dane
My mom was dead.
Murdered by Declan.
My wife’s half-brother.
I didn’t know how to feel.
Lost. Sad. Angry. Torn.
I sat on the back porch of her house in Summervale, overlooking the beach. My feet were buried deep in the sand. I felt like wandering into the ocean and letting it sweep me away.
But I couldn’t do that to Darcie. And my unborn child.
Oh god. I would be a father, and my mom would be a grandmother. And she wasn’t here to hear the news.
I buried my hands in my hands as sobs shook my entire body.
I heard footsteps, and then warm hands were on my back and shoulders, and my arms were tugging me into an embrace. I smelled the familiar scent of a cologne I hadn’t smelt in a long time. I turned, gasped, and looked into the face of my father.
“Dad?”
“Dane. My boy. It’s okay, son. I’m here.”
I hadn’t seen my father physically for almost two years. My parents divorced when my father’s work took him away from us. He had since remarried and moved to Boston.
I let him hold me, just like he used to when my brother and I were little and had fallen off our bikes or had lost our football games.
Then, I heard the familiar higher-octave voice of my younger brother. He had since left school and was in college in California, hoping to become a musician.
“Jake is here too?” I asked, surprised to see my younger brother back in tow and in the house where we’d grown up.
“Of course. Darcie called us. We’re here to help with the arrangements and the… you know, everything.”
I nodded, gave him a small smile, and looked back out to the sea.
It had been a week since my mother was murdered. Sheriff Richards had told me that Declan had cut off her foot and delivered it to this house while Darcie was alone. I felt sick at the thought of it. He had kidnapped my mother and taken her to the bed and breakfast, where she was found in the bathtub.
Two others had also lost their lives during the blackout, murdered by Declan. One we already knew about and had seen was Dr Mendelen, the psychiatrist.
And Tristan’s aunt.
Poor Tristan was absolutely shattered. He’d lost two people who’d been close to him in a brief period of time.
Mom’s funeral was tomorrow.
We could put her to rest, but something was missing.
Someone.
“Where’s Darcie?” I asked.
“I’m not sure, sorry. Last I knew, she was with Stacey and Ashton.”
I stood, patting my dad on the shoulder and walked down the beach toward Stacey’s parents’ house.
When I got there, Stacey’s mom was playing with the kids on the sand, and Ashton was strumming guitar on the back steps leading to the sand.
“Hey, Daneo,” he greeted me with a grin and a wave. Stacey’s mom waved as well.
“Hey, where are the girls?”
“Upstairs. Girl chat. They kicked me out. I don’t think you’d be allowed either, dude.”
“It’s okay. I need to talk to Darcie.”
Ashton sighed. He knew the predicament we were in. He knew the conflict. There was an elephant in the room that had to be addressed. I went up the stairs to find Darcie and Stacey lying on her old childhood bed, staring at the ceiling.
As I approached the door, I heard a bit of their conversation.
“I’m afraid, Stace. What if he hates me? It’s my fault.”
“I’ve told you before. It’s not your fault. It’s his. Declan’s. You didn’t kill Dane’s mom.”
My heart flipped and sank into my stomach. I stood around the corner so they couldn’t see me yet. I contemplated walking away, but the scuff of my sneakers and the squeak of the federation-style old floorboards gave away my presence.
I stepped into view to find both girls staring at me.
“Darce…”
She avoided my gaze. I felt sick. I couldn’t breathe.
“Want me to tell him to leave?” asked Stacey softly.
Darcie sighed and then spoke. “No. It’s okay. We need to talk.”
Stacey kissed her best friend on the forehead and left the room, but not before giving me a warning look as she passed me. I swallowed and walked into the room.
“Darce, I want you to know I’m sorry for running, for not answering your calls or texts. I needed time and space.”
It was then she met my gaze, and I saw she had been crying. I walked to the bed and sat on the edge. I didn’t reach for her. Not yet.
“I thought you hated me,” she said in between sobs.
“Oh, no, darling. I would never hate you.”
“But my brother killed her. It’s my fault he’s here. My fault she’s dead. As well as Tristan’s aunt and his psychiatrist. They’re all dead because of me. I bet he hates me too.”
I climbed on the bed then, kneeling before her and taking her face in my hands, I brushed her tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. I kissed her on the forehead, her right cheek, and then her left. And then her lips. She tasted like salt, and I loved it.
“I don’t. He doesn’t. It’s not your fault. It’s Declan’s. Solely Declan. It’s not your fault he became who he is now.”
She hid her face in my shirt, then grabbed it and inhaled it. I knew she loved my shirts and my scent. It was one of her favourite scents of all. I held her, and she was content to stay in my arms.
Then, when she pulled away, she wiped her tears, looked into my eyes, and said,
“No. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s our father’s. And I’ll be damned if I let our baby turn into an iota of him.”
“No. Our child won’t be anything like your father or your brother. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because they’ll be raised with love.”