The Bar Harbor Retirement Home for Famous Writers_And Their Muses by Terri-Lynne Defino

Author:Terri-Lynne Defino
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-06-12T00:00:00+00:00

Climbing the dunes to the arbor, they walked side by side. His backpack bumped her shoulder each time he stepped with his right foot, until she synced her pace to his. Rhythm again. A pulse set to the music of the sea. A man and a woman, both broken and somewhat repaired. Stepping left foot, right, left, right. Swaying like sea grass buffeted gently by the wind.

“Oh, your book.” Setting the backpack on the chair Olivia had been sitting on, Fin pulled it from within. “Sorry. Looks like it got a little wet.”

Cecibel brushed the droplets of water from the cover. Condensation from the beer, or maybe the sea. The pattern of drops long sitting and swirls just made with the side of her hand looked a little like pussy-willow branches swaying in the wind. With any luck, no one would notice. If anyone did, Olivia would take the blame.

“G’night, Bel.” Fin squeezed her shoulder. “If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you Friday night. Meet me in the lower lot?”

Of course he didn’t offer to pick her up. He knew better, and how she loved him for it. A good friend, Finlay. Why in the world had it taken her so long to discover such a thing? The answer nudged her from behind but she ignored it. Not now. Just, not now.

“Sounds perfect. Seven thirty?”

“Make it seven. We want good seats. Line might be long, considering it’s the last week.”

“Seven, then. See you, Fin.”

He went one way, she the other. Another balmy July night stuck to her body, her clothes. Sand coated her feet and toes even after rubbing them in the scrubby grass. Salt tightened the skin of her face and bound the individual strands of her hair into clumps like thin dreadlocks easily brushed smooth. If she closed her eyes, it could be another July night, Cecibel walking sticky by the sea. She was seventeen. Portland, Maine, not Bar Harbor. Her face was whole and beautiful. Her hair even longer, even thicker. Her body was new and ripe, untouched but ready. She was meeting Dennis on the beach. A bonfire, just the two of them. First love. First time. It was supposed to have been the best night of her life.

“Jen.” She choked on her sister’s name. Of course she’d been at the same beach. Wasn’t it where everyone hung out? There, where police and parents gave a little leeway to the amorous and intoxicated? No bonfire. No lovemaking. Sirens and an ambulance. Police and questions she couldn’t answer.

What did she take?

How much?

How long ago?

When did she lose consciousness?

All the friends who could have answered such questions had long since fled by then. No one wanted to be associated with such a thing, not even for a girl universally loved. Pitied. They all knew what she’d been through, knew her pain. They’d been standing over her, panicking when Cecibel happened upon them. Stand her up. Get her breathing. Call 911. They did, and they’d fled, leaving

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