Page 19 of Ebbing Tides (The Lighthouse Duology #2)

I followed him into the house, and it felt like crossing through the veil between the lands of the dead and living.

The TV was on, playing a children’s show for Melanie’s two youngest sons, Danny and CJ.

Her oldest was sitting in a wingback chair, flipping through what looked like a journal or sketchbook of some sort.

All three boys diverted their attention to me, and I lifted my hand in a wave.

“Hey, guys,” I said, offering a friendly albeit hesitant smile.

Danny muttered a quick, “Hi,” before returning his attention to the TV while Luke couldn’t seem to be bothered to say anything at all.

I didn’t take it personally.

CJ, however, seemed to find more interest in me than whatever show he and his brother were watching as he jumped up from the couch to hurry over. Once again in nothing but a diaper.

“Where’s your dog?” he asked, standing at my feet and looking up with huge, hopeful eyes.

I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder. “He’s waiting in the truck.”

“I wanna see!” he exclaimed, bouncing on his toes.

I glanced in the direction Charlie had walked in.

From where I stood, I saw through an open doorway and into what appeared to be a kitchen.

For years, I had been working in this cemetery, and this was only the second time I’d found myself in the caretaker’s—my friend’s—house.

I wasn’t sure what that said about how close our relationship was—and I wasn’t sure what it said about me to never have noticed.

“Um …” I dragged my gaze from the doorway and back down to the little boy standing before me. “Maybe I’ll get him in a couple of minutes. He’s taking a little nap.”

It was only partly a lie. Lido hadn’t been sleeping when I left the truck, but knowing him, he had probably fallen asleep by now.

CJ pouted. “Ahh,” he whined, throwing his head back and stomping his foot. “I wanna see him now .”

“Hey, you know what?” I asked, going down to his level on one bended knee and digging into my jacket pocket. “I had this in my truck and thought you might like it.”

“What is it?” he asked, already forgetting the avoided tantrum to lean closer.

I pulled out the truck I’d bought from Jack and held it out to CJ. “Do you like cars?”

His big brown eyes rounded with excitement as he nodded. “Yes,” he replied, already taking it from my hands.

I nudged my chin toward the toy. “Your mom told me your dad drove that same truck,” I explained. “So, now, you have one too.”

CJ met my eye. “My dad’s in Heaven.”

The way he said the words so plainly, so matter-of-fact, hit me like a punch to the gut. I nodded.

“Yeah, I know,” I replied softly.

“Have you been to Heaven?” He tipped his head curiously.

“No, stupid,” Luke jabbed from across the room. “Only dead people go to Heaven.”

CJ looked at me, nearly disappointed with finding this out. A flicker of hurt passed over his gaze, and I smiled reassuringly.

“I’ve never been there,” I told him. “But I know a lot of nice people who are there right now.”

“You know dead people?”

I looked up, darting my eyes toward the doorway and wondering what was happening in that kitchen, before I looked back at CJ. “I do.”

“A lot?”

“Quite a few.”

“Why?”

I sighed, wondering where Melanie was and just how much she’d want me to divulge to her little boy. Hell, had I already said too much?

“Well,” I began with a deep breath, “for a long time, I was a soldier and—”

“You’re a soldier?” Danny asked, suddenly interested in our conversation. He jumped off the couch to walk toward us.

“I was,” I answered. “Not anymore though.”

“Did you drive a tank?”

I smiled at his enthusiasm and shook my head. “No, I didn’t drive a tank.”

“Did you get hurt?” he asked as his little brother stared at me with so much wonder that you would think he’d just met the Easter Bunny.

“I did,” I said, then turned my head to tap on one of my hearing aids, nearly invisible unless you knew to look for them. “I lost my hearing.”

That grabbed Luke’s attention. “You’re deaf?”

“Yep.”

He laid the book on the table between the two chairs and began to walk toward our little huddle, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “If you’re deaf, how can you hear me talking to you?”

“I have hearing aids,” I said, gesturing toward my ears.

Luke squinted his eyes, as if trying to see the devices. “Do you know sign language?”

I shook my head. “Nah, never bothered to learn.”

“A kid in my class is deaf,” he said, crossing his arms. “But he talks funny.”

Sometimes, kids had a way of observing things so plainly that they could almost be perceived as cruel. But there was nothing cruel about what Luke had said, and I smiled with understanding.

