Page 111 of Don't Look Back

“But you always loved my games.”

“I wasthree.”

“Closer to four.”

“I’ll take your word for that. It’s a confusing jumble in my mind.”

“You were a brat who insisted on hogging all Mama’s attention.”

She shrugged. “Sorry?”

He pressed a hand to his heart. “At last, the apology I’ve waited for since you stole our mother from me.”

And there it was, the crux of the hate that emanated from him. Beneath the hostility was so much pain. “I have a feeling, Reuben, that the blame there lies in our biological father. I’m certain she never would have left you if not for him.”

“Your so-called father, more like it.”

She couldn’t actually argue that, much as she wanted to. She remembered their mom kissing her dad in the villa. How long had the affair lasted before she left?

“No doubt he played a role, but she wouldn’t have leftyouif she had a choice.” Perhaps someday she’d tell Reuben about all the empty cradles in their mother’s paintings. Her underlying sadness that she’d claimed was due to not having more children.

She figured Reuben wasn’t ready to hear that yet.

“She did have a choice.” His eyes, a hazel so like her own, bore into her. “I remember that day, you know.”

His hostility was tangible. She felt it like a physical manifestation—a gas that expanded to fill the space allotted. The room choked with it, and she found it hard to breathe.

But she needed to hear this as much as he needed to say it. “Tell me.”

“The day you and Mama died, it was unbearably hot. But that’s Malta in summer. Mama took us out on a boat to catch the breeze. The cook packed us a lunch with my favorite foods. We had sodas and ice cream packed in bricks of ice.”

Much as she wanted to hear this—it might spark her own memories—she also wanted to dive across the gap between benches and cover his mouth with her hand. To stop the horror from being said aloud.

She wanted to continue to love her mother. Love her father.

There was a lot to fear in Reuben’s account of what could only be described as one of the worst days of his life.

“Mom chose a Luzzu without a motor. A blue-and-yellow one. Traditional. She insisted on paddling. Just the three of us. I should have known she was planning something. She hadn’t gone out in a boat with me since…” He made a pained sound, then continued, “Not since you were born. I should have guessed, but I was so happy. To be included. To go out on the water with Mama. She said she wanted a fun day with her babies. I took umbrage at that, naturally. I was nine. But Mama wanted to spend time with both of us, so I didn’t complain. She’d been ill and wouldn’t let me see her for days and days. But now she wantedmyattention again.”

Kira steeled herself for what was to come. Reuben had been a sweet boy. She believed that, even though there was no sweetness left in him. He was all hard edges and anger now.

She thought of Rand, a Navy SEAL. A warrior, trained to kill and who had done so unflinchingly. Last week was just the most recent and the only one she knew about for certain, but he’d admitted as much. Still, there was a kindness and humanity in him that she couldn’t see in her brother.

She had little doubt the events of that long ago August day had shaped the man Reuben had become. The trauma combined with the fact that his mother was no longer a tempering influence. He had only Luka as parent after that day.

“We’d been out for some time. At least, it felt that way to me. We were deep in the harbor, near the mouth of the sea. None of us were wearing life jackets. I remember being so pleased she didn’t make me put one on. It was a first. I begged to have my ice cream before my pastizzi, and Mama agreed when I pointed out it would melt while the pastries would not. I felt so clever.”

His mouth tightened, and she knew he was back on the boat. Not seeing Kira or the art that surrounded him. He was in the harbor, near the mouth of the sea, on a scorching hot August day.

“You opened the cooler to get the ice cream and…I’ve gone over this part in my head thousands of times, trying to figure out if my first thought was true. But now, with you here, I’m certain. Mama pushed you from the boat.”

Kira swallowed. She didn’t remember—it remained a black hole in her mind—but it made sense. Her one remnant of that day was a fear of deep water and swimming, which her dad helped her overcome.

At the same time, her mom had never, not once in Kira’s memory, gone near water or climbed aboard a boat.

“Mama shouted. She was so upset. Then she leapt from the boat after you. Dove down. I watched the water in shock and horror, and she didn’t… She never came up. So I dove in after. To find my mama. Find my sister.”

A tear slipped down Kira’s cheek. Her brain unleashed a mantra of nos that would not stop what was coming.

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