“That’s really noble of him,” I said, filling the lull between us.

Gerard dropped his stick for a blade of beach grass. “Yep. He’s a pretty noble guy. Anyway”—the grass went in his mouth and he chewed while he talked—“then Candice comes along. We were just kids, but I remember thinking that she was really something. Always nice, always polite, always smiling. But it turns out her husband was big into drugs, gambling, and abuse, and she was barely holding herself together. Papa B meets her, figures it out, and tries to give her an exit. I guess it took awhile, but she finally went to him for help. He let her stay up at the lake house.”

I remembered the dreamlike days with Mom, Puppa, and Jellybean. The memories held a sweet aroma, like a field of wildflowers or a just-opened bar of chocolate.

Gerard shook his head. “Then, big surprise, Papa B falls in love with her. She’s still married and refusing to get a divorce because it’s against her religion or something. Next thing you know, her husband dies in that house fire. She blames it all on Papa B, of course. Motive, opportunity. You name it, he had it. And she never let him forget that.”

“But Candice must have known her husband was running with a bad crowd.”

Gerard flicked the grass onto the pebbly sand. “She knew. It’s called denial. She’s one of those people that figure if you don’t look at it, it’ll go away.”

I slid off my rock and onto the beach. Tiny shells filled the spaces between stones. I picked at them.

No wonder Candice was so appalled with Missy’s situation. Candice had once been in the exact same place and hadn’t been able to save herself.

I plucked my favorite shells out of the sand and set them on my white rock. One swirled upward like a mouse-sized butter pecan ice-cream cone. “So what happened with Sid? He was your grandfather, wasn’t he? How did he end up in the fire with Candice’s husband?”

Gerard squinted in the sunshine. The soft crinkles around his eyes made me think of Brad.

“That’s where things get complicated,” Gerard said. “Here’s Sid, the brother of a state trooper, and he’s up to his neck in marijuana plants. The locals always figured your grandfather was covering for Sid. Anytime Papa B bought anything new or put up the white fencing or the big barn, people assumed Sid had paid him to keep his mouth shut. But far as I know, Papa B is clean.” He ran a hand through short black hair. “The story goes that Paul and Sid ran up some gambling debts and pledged their harvest of Silvan Green to pay the bill.” He looked at me to see if I was following. “Silvan Green is what they call marijuana grown around here.”

“So I gathered,” I said.

He continued. “But the bigwigs in the drug trade were counting on that harvest. Next thing you know, Paul and Sid are undergoing a joint cremation.” His voice turned husky at the last words.

“I’m so sorry.” The sun glinted on the water. The glaring light caused me to squint. “So my mom had something to do with turning them in?”

He gave a flip of his hand. “Olivia just needs someone to blame. If Beth did call the cops on Paul and Grandpa Sid, she was doing everyone a favor. Port Silvan is a remote community. We don’t have a police force out here keeping tabs on the riffraff. It’s up to us to care enough about our town to police it ourselves. The drug trade can get pretty messy.”

I gave a half snort. “You should know. What were you doing that day on the bluff? Exchanging baseball cards with that guy?”

“That was no guy. Hey, I’m onto something big. But you’ve got to keep your mouth shut about what you saw. Let me do my job.”

“Your job?”

His voice became irate. “Just forget what you saw. Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.”

“Fine. Whatever. I just don’t like the thought of being part of some mafia family. I kind of like you guys. I don’t want to have to quit hanging around you.”

“We’re not mafia, okay? Just drop it.”

“Touchy, touchy.” We watched the waves roll in. Their rolling rhythm filled the silence. “So that’s the story of Great-Uncle Sid,” I said after a while. “What about your dad and mom? What’s their story?”

Gerard kept his gaze on the water. “Dad died driving drunk when I was twelve. Mom took off with the milkman.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, feeling sorry for him.

“No, actually it was the plumber.”

I couldn’t help but grin at his hopeless sense of humor. “So who raised you and Joel?”

“Papa B.”

I nodded. “I guess that explains why you call him Papa B.”

Gerard cracked a smile. “I guess.”

I kicked back and put my hands behind my head. I lay prone and closed my eyes. With the sun beating down on me, I could almost feel the cells converting the rays to vitamin D. Gerard and I didn’t talk for a while. I might have nodded off if it hadn’t been for the cacophony of gulls.

