The Way Back To Erin

“That sounds like a good idea,” Burke said, uneasy about where the conversation was headed.

Aunt Lenora shook her head. “She quit her job, at Callahan’s.”

“I know.”

She continued shaking her head. “That young chef who owns it, Connor...he was sorry to see her go. Told her she was welcome back any time.”

Burke didn’t speak. Aunt Lenora obviously had something on her mind, and he figured he’d just have to wait for her to reach her point. He’d witnessed it a time or two in the past—when she had something to share, she rambled on with steadfast determination until she reached her conclusion.

“I worry that she spends too much of her time here. With me and Kitt. She should go out more.”

“Well, where did she go just now?”

Aunt Lenora looked sad. “To the lighthouse. She goes there to feel closer to him.”

Burke leaned back in his chair. “Him?”

“Gavin.”

“Oh.” Burke felt the familiar tug of grief...and shame. He cleared his throat. “Why the lighthouse?”

Aunt Lenora shrugged. “You’d have to ask her.”

Burke didn’t reply even as the conversation faded into silence. Aunt Lenora worked her way through her pancakes while Burke sipped his coffee. He had a feeling the old woman wasn’t finished, and his suspicions were confirmed a second later when she spoke up once more.

“You should talk to her.”

“Me? Why? What would I say?”

“Tell her not to worry so much about me, or the inn. Tell her it’s okay to go out, to be with other people, to be...happy again.”

Burke wasn’t exactly comfortable with this directive, but before he could formulate a response, Aunt Lenora switched topics.

“And how about you? Have you heard from Tessa?”

The reminder of his runaway bride pierced his pride. “No,” he admitted. “I haven’t.” He’d checked his phone before heading downstairs for breakfast. There had been several texts, expressing sympathy, including one from Harper, Tessa’s sister. But nothing from his fiancée. No texts of explanation. No voicemails saying she was sorry or offering an explanation. Only silence.

“Then you’ll stay.”

“Aunt Lenora, I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

She ignored him.

“I can pay you, if it helps, since your bookings are down—”

“You can work for your keep.”

Aunt Lenora knew him too well. When he’d first come to live with her, at fourteen, he was already scarred by too many relatives who made him and Gavin feel like a burden. He didn’t appreciate handouts, couldn’t abide feeling indebted to others. By offering him the option to work for his room and board, she’d eliminated one of his strongest objections.

And he couldn’t share the other one with her.

“I don’t know,” he hedged, still trying to find a way out. “Maybe it would be better if I just left town. I mean, with Tessa here and all...”

Aunt Lenora made a face. “You cannot run forever.” Just then, Kitt reentered the kitchen, carrying a pair of fuzzy slippers. He took them to Aunt Lenora and without a word, placed them at her feet where she could easily slide her toes inside.

“Thank you, Kitt.” She patted his hand and met Burke’s gaze. “You know, there’s some drywall that needs replaced in the upstairs hallway. I think your uncle Burke planned to work on that this afternoon. Perhaps you could help him?”

The little boy’s gaze flitted to Burke, his eyes lighting with joy. There was no way he could say no to Aunt Lenora, or Kitt, now.

But he couldn’t stay forever. His conscience would never allow it.

* * *

THE BREEZE OFF the bay whipped the flag that sat next to the lighthouse. Erin listened to the fabric snapping in the wind and imagined it was Gavin, his spirit reminding her he was nearby. She wasn’t sure she believed that, but sometimes, just the thought of him watching over her was enough to get her through the day.

She shifted, settling more comfortably on the bench that offered a magnificent view of the water, and started her weekly conversation.

“So, you’ll never believe what happened yesterday. Tessa stood Burke up at their wedding.”

It had felt strange, at first, speaking aloud when she was all by herself. She refrained if there were others nearby, but she’d learned that during this particular time of the day, on Sunday mornings, the lighthouse grounds were usually pretty empty. So this had became her time, the time she spent with Gavin.

