Page 8 of Until We Break

How many years had it been since I heard from him? I left Marshoak seven years ago at the end of the summer and I hadn’t been back. I never understood what happened between Mom and Uncle Walt. It was a topic I couldn’t even bring up. Because going back to Marshoak meant Caleb. I found a weird and guilty comfort in knowing Mom wasn’t going to force it as long as she and Uncle Walt weren’t speaking.

I finally broke the seal and slid the papers out of the envelope.

There was a cover page with the Dean’s law office information followed by a letter. I read it out loud in the quiet apartment.

Dear Ms. Delaney,

I’m sorry to inform you that your uncle, Walt Shepherd is deceased. As his only living relative, Mr. Shepherd named you as his sole heir and thus the transfer of his estate goes to you in full trust. Please prepare to meet in Marshoak Island, North Carolina to settle the estate. You can reach me at the following number.

Sincerely,

Dean Waters

Uncle Walt had died? I sat on the floor taking big slow breaths. I re-read the letter, looking for more details, but Dean had written it as if I were a stranger to him. Maybe he had forgotten who I was. Was that possible?

My hands hadn’t stopped shaking. Walt was my last living relative. I had no idea he had died. Did that make me a terrible person or just a terrible niece?

I was learning my parents had kept things from me to protect me, never expecting me to have to face them on my own when they were gone. Uncle Walt’s passing was one of those things they hadn’t prepared me for.

I thought about Colleen’s harsh advice. I also knew I only had another day or two in this apartment before the new tenants moved in. I needed somewhere to go.

I didn’t know what I was going to do next, but somewhere inside me, I knew whatever it was it was going back to Marshoak Island.

FOUR

Caleb

“Watch out!”

“Caleb, move!”

The flames roared as high as my head. I stared into the blaze, as it flickered and licked the driftwood we had propped up like a pyramid.

I felt the violent impact as I was hurled from the fire and into the sand with a thud that trembled through my muscles. My beer flew out of my hand and into the surf. I didn’t see it disappear when the sea folded it into a wave.

“What the fuck, man?” I flipped over and stared at Gabe from the ground. The logs crashed over the perimeter of rocks.

“You didn’t see that five-foot log about to land on your shoulder? Where’s your head lately?” he barked.

I didn’t answer.

“It was one mistake, man. When are you going to let it go?”

My jaw stiffened. The answer was never.

“Fine. But you should let it go,” he said. Gabe shook his head and walked off like I was a lost cause.

Two other guys used a shovel and rake to prop the driftwood back into the center of the circle. Neither said a word to me. I sat, brushing the sand from my arms and legs. I didn’t want to know how much was sifted into my dark head of hair.

I sat forward. The new ring of flames moved together, giving off the illusion there was a wall you couldn’t pass through. There was something eerie about the darkness on the beach at night. If you stepped outside the light the fire cast, it was like being swallowed by total darkness. I was in that patch of darkness thanks to Gabe.

I shoved off the ground. Every muscle in my 6’5” frame ached, but it wasn’t from being tackled. The surf had been rough today. The boat had taken a pounding and so had my body. I headed to the cooler. I waited for more people to move on before I grabbed the first beer under the lid.

I took a swig. Damn it. It was warm. I should have grabbed one from the bottom of the cooler. I thought better of draining it into the sand, suffering through the tepid sips.

I didn’t notice the brunette who had sashayed up to me until her long fingers trailed against my forearm.

“Hey,” she whispered.

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