“Gerard.” Grandfather’s voice sounded like a bare whisper in the wind.

I sat up to look. Gerard craned around next to me. My grandfather came toward us, picking his way through beach grass and rocks.

“We have to go,” he said, panting. “Olivia’s having another bout.”

My cousin stood and stretched.

“So what happened with Candice?” I asked my grandfather.

The way his lips thinned into a long, straight line told me the meeting hadn’t gone well.

“Gerard. Let’s go,” was all he said.

They left me. I faced the water and crossed my ankles in the sand. The breeze blew wisps of hair across my face. The gulls swooped and dove for some tasty morsels that lay just beneath the surface. The view was so peaceful. I wondered how anyone who lived in such beautiful surroundings could be driven to burn down a garden shed, or send a home up in flames. But I already knew the answer. Only hurting, desperate people did those kinds of things. I should know. I’d been there.

I watched the waves a few more minutes, then I went inside to call Brad.

19

I dialed the phone, feeling like an errant schoolgirl about to get yelled at by the principal.

“Hello?” Brad’s voice came at the other end of the line.

“It’s me. Tish.”

“Are you okay? What’s going on up there?”

“I’m fine.” I sighed and rested my forehead against a kitchen cabinet. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier, I’ve been a little distracted.”

“I can imagine.”

“You can?” My shoulders relaxed. “Thanks for being so understanding. Officer Segerstrom said you were pretty worried.”

“I want to be there for you, but I’m stuck down here. I hate that.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat and dragged my emotions away from the abyss of self-pity. I put on a smile. “Well, you’re here for me now. Thanks for caring.”

I looked out the kitchen window at the smoking debris as I told him the details of the afternoon, leaving out the fireman’s assessment that the arson was meant to be a warning.

Brad listened in silence. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d witnessed a drug deal and that some dealer’s wife had come to you for help?”

My heart skipped a beat. He’d been talking to Officer Segerstrom. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I am worried. I thought we were closer than that. I thought you could confide in me. What else haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing. That’s it. That’s all there is and it’s nothing, really.”

“A guy tries to run you over with his four-wheeler and that’s nothing?”

“Don’t try making me feel worse than I already do. We live a long way apart now. There’s just some stuff that’s not worth bringing up.”

“Not worth it, huh? Why do you think that?”

“Listen to you. You’re all worked up over this. That’s why I don’t mention it.”

“I might not be so worked up if you would have told me about it back in February.”

“You know, I’m doing my best.” The decibels rose. “This long-distance relationship stuff—no, this relationship stuff—doesn’t come naturally. I’ve never been very good at it. It’s not as if I’ve had much practice, you know. Look how I botched things up last time around.” My chin launched into a perpetual quiver at the memory of my ill-fated romance with David Ramsey.

“Come on, Tish.” Brad’s voice softened. “Don’t cry. You’re doing great. Things aren’t going to be like this forever. Hang in there.”

“Yeah? Well, when do you think things are going to change? I look ahead and all I see is year after year of you in Rawlings and me in Port Silvan—or wherever—and the only thing between us is a phone line.”

“It’s just for now. It’s just for today. It won’t always be like this.”

“How can you say that? What’s ever going to change? I don’t think I can take this much longer. I miss you. I need you. I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t see you.”

“Tish.”

“Yeah?”

“Take a deep breath.”

I breathed.

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way. But it sounds like you’re having a panic attack. It’s pretty scary what those guys did to your shed. But don’t give in to the fear.”

I nodded. “’Kay.”

“This is just a suggestion, but I think you need to get some more friends. You need to get out of the house. Get involved in a Bible study. Join an art class. Something.”

I nodded, silent.

“Tish? Are you there?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Listen, I’ll see you soon enough, the trials are almost over. But in the meantime, call the pastor and ask how you could get involved in the church.”

I sniffled.

“Will you do that?” Brad asked.

My jaw jiggled back and forth defiantly. “I feel like you’re avoiding the issue. I haven’t seen you for two months and you want to blame my feelings on a panic attack. Can’t you understand that maybe I just miss you?”