to the glass beside Mackey’s hand. “No. You can’t see them from here, but they’re out there.”
“What’s out there?”
Kit spun around. Viv stood in the center of the bedroom, staring at them as they stood in front of the window. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and the jeans and T-shirt she wore were baggy, accentuating her thin frame. She looked as though she hadn’t slept much lately.
“Viv!” Mackey left the window, jogged across the room, and hurled himself into Viv’s arms.
Viv smiled as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Hey, bud.” She hugged him closer. “Have you been taking good care of the place while I’ve been gone?”
Mackey smiled up at her and nodded. “I washed the dishes and cooked dog cheese and”—he glanced over his shoulder at Kit—“me and Kit cut the grass and went on the creek and got oysters with Cal and Beau.”
“I saw a new mailbox out front,” Viv said, meeting Kit’s eyes over the top of his head. “Courtesy of Beau?”
Kit nodded slowly. “He installed it a little over a week ago, when he stopped by to pay his condolences.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Viv how Beau was doing. Kit hadn’t seen or heard from him since the oyster roast, save for a glimpse of him behind the wheel of a truck emblazoned withPEARL TIDE OYSTER COMPANYearly yesterday afternoon. The bed of the truck had been packed to the brim with coolers, and the vehicle had slowed as it passed Teague Cottage. Beau, catching her eye as she swept the front porch with Mackey, had smiled and lifted his hand in a wave. For a moment, the truck had stopped, as though he might turn into the driveway of the cottage. Instead, Beau had lowered his hand, the engine had rumbled, and the truck had rolled on.
“I thought Dad had closed this off.” Viv hugged Mackey once more, then released him, frowning as she glanced around the room.
