Beach Thriller(105)

I planned this party, a grand fundraiser that would remind the town of the Carmichael status before my heart gave out for good.

But then I learned one final thing … and decided this party would serve as my last farewell. Finis.

I do not deserve forgiveness for what I have done. But I do ask a favor.

Whoever finds my note, please return the enclosed necklace to my granddaughter, along with my deepest apologies.

Yours in death,

Maeve Carmichael





Chapter 69

Anna




I’m so used to watching, lurking, listening … but here I am, trying to be part of life again. After all this time, I get another chance to be connected and authentic, if I can figure out where to start.

I spent years keeping an eye on Holly and my mom. But I always stayed a safe distance away. I braved going to one book talk, but Holly seemed to notice me in the small gathering, and I took off, worried that my dyed hair and hood might not have disguised me well enough.

Life was really rough then. I was practically homeless, floating from one place to the next, living off a small sum my mother transferred to me every month. I squandered most of it on alcohol and drugs. Anything that would dull the pain, help me forget. I wasn’t going to burden Holly with all that. Not when she seemed to have moved on, become so successful. I would only have brought her down. Just like I did my mother …

Carol’s decline was my fault. The stress of everything I put her through caused her to break. We were going to tell my sister everything, but when my mother started failing, I couldn’t make the choice on my own. The longer I waited, the more impossible it seemed. Holly was starting to heal. Who was I to needle that wound?

After countless lonely years on the run, I hit rock bottom. It was pure luck that my junkie buddy carried Narcan. My mother didn’t sacrifice everything just to have her daughter OD on the street. I’d had enough. The blackouts, the bad relationships—if you can call fucking your dealer a relationship … I got cleaned up, got myself to AA, NA, every meeting I could. Eventually I took classes, became a certified nursing assistant. That was the best choice I ever made.

I got a job at the memory care facility where Mom lived. Some days, I know she recognized me. I’d sit with her, stroke her hair, tell her stories like Holly used to do for me when we were young. I was the older sister, but Holly was the storyteller, and her stories soothed me during the ups and downs of childhood. I hoped it did the same for my mom in her last months.

I kept an eye on Holly after Mom died. I knew she was hurting, but she had been for so long. I hoped she would finally move forward, without the burden of my mother’s illness and the constant reminders of the past.

But then Holly moved to Beauport, and I knew the danger she was putting herself in.

I did my best, watching from a distance, making sure she didn’t do anything that would put her in jeopardy. And then the girl arrived … my Jade. When I saw the necklace she carried with her everywhere, all the shops she took it to, trying to get it repaired, I knew. I knew the way only a mother knows. And I had to watch over them both.

Now here I sit, with Holly at Crescent Beach. The waves dance on the shoreline, the seagulls caw in the distance. We’re sitting up, our legs stretched out on beach towels, a cooler between us, just like when we were kids. But we aren’t eating, drinking, or even talking … Neither of us knows where to begin.

I glance at my beautiful sister. So many things have changed. Holly has creases around her eyes, same as I do. My hair is still auburn, but I muted the color with cheap dye from a pharmacy so I wouldn’t stand out. I’m not the skinny, gangly girl of my youth. I’ve filled out in my forties, softer curves covering what was once a bony frame. Middle age seems to suit Holly. She’s poised, even sitting here on a beach blanket. She carries herself with a confidence and wisdom that only time and experience provide.

The sun is strong, tanning my arms. Maybe it will hide the old track marks, but it will never cover my shame. If Holly has noticed them, she’s kind enough not to ask.

What do I tell her? I guess that’s what I hope to figure out today. We’re sitting in a comfortable silence, letting the waves provide the soundtrack to our day.

It’s Holly who speaks first.

“If I remember correctly, the last time we were together on this beach, Conrad invited us for an ice cream.”

I surprise myself, laughing out loud at the memory, at how innocent I’d been that day. It’s a wry laugh, but Holly brightens. She understands that our lives would have been completely different if we had picked another beach or gone at another time. She touches my arm as if she can’t believe that I’m real.

“He did invite us to have an ice cream, didn’t he?” I say. My memory of that day is vague, but so many others are painfully clear. The things I did to myself after I left Beauport. How can I ever be whole?

But each minute I spend with Holly takes me farther from my past: the men I knew, the streets, the bars, the addicts I ran with, the highs I chased. These all slowly evaporate as I embrace my new reality. I’m not that person anymore—sleeping in cars, doing things for a fix that make me feel filthy inside and out: unclean, unworthy, unlovable.

Poor Conrad. He didn’t understand why I couldn’t talk to him—and it’s not because his mother wanted me dead. It’s because he wants so much from me. He’s trying to connect, to process all that’s happened. But how can I give him anything when I’ve already given so much of myself away?