Page 20 of Light of Day
Her heart racing, Heather turned back to face her mother. Sally’s faded red flannel pajamas hung on her thin frame, and her blond hair straggled from her scrunchie. Her eyes looked tired, just as bloodshot as her coffee shop promised. “What did she find out? Do you know?”
“No.” Sally pressed her lips together. “She said she was still confirming details, and didn’t want to upset anyone for nothing. She asked about some family history.”
“Okay, like what?”
Chills were running up and down Heather’s arms; a sure sign she was on to something here.
“Like what my great-grandfather Hennessy did for a living, that sort of thing.”
Heather pressed her hands to her cheeks. What kind of sense did that make? Why would Gabby care about something from so many generations ago? “What did he do for a living?”
“Well, if you can believe it, he was a doctor. See? You’re not the only one with education in this family. We went downhill after that.” She snorted.
A doctor. Had she known that? Granted, her interest in her family history was pretty minimal. If she’d heard that information, she hadn’t retained it. “What kind of doctor?”
“I don’t know, just the general kind. He was the only one on the island back then. At least, that’s the way it got passed down to me. Your grandfather Hector used to tell you stories about him when you were little.”
An uneasy sensation settled in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t remember.”
“You would if you weren’t so bent on denying everything about your lineage.”
“Lineage seems like a fancy way to describe ‘long line of alcoholics,’” Heather said dryly. She regretted it as soon as she saw her mother’s face shut down.
“I gotta get to bed,” Sally muttered, and snatched up the crocheted blanket she’d been snuggling with. She aimed the remote at the TV to shut it down, then brushed past Heather on her way to the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” Heather called after her. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth. Part of it, anyway. I guess it’s the only part you care about.”
Tucked under the eaves in her own bedroom, it took Heather a long time to fall asleep. The branches of the apple tree outside her window cast strange shadows across her floor, especially after a night wind picked up. Had that apple tree been around when her great-great-grandfather Hennessy had lived here?
Even though the house dated from the 1960s, the land had belonged to the McPhee’s since the early 1900s. Maybe Hennessy McPhee had casually tossed an apple core back then. Now a gnarled tree swayed outside her window, its creaky movements keeping her awake at night.
She pulled the quilt over her head in an effort to block out the sounds and the shadows. She wasn’t here to delve into the past. All she wanted was to find Gabby. She ought to be out there right now, searching—though there wasn’t much she could do in the dark.
Gabby. What the F were you up to? Are you okay? If you turn up tomorrow, I promise I’ll throw myself heart and soul into the podcast, even if The New Yorker hires me. But you have to be alive and safe and well. Deal?
Wind moaned through the branches of the apple tree.
I’ll take that as a yes.
10
Heather was waitingon the bench outside the station house when Luke pulled up the next morning just before eight o’clock. A soft gray fog blurred the trees and muffled the sounds of the spring warblers. With dark sunglasses tucked into the opening of her billowy button-down shirt, which she wore over tight white jeans, Heather could have been one of the glamorous guests at the Lightkeeper Inn. No self-respecting local would wear white jeans; they were too easily stained with fish blood or gravel dust. He took her outfit as a statement that she no longer saw herself as an islander. Fair enough.
“I brought you coffee from my mother’s place.” She held up a carton that held two to-go cups.
“Please tell me it’s a Bloodbath.”
“Not something you hear every day,” she said with a laugh. “But yes, it’s a Bloodbath. My mom knows her regulars.”
He accepted the cup she offered him with a sigh of happiness. A Bloodbath was a triple shot of espresso with a splash of simple syrup. Somehow it went right into his veins more than any other coffee drink he’d ever tried. Even the literal “Into My Veins”—quadruple shot—didn’t have the same kick.
With Heather on his heels, he unlocked the station house and switched on the lights. “I went by Denton Simms’ house last night but he didn’t answer. I want to try again when it’s a decent hour for surprise visitors.”
“Am I here too early? Sorry.”
“No, I’m glad you’re here. Amy Lou is expecting me in half an hour. I was going to see if you wanted to come along, but I wasn’t sure how early you’d be up.”