“Burke stayed at the inn last night. Aunt Lenora insisted.” Erin bit her lip, uncertain how much of her thoughts she wanted to voice aloud. “And now she’s invited him to stay for as long as he needs, until he can figure things out. I wish she hadn’t. I don’t want him living there. He’s never liked the Moontide.” She felt a ripple of guilt for such uncharitable thoughts. “I know he doesn’t have anywhere else to go, but it just seems...wrong, somehow. To have him there when you’re...not.”

She sighed and paused in her one-sided conversation to watch a seagull swoop down over the water.

She didn’t know how to express it. Or rather, didn’t want to speak aloud the real reasons Burke’s presence made her uneasy. She might have been talking to the air, but on some level, a small part of her believed Gavin could hear her. And she wasn’t willing to share her secret with him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

“Sometimes, I think I’m a terrible person,” she whispered into the wind. “Burke just lost the woman he loves, and now he has nowhere to live. It makes sense for him to stay at the Moontide.”

But his presence is a reminder of my guilt.

She cleared her throat and fell silent as she noticed an older couple shuffling along the brick path that wrapped around the lighthouse. They were both hunched over slightly, their arms threaded tightly together as they moved along.

Her heart ached. That was supposed to have been her and Gavin, growing old together, spending Sunday mornings walking beside the lighthouse. That had been the plan. There had never been any question that Findlay Roads was where they’d make their home after Gavin was finished with the army. It was here that they both had found peace after years of moving around the country—her as a military brat before her mom had settled her in Findlay Roads while she was still in the middle of high school and Gavin being shuffled between family members after his parents’ death. They’d wanted to raise Kitt there, to have him know the stability and relationships they had missed as a child.

So much for that, Erin thought bitterly. All because one person had one drink too many and decided he wasn’t too drunk to drive. It was no consolation that the man responsible for taking Gavin’s life was serving a five-year prison sentence for vehicular homicide.

Erin didn’t want revenge for what had happened. She wanted Gavin back. And nothing in the world could make up for the ocean of tears she’d cried nor the sadness that still resided in her son’s eyes.

“It should be you,” she spoke aloud, now that the older couple had moved beyond earshot. “It should be you, living at the Moontide. Not Burke.”

But deep down she wondered if this was fate’s way of punishing her for the past.

* * *

BURKE USED A utility knife to cut carefully into the drywall surrounding the crack Aunt Lenora had pointed out in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He felt Kitt at his side, though the little boy didn’t say a word. But he huddled close, and Burke sensed the child’s gaze fastened on his movements. He finished cutting and pulled away the drywall paper to begin chipping at the compound underneath. Kitt leaned in so close that Burke could feel the little boy’s breath on his chin.

“You want to give it a try?”

Kitt jerked back in surprise at being addressed.

“It’s not hard,” Burke assured. “Watch.” He demonstrated how to use a drywall knife to scrape off any loose debris then held the handle toward Kitt.

The little boy took it and edged in closer, tongue tucked between his lips, as he awkwardly tackled the repair Burke had started. His attempts to scrape the loose compound free resulted in a few more nicks to the wall.

“Here, like this.” Burke took the smaller hand in his and helped guide the blade along the wall, loosening a spray of debris.

“There you go.” He removed his hand and let Kitt have another try.

The little boy moved slower this time but with more precision and after another minute, Burke moved away to get the drywall compound for the next step in the process. By the time he sat back down on the bedroom floor, Kitt had done a decent job of clearing the surface.

“Not bad,” he declared. “Maybe we should go into business. Daniels and Daniels Drywalling. It has a nice ring to it.”

Kitt didn’t say anything, but the grin he flashed was the biggest Burke had seen yet from his nephew.

Burke continued the repairs and made short work of applying compound and sanding down the wall.

“There we go. All that’s left is to paint.”

“How’d you learn to do that?” It was the first Kitt had spoken since they’d come upstairs together.

He shrugged in response. “I don’t know. I just picked it up somewhere, I guess.” He cocked his head. “Did you ever help your dad around the house?”

Kitt didn’t respond but lowered his head. Burke winced. Kitt had only been four years old when Gavin had died. Not old enough to have participated in too many projects around the inn. And given how Gavin had been deployed in the army for months at a time only reminded Burke just how much Kitt had been shortchanged in his relationship with his father.

