Page 45 of 15 Summers Later

She came right over and hugged her father, testament to their strong bond. “Hey, Dad.”

Luke returned the hug. “Hey, Si. How were the puppies?”

“So cute! I could have played with them all day.”

“Sorry you had to break away for a birthday party in your honor.”

“Except my birthday’s not until Saturday. Almost a week away.”

Before Luke could answer, Madi came out of the house with Tilly, both of them carrying platters of vegetables and fruit.

Her sister looked bright and cheerful and...happy.

Ava caught her breath, yearning for the days when the two of them had been inseparable, before her guilt and shame at her own cowardice, at her own failure to protect her sister, had created a wedge between them that the years had only widened.

And then she had written a memoir that exposed all of the raw pain and dark memories for the entire world.

Yes, she had a multitude of reasons for agreeing to the publishing deal, but she doubted Madi could ever understand any of them.

Her stomach heaved suddenly, her throat burning. She was going to lose the little she had eaten that day right here in this lovely garden, all over Dr. Luke Gentry and his daughter.

“Excuse me, won’t you?”

She rushed into the house, hurrying to the half bath off the mudroom she remembered from Tilly’s wedding. After quickly turning on both faucets to hide any sound, she threw up, feeling wretched and sick and wondering how her life could have completely imploded in a few short weeks.

13

Our father’s demise, a tragic consequence of our rescue, adds another layer of complexity to my tangled web of emotions. In saving us, we lost him. The dichotomy of relief and grief is a bitter pill to swallow. I grapple with the notion that the man who inflicted so much pain upon us met his end in the chaos he created. It’s a paradox that leaves me questioning the nature of justice and the price we pay for deliverance.

—Ghost Lakeby Ava Howell Brooks

Madison

Okay. That was weird.

A few seconds earlier, Ava had hurried past her without a word. She looked through the glass sliding door to see Ava rushing into the half bath off the mudroom.

Madi only had time for a fleeting impression of pinched features and pale skin before the door closed behind Ava.

Her sister seemed genuinely ill. The first time Madi had seen her since she came to town, Ava had seemed more than simply uncomfortable about finding herself in Madi’s presence.

Once, in that miserable time they spent in the mountains, Ava had come down with a severe pneumonia, probably from the grim cold and rough conditions. She had hidden it from everyone as best she could, her face turning red in the effort it took her not to cough, until it became impossible to hide.

After her condition continued to worsen, their father—in a rare show of parental concern—had insisted on using some of the Coalition’s carefully hoarded supply of antibiotics. They had likely saved her life.

During their escape, Madi remembered, Ava had sprained her wrist falling down a slope in the dark. Madi hadn’t known until she was recovering in the hospital and her sister had shown up wearing a sling. She must have been in incredible pain, but she had never said a thing.

What was wrong with her now that left her so pale and shaky?

She didn’t care, she told herself. She knew her own words for a lie, especially when she couldn’t resist making her way over to Luke, now helping his stepfather, Boyd, and brother, Owen, at the grill.

“Hey,” he said with a smile that suddenly left her feeling wobbly inside. “Thanks for bringing Sierra.”

“Sorry we took so long. She was a great help to me today.”

“I’m glad.”

“I saw you were talking to Ava when we arrived,” she said, striving for a casual tone. “What happened that made her rush off like that?”

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