CHAPTER 50
John and Remy were sitting on the inn’s front porch, watching the fireflies blinking in the darkness. Remy smiled wistfully. “When I was a girl, my sisters and brother and I used to love catching fireflies and putting them in mason jars. We tried to use them as lanterns.”
“Did it work?
“Not very well,” she said, “because they were always blinking.”
John chuckled, trying to picture Remy as a girl.
“That’s what we were doing the night Easton died—we were catching fireflies. It was the night before his birthday, and my mom was trying to get ready—making his cake and wrapping his presents—but then Sailor broke her jar and took Piper’s. I remember it all so clearly, as if it happened yesterday.”
“That happens sometimes when something tragic or traumatic happens—we either block it out or we remember it vividly.”
She shook her head. “I think we all remember it with vivid clarity—at least I do—but we’ve never once talked about it.”
John nodded. “Maybe that’s why Birdie has had so much trouble healing. Maybe you should talk about it.”
A firefly landed on Remy’s pants and rested there, blinking. “You’re probably right,” Remy said.
“What happened after that?”
“After Sailor—who must’ve been around eleven at the time—took Piper’s jar, Piper—who had to be about six—took her complaints straight to the boss, who, as I mentioned, was busy in the kitchen.” She paused. “Anyway, Sailor—ever prepared to defend herself—followed Piper inside, and Easton, who must’ve already been in the kitchen, heard Piper’s complaint and immediately found a jar in the refrigerator . . . but it was full of homemade pickles.”
“Oh no,” John said, shaking his head. “I can see where this is going.”
Remy nodded. “By this time, my mom had asked Sailor to call Birdie and me inside, too, so she could remind us that she had a lot to do. We were just getting ready to herd everyone back outside when our dad came home with the ice cream for Easton’s birthday.”
“You do remember it vividly!”
“I do because we never had black raspberry ice cream again.”
“Oh no . . .”
She nodded. “Anyway, Easton, who was still holding the jar of pickles in his arms, asked if he could put them into something else, and as he took off the top and reached in to have one, he asked us if we wanted one . . . and of course, Sailor and Piper both tried to reach into the jar at the same time. That was when it slipped out of his arms. And spilled sticky pickle juice—and pickles—all over the floor.”
John shook his head. “This would be remembered as funny if it hadn’t ended so tragically.”
“True,” Remy said, nodding. “It would be one of those memories that we’d laugh about now.”
“So, I imagine, this is where your mom asked your dad to get you guys out of the house.”
“It is, and he took us up to Nauset Light to go for a hike on the beach, but it was getting dark so my dad told Easton to hold Birdie’s hand. Easton said he didn’t need to, but Birdie told him she’d help him find the best heart stone. . . .”
“Heart stone?” John asked, looking puzzled.
“You know, a smooth stone in the shape of a heart.”
“I’ve never heard that term before.”
Remy nodded. “We loved to look for heart stones, and Easton was especially determined to find one because he wanted to give one to our mom after the mess he’d made.” She watched the fireflies dancing in the darkness and seemed lost in thought. “I’ve never talked about this with anyone,” she said softly, “except Jim, and even with him, that’s as far as I got.”
John nodded and reached for her hand. “I’m glad you’re talking to me,” he said softly, “and if you don’t want to tell me the rest, it’s okay.”
Remy’s eyes glistened. “I do want to tell you the rest, it’s just so . . . hard.”
John put his arm around her and gently kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he whispered, and as he pulled her close, the sound of an old-fashioned phone broke the silence. John pulled his arm away and reached into his pocket. “My phone,” he said apologetically. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Birdie,” he said in surprise.
“She has your cell number?”
“She does—she’s wanted to be able to reach me if something happened . . .” He frowned, wondering if something had happened. He slid the phone on. “Hello?”
Remy listened as he spoke. “Hi, Birdie, what’s wrong? . . . Oh no! Is he okay?” Remy sat up, searching his face, and leaned closer so she could hear what her sister was saying. “It’s David,” John whispered. “The Cialis? I don’t know . . . it’s not likely.... Oh, Birdie, I would meet you in a heartbeat if I was there, but I’m still in Vermont. I will call Josh, though, and have him go right to the hospital.... Josh—Dr. Hart—my new associate . . . Yes, he knows what he’s doing. . . . Of course, she’s right here . . . ?” He handed the phone to Remy.
“Is David okay? . . . Yes, please call us back.... We’ll be there as soon as we can,” she said, nodding. “Yes, we’re praying and we’ll leave right away.... Love you.” Remy handed the phone back to him. “She’s so upset. I told her we’d head right home.”
“Of course,” John said, looking at his watch. “But it’s nine o’clock, and even if we were leaving right this second, we wouldn’t get there until two or three in the morning.”
“I know, but what if David . . .” She couldn’t even say the words.
“You’re right,” he said, standing up. “I’ll call Josh, and then just knock on my door when you’re ready.”
Remy nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. David’s my oldest friend.”