“I probably picked it up from your dad, actually. He was always good at this kind of thing.”

Kitt’s head lifted. He followed Burke as they moved into the hall, where Aunt Lenora had mentioned there was another crack that needed to be repaired.

“He could fix anything,” Burke went on. “He was like the resident handyman here at the inn when we were teens.” Burke paused, remembering. “Actually, I’d forgotten that. Your dad and I both had chores when we lived here. I usually had to mow the lawn and rake leaves in the fall. But Gavin, he got all the repair jobs because he was so good at it. I mean, this house is old. So things were always breaking, and Gavin would fix them right up.”

“How old?”

“Hmm?” Burke asked distractedly as he searched for the crack Aunt Lenora had mentioned. He found it relatively easily. She, or perhaps Erin, had positioned a small table in front of the worst part to hide it. But it was still visible if you stood a few feet back. He put down the drywall tools and lifted the table out of the way.

“How old is the Moontide?” Kitt asked.

“Oh, way old. From before the 1800s. It was built several years after the end of the Revolutionary War, I think. I remember once this guy came to stay here for a weekend, and he kept talking at breakfast about the archeology of houses like this, how they survived attacks during the War of 1812 and stuff, when the British were trying to take the Bay.”

Burke turned and caught Kitt’s befuddled expression. He grinned.

“Let me put it this way. This inn has been standing for well over two hundred years.”

Kitt’s eyes grew round at this number. “Two hundred years?” he breathed.

“Yep.”

Burke examined the six-inch gash in the wall, wondering how it had happened and then decided it didn’t matter. Aunt Lenora had grumbled often enough about how the more careless guests at the inn treated the house. People didn’t worry about damages when they’d be gone by the end of the week. Although, with a house as old as the Moontide, repairs had to be expected. A building didn’t get to be around this long without its fair share of aches and pains.

“It looks like this one is going to take some work. You want to help me cut out the wall?”

What little boy didn’t like the chance to do a little demolition?

But Kitt hesitated.

“You’re going to cut the wall?”

Burke laughed. “In this case, it’s okay. It’s kind of like...we have to make this part—” he pointed at the crack “—worse before we can make it better.”

He tugged the utility knife free of his pocket and handed it to Kitt.

“You want to take a shot at it?”

Kitt stared at his hand for a long moment before reaching for the handle.

Burke squatted down next to him and pointed two inches left of the wall’s gash.

“We’re going to start here.” He held Kitt’s hand steady and helped him press into the wall.

And then he heard Erin’s voice, shrill and sharp.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

CHAPTER FOUR

ERIN FELT HER cheeks warm with anger at the sight of her six-year-old son holding a utility knife in his tiny hands. The sound of her voice caused Kitt to let go of the plastic handle and pull back, leaving the incriminating object in Burke’s hand.

“Hey,” Burke greeted her, his tone belying his confused expression. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” She experienced another swell of ire and moved forward to pluck the utility knife from Burke’s hand, careful to avoid the sharp end. Belatedly, she realized it had a safety mechanism that prevented the blade from remaining out. It was securely sheathed beneath a plastic guard. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

She was not about to let this offense go. “What do you think you’re doing, giving a knife to a child?”

Burke blinked, his lips parting in surprise. “I was right here. Nothing was going to happen.”

“He’s six years old, Burke. You can’t let him play with a knife.”

“He wasn’t playing,” Burke defended. “We were patching drywall.”

Erin’s lips pursed. This was why it was a bad idea for Burke to live at the inn. He just didn’t understand. He hadn’t been around kids enough. He didn’t know what was acceptable and what wasn’t. He wasn’t Kitt’s father—

She drew this thought up short. Of course Burke wasn’t Kitt’s father. But he was his uncle. And in truth, Erin couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Kitt interact with anyone the way he’d been interacting with Burke a moment ago. Some of her anger deflated.

Some. But not all.

“You have to be more responsible, Burke. If you plan to live here—”

“Whoa. Hold on.” Burke held up a hand. “This is temporary, Erin. I’m not planning to stay here long. Just until I can figure out what’s next.”

