That I love her. So, so, so much. That everybody loves her. That everything will be okay. That’s we’ll always be here for each other.
Finally, Evie runs out of tears, and she pulls away from me to wipe at her face. Then she kisses me on the cheek before she tiptoes back toward her own front door. She gives me a sad little wave, and I see her mouth the words I’m sorry, Grey before she vanishes inside.
I feel like I’m in some kind of a daze. I slip into the Mystic Rose and ease the door closed behind me. Then I wander into the kitchen for a drink. Sweet-N-Low whines at me for turning on the light, but I ignore him. I’m staring at that photo again. The one of me and my mom.
I lift the frame off the wall. It’s been there so long that the wallpaper underneath is brighter than the rest of the kitchen. It’s like a time warp. The little apples are still red instead of faded pink.
I fold back the metal clips that secure the cardboard backing, then I pull out the photograph. The Scotch tape holding it in place is old enough that I barely have to tug on it. I rehang the dusty frame and carry the photo into my bathroom. I turn on the light and lean in toward the mirror. Then I hold the picture up next to my own face.
The woman’s haunted eyes don’t match the innocent eyes of the little girl in the picture.
But they do match the eyes of the older girl in the mirror.
My mother and I have finally become twins, after all.
I take the photograph to bed with me and lean it up against the framed picture of me and Elora on my bedside table. Then I stare at it for a long time before I flip off the lamp and somehow drift off to sleep listening to Evie’s wind chimes.
It’s hours later when something wakes me up. I sit up in the dark, and for a second, I’m not sure why I’m awake. Then I hear it again. A tapping sound. Barely loud enough to register.
I turn my head toward the window and almost jump out of my skin when I see the shape on the other side of the glass. But then I hear the whisper, and my fear is replaced by a strange sense of déjà vu.
“Greycie,” Hart pleads. “Let me in. Please.”
For the second time in seventeen summers, I slide open my bedroom window and let Hart come inside. He climbs right over the top of Wrynn’s little collection to stand staring at me in the moonlight. Dark curls. Strong back. Broad shoulders.
Hollow eyes.
A month’s worth of stubble.
He starts to tremble. “I’m sorry,” he says over and over. “I’m so sorry, Greycie. I’m so sorry. Oh, God. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I take him by the hand and lead him to my bed. I spread back the blankets, then I slip off his boots and pull him under the covers with me. I wrap my arms tight around him. Like that night when we were five.
But he won’t stop shaking.
“It’s okay,” I whisper again and again. But we both know nothing’s okay.
“The hurricane made landfall.” He spits the words out through chattering teeth. “Elizabeth. In Florida. Eighty-mile- an-hour winds. Two people dead so far.”
“Shhhh,” I soothe, and I run my fingers through his beautiful hair.
“Falling trees,” he tells me.
I press my lips against this forehead. His skin is ice cold. Like a corpse.
“Hart –”
“I just wanna know, Greycie. I need to know what happened. I miss ’er so bad.”
The tinkling of wind chimes grows louder and louder until it seems to fill my little bedroom with its fragile sound.
“Me too,” I whisper.
And I know for sure then that what I told Evie was true. Hart isn’t in love with me. Not like Evie meant. Need isn’t love. Loneliness isn’t love. And pain isn’t love. Even if it’s shared.
Hart notices the picture on my bedside table. The one of me and my mom. He reaches over to pick it up. There’s just enough moonlight to see the young woman and the little girl on her lap.
He studies the photograph with dark eyes.
“Can you do it, too?” he finally asks me. His voice is low in my ear. Hushed. Like we’re whispering shared secrets. Only I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Can I do what?”
“Leo told me that your mama could start fires. With her mind. He said he’d seen her do it. Once. A long time ago.” Hart’s stopped shaking. Finally. “Can you do it, too?”
I freeze. Cold under the covers.
“Because if you can, Greycie, you should burn this whole fucking town right down to the mud.”
Hart is gone by the time I wake up. I sit up and swing my feet to the floor, but I don’t get out of bed. Instead, I take the picture off my bedside table and hold it to the light streaming in the window. Hart didn’t have any details about what he said my mother could do. The power that she had. Just a vague story Leo told him once when they were out fishing.