Page 39 of Beyond Oblivion

I let the tension around my eyes melt, and then grinned. “Better?”

“Better,” she confirmed, grabbing Raegan’s hand, too. “All right, let’s go.”Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Chapter Nine

Camille

“You’re messing with us,” Chase said, shaking his head slowly, his blue eyes wide. He took another bite of birthday cake, his lips slightly stained with blue icing.

The three red-headed boys I’d spent my childhood helping my mother corral were now men, all listening intently as our hometown version ofDateline: The Saga of Madisonunfolded.

Sharing our oddball drama in the best-yet-still-mediocre hotel suite Eakins had to offer wasn’t exactly the beach vacation we’d dreamed of. Now that everyone—including Mom—had moved away, we’d been trying to plan a trip to Tybee Island so we could be together for her birthday. When I couldn’t make it work, they decided to descend upon our hometown for the weekend so we could at least all eat cake and ice cream while crammed together under one roof.

I watched their expressions subtly change from disbelief to anger to worry as Trenton detailed the story. They’d each been shaped by their own battles that came with the transition to adulthood. Chase, the eldest, looked at his wife, Shannon. She was also a redhead, and while it made for spicy arguments on a regular basis, she was also the only woman who could keep him in line. While I looked like our father, Chase fully embodied his personality, and Dad, more often than not, chose to be cruel. Shannon had a sixth sense-like instinct, somehow knowing when our father’s influence was about to rear its ugly head. Her calming words or well-timed barbs never failed to strangle Chase’s temper before it fully took hold. Her interventions weren’t always smooth, at times downright explosive, but Shannon never backed down. She loved him fiercely, claws and all. Ironically, her own sharp edges were what kept Chase from becoming the man he despised most.

We’d buried Dad without tears. Some might say he got a better death than he deserved. The first responders called it a ‘widow-maker’ heart attack. He was dead before he hit the floor. Birthdays were enjoyable now, freed from the tension and forced smiles that had once accompanied them. Without having to tiptoe around his moods, special occasions and holidays finally felt like celebrations. Laughter felt lighter, easier—real. It was a relief we rarely dared to say out loud.

Coby, my youngest brother, had found him, TV remote still in hand, a half-empty bottle of scotch by his side. I nudged him with my foot, and he smirked, pushing me back. Coby worried me, especially in the days following Dad’s death—I’d even picked up shifts at The Red to save enough for his next stint in rehab, just in case—but he surprised us all, always being the one to check on Mom and hold us together—even falling in love and then convincing his girlfriend to leave her life in Eakins behind and move with his job when Mom decided to sell the house. He was a plane ride away from all of us, but he’d racked up the most miles to Ohio to visit Mom. He reminded me a lot of Trenton in that way, caring for the parent left behind.

His narrow green eyes danced from me to my husband, and then to his girlfriend, Holly.

“Don’t look at me. I went to school with her. She’s always been a little off,” Holly said.

“Raegan still has perfect timing,” Clark added. His birth was sandwiched between Chase and Coby, and he was every bit the middle child—the peace maker, the showoff, and lately, all about silver linings. His wife Anna was the daughter of the praise and worship leader at a local church, and she’d led him to all things Jesus. I expected Clark to call home warning us about Hell and speaking in scripture, but it just made him… happy. He was lighter, insurmountably more hopeful, and invited us to church the handful of times a year he’d visit.

No pressure, but it’s gonna be a good one, he’d say with a smile.

Sometimes, I went, but more often than not, I didn’t wait to be invited.

Anna rubbed her round belly and shifted on the sofa, trying to get comfortable. Her almond-shaped blue eyes, bronze skin, and hair that fell in long, dark waves made their upcoming infant’s appearance anyone’s guess. Clark was nearly a foot taller than her. They could have a fun-sized, tan ginger with green eyes, a freckled, Amazonian dark-haired child, or anything in between. But no one was more excited to find out than Clark.

I looked to Trenton, fantasizing for the two millionth time what our child might look like, but then pushed that thought aside when my mother brushed her knuckles against her nose, which she always did before she spoke. It was residual from when she was married to her aggressive, loud, overbearing husband, and every time it made me remember how grateful I was for cholesterol.

My mother, with her now salt and pepper hair pulled into a low bun, pushed up her glasses and frowned. “A restraining order is about as good as the paper it’s written on. What else do you plan to do?” She was looking at Trenton, not me.

My husband shrugged. “I mean, she’s still young, practically still a kid. A weird one, but just a kid. I’ve spoken to her parents, and she’s in a psychiatric clinic, hospital or whatever in Grand Rapids. I’m just glad she’s getting help. It’s not her fault.”

I smiled at Trenton and rubbed his arm. Coby wasn’t as happy with his answer.

“And when she gets out?” he pressed. “The things she’s already pulled, trying to break you two up, making a scene—who knows what she’ll do next. Didn’t her dad say there was something… weird in her room? Like an altar or something?”

Trenton chuckled. “No, he definitely didn’t say that. He didn’t say what it was, just that whatever was in her room was concerning. It could’ve been a diary, for all we know.”

“My money’s on a Trenton Shrine,” Coby teased. “All hail Trenton, god of whiskey and wet dreams.”

Holly tried to suppress a grin and nudged his ribs with her elbow.

“Still,” Coby muttered, unconvinced.

Trenton’s cell phone chirped, and he looked down. “Huh,” he said. “Tommy and Liis flew in.” He looked up at me. “Did you know they were coming?”

I shrugged. “No.”

“They’re asking us to meet them at the house.”

“Our house?” I asked. “Not your dad’s?”

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