These words should have relieved her. But she experienced a pang of disappointment instead.

Kitt stood to his feet then, turned and hurried away, his tiny footfalls echoing through the upstairs hall as he headed downstairs. She sighed.

“What did I say?” Burke asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Erin didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure what Kitt’s abrupt departure meant. Maybe her and Burke’s disagreement had bothered him. He wasn’t used to hearing Erin raise her voice. He rarely gave her reason to.

“I should talk to him,” she said and headed toward the stairs.

“Erin, wait.”

She halted, her heartbeat picking up speed as Burke came up behind her.

“Are we...good?”

She tensed at the question, too aware of how closely Burke stood. She could see every dark fleck in his eyes, and the way his lashes started out dark and then lightened toward the tips. Gavin’s eyelashes had been a dark brown the whole way through. She swallowed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Burke shifted from one foot to the other, the action moving him just slightly away from her. It was all she could do to keep from leaning in his direction to bring him closer again.

He scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable.

“I just meant...I don’t want it to be weird for you, with me staying here. I know it’s where you and Gavin—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She crossed her arms over her chest, willing Burke to drop the conversation. She didn’t want to think about what his words meant. She didn’t want to relive a past that needed to stay buried.

Burke stopped talking when she interrupted him, but his eyes were intent on hers. She blinked, refusing to look away. Refusing to back down. She would pretend as though his presence didn’t affect her, that none of it touched her. She was a master of denying her emotions.

She’d had to be or her grief would have pulled her under a long time ago.

She stared him down until his features smoothed out, understanding darkening his eyes.

“Okay then.”

She gave a short nod and made to move past him. He blocked her way for a moment longer.

“This is only temporary, Erin. I promise.”

She didn’t react, and after another few seconds, he stepped aside to let her pass. As she brushed by him, she schooled her features to a blank slate so he couldn’t see the turmoil inside her.

* * *

AFTER HIS ENCOUNTER with Erin, Burke finished up a few more of the drywall repairs on the second floor. His chores eventually led him to the large windows overlooking the Moontide’s expansive backyard. He paused to stare out the window, admiring the gazebo that had been the showcase for so many weddings over the years.

When he and Tessa had first begun planning their wedding, she had suggested the Moontide as the venue. He had been adamant in his refusal, and when Allan had proposed holding the wedding at the Delphine, Burke had pushed Tessa in that direction. She’d broached the subject of the Moontide only once, asking why he seemed to have such bitter memories of the only real home he’d known after his parents’ death.

He’d been sharp in his response, snapping something about the Moontide and all it represented for him—family vacations that he’d lost, memories that had been stolen before they were made. Tessa, with her typical sweetness, had not taken his tone to heart but rather wrapped her arms around him and replied, “Then we’ll create new memories, enough for two lifetimes, to make up for the ones you never had.”

Her goodness shamed him. She’d been understanding, far more than she should have been, especially because his answer to her was only part of the truth. The Moontide represented not only the childhood that had been taken from him...but the woman he’d once loved.

Even though she’d chosen his brother over him.

He ground his teeth, conflicting emotions assaulting him. He missed Tessa. If she were here now, she’d find a way to lift his spirits without pushing him to share what had soured his mood. Tessa had a way of knowing when he just needed her to wrap her arms around him without speaking a word. He would miss having that in his life.

Thinking of Tessa prompted him to pull his phone out of his back pocket and check the screen. No missed calls. No new texts. A couple of email alerts but nothing urgent. He clicked into the screen and began typing a new message.

Tess, are you...

He stopped and deleted the last two words and started again.

Tess, I’m sorry for...

He stopped a second time but continued to stare at the screen until the light dimmed and the phone went dark. He’d just lost the woman who was supposed to be his wife. Shouldn’t he have something to say to her?

With a sigh, he pocketed the phone and looked out over the backyard once more. As his gaze swept the overgrown lawn, his eyes caught on a flicker of movement behind one of the white oak trees. He looked closer and noticed a small foot, moving back and forth, nearly hidden from view but just barely visible with the movement.