“I dunno if it’s nice to say the way he talks is funny ,” I corrected gently. “But I bet he sounds pretty different, right?”

Luke considered the question, then nodded.

“That’s because he doesn’t know exactly how words are supposed to sound. But it’s awesome that he tries though, don’t you think?”

He nodded again, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah, he is pretty cool.”

“See? You—”

“Hey.”

The sound of Melanie’s voice drew my attention from her three boys.

She stood there, across the room, barely inside the living room, wearing the same loose-fitting sweatshirt she'd worn last night, paired with black leggings and winter boots.

Her hair was twisted into a single braid, draping over one shoulder.

Her eyes and lips coated and lined in just a touch of makeup.

It spoke such volumes to me that this woman—who had suffered unimaginable loss, who was responsible for the lives of three young boys—could devote the smallest bit of time to herself every day.

Laura never had, and while that was equally admirable—to give yourself away for the lives of your children—it was just as admirable to me that Melanie could set aside time, even just a few minutes, to make herself feel good.

I could make her feel good too. I did . I did do that, and I could do it again if she let me.

“Hi,” I answered finally, realizing I'd been staring for too many seconds too long.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and cocked her hip as her hands fiddled inside her long sleeves, her eyes staring at me like I was a puzzle to piece together and figure out.

“What's, uh … what's up?”

I cleared my throat and smiled at the boys as I patted CJ's head and slowly stood up, wincing at the ache in my knees and remembering once again that I was no longer that twenty-something-year-old guy, belly-crawling with ease through the desert.

“I was hoping I could have a word with you.”

“A word ?” she asked, lifting one brow.

I nodded. “If that's okay.”

She worried her bottom lip for a moment before replying, “Yeah, sure. Outside?”

My gaze dropped to the boys, who were clearly curious and skeptical once again. Then, looking back at her, I quickly nodded.

Melanie looked over her shoulder, back toward the kitchen, and said, “Stormy, Charlie, I'm going outside for a minute to talk to Max. Can you keep an eye on the boys?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Stormy answered, heading right away into the living room.

The black-haired body piercer, with a face heavily adorned with bits of metal through her nose and lips, flashed a smile in my direction, offering a little wave.

“Hey, Max.”

“Hi, Stormy.”

She dropped onto the middle couch cushion and patted either side of her. “Come on, kiddos. Let's see if there's something else on TV.”

Danny and Luke both walked away without question, but CJ lingered as Melanie came forward, her eyes on me with every step she took.

When she stood beside him, she laid a comforting hand on top of his head and said, “I'll be back in a few minutes, okay, sweetheart?”

Still, he kept his eyes on me. “You be back too?”

I lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Not sure, buddy. We'll see if I have time before work.”

He twisted his little lips to one side, looking as though he had a question, but didn't know how to ask. But instead of saying anything more, he walked away and crawled onto Stormy's lap.

Melanie took the lead—she seemed to have a habit of doing that, and I couldn't say I minded following her silent orders one bit—and reached around me for the doorknob. She opened the door and stepped outside, leaving me to trail behind.

A gust of wind swept the stray hairs off her forehead as I closed the door behind me. She wrapped her arms around her middle, walking to the opening in the short stone wall surrounding Charlie's property. Then she turned around, giving me her full attention.

She held eye contact with ferocity, and I narrowed my gaze.

“Are you mad at me?” I guessed.

“Why would I be mad?” she answered, her tone colder than the air around us.

“I don't know. I'm just getting the feeling that maybe you might be.”

She shook her head, forcing an air of nonchalance I couldn't begin to believe. “I have no reason to be mad at you. There's nothing to be mad about.”

I studied her for a moment longer, watching as her hardened facade quickly began to crumble.

She sucked in a deep, quivering breath as she diverted her eyes to somewhere off in the distance.

She tightened her arms and swallowed, blinking rapidly, and I thought …

no, I knew she was trying to keep herself from crying.

“Melanie,” I said, taking a hesitant step toward her.

She sniffed, squeezed her eyes shut, and held up a hand, stopping me in my tracks.

I watched her take a few deep breaths, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.

An insatiable ache came over me to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and protect her from whatever was pulling her away from me.

But I stood in place, respecting her need for distance and ignoring my desire for connection.

“You wanted to talk,” she reminded me, slowly lowering her hand and opening her eyes. Still, she wouldn't look at me. “What did you want to say?”