Page 62 of Haunted Hearts
Well, let ‘em wonder. I’m still figuring it out myself.
“Will!” Ethan Wilde comes forward to shake my hand. He nods to Lydia. “Nice to see you.”
“Likewise,” Lydia says, giving him a quick little nod in return. She’s still not Ethan’s biggest fan—and I can’t say I blame her—but she’s trying, and that’s what counts.
Nancy comes over and hands us a couple of hard hats. I swear, even with a shell of hard plastic on her head, Lydia’s still so goddamn beautiful. Her eyes are dark and sparkling beneath the brim, and her hair cascades around her shoulders. I don’t think anyone has ever made a hard hat look so sexy. Even though I know it’ll only make the people here more curious, I reach out to stroke her silky hair. I can’t resist.
“Now,” Nancy says, clapping her hands together. “Before we start, we have a bit of an announcement.”
Lydia’s eyes flash to mine, and I shrug. I haven’t heard anything about an announcement, but I’m instantly a little tense. We’ve come so far—thanks to her mom’s reassurance, Lydia’s finally feeling okay about the renovation—and I hope to god they’re not going to throw us another curveball.
“Right,” Ethan says. He scans the faces in our group, and his gaze lands on Lydia. “Before we break ground, we wanted to share that the board has officially approved a name for the new computer lab. It was important to us to honor the library’s history, as well as acknowledge the central role it’s played throughout the years in so many lives here in Hawthorne Bay. To that end, I’m happy to announce that today we’re breaking ground on the new Sophia Chandler Media Center.”
Lydia sucks in her breath. I see her lips move, like she’s trying to parse what Ethan just said, and she knits her brow.
“Lydia,” Nancy continues. “I know it’s not what you originally wanted—but we wanted you to know how much the people of this town appreciated your mother, how much she is missed. We thought it was only appropriate that her memory be honored. A sort of tying together of the past and future, if you will.”
“Thank you,” Lydia says. She presses her lips together, blinking back tears. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and squeeze.
“And…” Ethan clears his throat, shoots me a meaningful glance that tells me everyone here’s noticed that Lydia and I are more than friends. He hands Lydia and me each a shovel. “We also thought the two of you might like to do the honors of breaking ground.”
Lydia takes the shovel from Ethan and grips it in her hands. This time, she grins. “You bet we would.”
The small crowd gathers around us as we lift our shovels, waiting for the countdown.
“Threeeeee,” Ethan calls, getting things back to business.
A photographer jumps out of nowhere and kneels down in front of us, poised to capture the moment. The rest of the board members, along with Nancy and the mayor, all join in for Ethan’s count. “Two! One!”
With a glance between us, Lydia and I dig the tips of our trowels into the ground and turn over a shovelful of rich, dark earth. Nancy whistles, and the rest of the crowd claps. A camera flashes and the photographer waves us closer together, holding up a finger to get us to hold our pose, then ushering more people into the frame.
Between photos with the mayor, the board, Ethan, and Nancy, I steal a glance at Lydia. Her eyes are sparkling, and she’staking in the moment. There’s a sort of lightness around her now, a softness I had always sensed but could never really see. But now it’s emanating from every fiber of her being—and she looks absolutely radiant.
For a second, I let myself tune into the ever present whisperings around me, let the voices start to come through. Lydia’s mom isn’t here now. Her business is finished, her work done. But this town’s full of ghosts, in every sense of the word. After all, it’s not just people who die. It’s dreams, too. I know firsthand how broken hopes and ruined hearts can last for years, letting their darkness linger.
But for every shattered love, for every fractured ounce of trust, there’s another kind of ghost—a spark of hope that flickers in the darkness. And those little sparks can last a fucking lifetime. They just need a little squinting to see, a little fanning to make them burst into something brighter.
Lydia beams at me, coming to wrap a slender arm around my waist. As she nears, the whispers grow louder—only for a second, before I tune them out again. The spirits in this town are always moving, always swirling, always sorting through their own unfinished business. And while I’m not running away from them anymore, I’m not here to make their troubles mine. I’ve got my own life to live. My own people to take care of. And that includes me.
But I think it’s more than just Sophia Chandler who Lydia and I set free. From the crescendo of whispers I just heard, I’m pretty sure the spirits of Hawthorne Bay are celebrating with us. Here to honor the ones who’ve gone on, moved toward the light.
I’m drawn out of my thoughts when the sauntering, lanky form of my brother Zeke comes striding toward the library lawn. He’s been strictly forbidden from getting behind the wheel of a car for several months, so lucky me has been carting his assaround. Today, I thought he planned to hang out at Brewed Awakening.
Well—no such luck.
Thankfully, though, the crowd has already dissipated, and the only people still standing around chatting are Nancy and the mayor. When Zeke whips out his phone and starts checking his reflection in the selfie cam, library building in the background, Lydia shoots me a curious glance. My reaction is the same as hers. What the hell…?
“Hey.” I clap my hand onto Zeke’s shoulder. “We’re not quite done here. Give us five minutes?”
Zeke waves a hand at me. “Dude. You guys do your thing. I’m not here foryou.”
“Uh…” I’m at a loss. I alsoreallydon’t want Zeke here, acting a fool around the mayor. “Who are you here for?”
“Mylisteners, Will. It’s episode three of the Zeke Holloway Haunted Experience podcast, and I’m taking my listeners on a live journey through one of the most haunted spots in town: the Hawthorne Bay Public Library.”
“Oh, good god. Just what the world needs—a Zeke Holloway podcast.”
“Love your attitude, bro,” Zeke says, pounding my biceps with his fist.