Even from this distance, he recognized Kitt’s sneaker. His nephew must have fled outside after he’d left him and Erin earlier.

Burke stood there for another minute, waiting to see if the little boy made any moves to come inside. When he didn’t, Burke decided he’d earned a break from his repairs and headed for the stairs so he could step outside and check on his nephew.

* * *

BURKE FOUND KITT in the same position he’d witnessed from the second floor windows. The little boy was hidden behind the trunk of one of the Moontide’s ancient oaks, his foot moving back and forth to the silent rhythm that had betrayed his position. He had a book in his lap, but he wasn’t reading. The day was warming up, with only a smattering of clouds in the sky. The rain from yesterday had dried up, and the ground was dry as Burke sat down beside his nephew.

“Hey,” he greeted.

Kitt didn’t respond, didn’t so much as look at Burke.

“I wanted to thank you for your help this morning,” Burke continued, unfazed by Kitt’s silence. “Why’d you run off? We were only halfway done with the drywall repairs.”

Kitt still said nothing. His silence was nearly palpable, his sadness even more so.

“Did your leaving have something to do with...your mom and me?”

Though Kitt didn’t speak, he shifted noticeably.

“Sorry, little man. Your mom and I, we...well, she had a good point. I should have been more careful with that knife.”

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have touched it. Mom always tells me not to touch knives.”

The words came in such a rush that Burke suspected Kitt had been holding them in ever since Erin had confronted him earlier that morning.

“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Kitt mumbled, his voice so low that Burke had to lean in close to hear him. He smiled at Kitt’s concern.

“Who, me? Don’t worry about it. Your mom won’t stay mad for long.”

He didn’t know about that last part. There was a time when Erin wouldn’t have stayed mad at him. But a lot had changed since then, an ocean of silence and distance. It occurred to him, however, that maybe Erin needed him more than she let on. Not because of the friendship they’d once shared but because of what she’d lost.

What they’d all lost. Gavin.

If anyone knew what a grounding force Gavin had been, it was Burke. His older brother had held him up after the death of their parents. He’d stepped into the gap of loss and filled it as best he could. Though death had brought instability and grief, Gavin had been the one constant to see Burke through the hard times. Burke had taken that for granted, not only as a child but into adulthood. He’d been selfish in keeping his distance, assuming Gavin would always be there.

But in the end, the brother he’d idolized had been a mere mortal when death came calling. He sniffed, his eyes filling at the thought. He blinked away the tears, refusing to let Kitt see him cry. When his vision cleared, he saw his nephew was watching him.

“You think that’s true? About Mom not staying mad?”

He forced a grin. “Are you kidding? How can she stay mad at two of the most handsome guys in Findlay Roads?” He nudged Kitt, trying to draw a laugh. The most he got was the ghost of a smile.

They sat in silence for another couple of minutes. Kitt didn’t seem uncomfortable, but the sadness that constantly surrounded him lingered in the air between them. Burke tried to think of something else to say, words that could draw Kitt out of his shell.

“You asked me this morning about your dad, and stuff he did when we were kids.”

It wasn’t Burke’s first choice of conversation, but he found himself desperate to lighten Kitt’s mood. If that meant talking about the past, well, then, he’d give it a try.

“He loved to make people laugh,” Burke began, “and he could be a shameless prankster. For years, I thought he liked eating bugs.”

Kitt’s brows furrowed together. “Why?”

“Because he’d pretend to see a bug, like a fly or whatever, and he’d act like he swatted it or stomped on it to kill it, then he’d reach down, pick it up and pop it in his mouth.”

Kitt’s eyes went wide. “He really ate bugs?”

Burke smiled. “No. He usually had something else in his hand, like a raisin or a piece of food that just looked like a bug. And that’s what he’d eat. But he was so tricky with the sleight of hand that I didn’t catch on for a long time that he wasn’t really eating bugs.”

“What’s sleight of hand?” Kitt asked.

“Like when a magician pulls a quarter from your ear, but he didn’t really find it in your ear—it was in his hand all along.”