Because my mother had conceded to my insistence that he be buried here, in this spot, I had let her take the lead with the design of his headstone. Nothing had seemed right anyway. No words were good enough to express how I felt at his loss. No trite poem or pithy epitaph could ever convey how much I’d loved him. As far as I was concerned, it both didn’t matter what she chose to have engraved, as much as it mattered immensely. It could never be enough, but I desperately needed it to be. I needed anyone who stood in front of his grave to know how much my brother, my twin brother, had meant to me. How much I’d loved the irritating bones of him. How he’d been a part of me since always, for as long as I could remember, and even before that. I needed them to understand that a part of me lay buried here with him. That when he’d died, a piece of me had died too.
But there wasn’t a headstone big enough to fit everything I needed to say, and not enough adjectives in the world to say it. There was just this, and because anything would be inadequate, this would have to do.
I saw down beside the headstone, and ran my fingers over the ceramic photo of him. They came away salty from the sea spray that made its way even up here to the top of the cliff. I loved this photo of him. Felt that it summed him up pretty effectively in one image. It was taken only a few weeks before he died, out on the lobster boat, by one of his crewmates. He’d emailed it to me after Cal died, and when I clicked on the attachment and this photo had opened, my brother’s face filling the screen, it had completely stolen the breath from me.
He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses high on his head keeping his sandy blond mop out of his piercing blue eyes. His skin tanned and freckled, his teeth white and his smile beaming as he held out a large lobster for the cameraman to see. He was beautifully, achingly perfect. Animated and so, so alive.
I still couldn’t understand how all that could just stop in an instant. I couldn’t wrap my brain around or reconcile the Cal in this photo with the Cal lying six feet underneath me in a box in the ground. How could someone so young and vivid and alive just… cease to exist any more? It didn’t seem possible, and it sure as hell wasn’t fair.
‘I know it’s been awhile,’ I told him. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t bring you any flowers. Kind of hard to carry on the bike.’
I jumped as a gull screeched loudly as it flew overhead. It headed out to sea as I watched, its gray-and-white wings stretched wide, tail feathers spread. They looked majestic in flight. Nothing like they did on shore, noisy and begging for food. The number of times I’d fallen for one standing with a leg tucked out of sight to garner sympathy. They’d conned quite a few fries out of me over the years.
‘I’m guessing Mom told you what happened with Adam,’ I said. ‘It’s probably karma.’
There was no sound apart from the rustling of the breeze in the trees surrounding the cemetery and the sound of the waves breaking onto rocks at the bottom of the cliff. I unzipped my jacket and took it off, laying it on the grass beside Cal’s grave. Underneath I was wearing a black tank top. The sun was deliciously warm on my skin, and I realized it had been a long time since I’d sat like this, skin exposed, and soaked up some vitamin D.
‘Do you remember how we used to live in our bathing suits all summer long?’ I said, leaning my back against the side of Cal’s headstone. ‘We’d put them on in the morning instead of clothes. Eat breakfast then head for the beach.’ I shook my head sadly at the memory. ‘God, I miss those days. When summer seemed to last forever and the only thing we had to worry about was sneaking in past Mom before she could see how much sand we were tracking into the house. Everything was so… trivial then. So easy. I wish I had enjoyed it more before it was over, you know? If I’d known our childhood, and my time with you was limited, I would have…’ I trailed off.
I would havewhat?Enjoyed it more? No. I would have done things differently. But regret was a road that led to madness. I knew that. At the very least it led to impulsive decisions and borderline alcoholism. I couldn’t understand people who said they had no regrets. Surely there had to besomethingabout their past they would change if they could? Some teeny tiny thing, maybe harsh words spoken or a small action taken that rippled with far-reaching consequences. The kind of ripples that change lives, send them coursing in another direction. Sometimes nothing more than a look, a missed appointment, a kiss.
There was another screech of a gull. I turned my face skywards to search for it, but the sky was empty. The sound came again, this time louder. Intrigued, I got to my feet and took a few steps. It sounded in pain, and not in the sky as I’d first thought. Somewhere lower. I scanned the tree line, the grass at the top of the cliff, but there was no sign of an injured bird anywhere. Then I heard it again, and this time I recognized it for what it was.
‘Help!’
My stomach dropped when I realized that it was coming from over the edge of the cliff.
‘Hello?’ I shouted, gingerly making my way over to the edge carefully. I lay on my stomach and wriggled as far as I could, peering down. There was a woman sprawled on her back on the rocks below. Her leg was at a weird angle, and she had blood on her face. When she saw me, she started sobbing with relief.
‘Oh, thank God,’ she called out between sobs. ‘I didn’t think anyone was going to come along. Please help me.’
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ she wailed. ‘I was just walking along the trail, enjoying the view and then the next thing I knew I was down here. I think maybe I stood on some loose rock or something. I fell and now my ankle is broken. There was a snapping sound, and now there’s a piece of bone poking…’ Her voice broke and she started sobbing. ‘There’s so much blood. I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared.’
‘It’s OK,’ I called back to her. ‘Just…’ I’d been about to saywait there,but where was she going to go? ‘I’m going to get you some help,’ I promised, starting to wriggle back away from the edge.
‘Don’t leave me,’ she shouted. ‘I think the tide is coming in.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I reassured her. ‘I just need to get my phone from my jacket so I can get you some help, OK? Then I’ll be right back.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise. What’s your name?’
She sobbed. ‘Casey.’
‘I’m not leaving you, Casey. I’m going to get you some help, and you’re going to be just fine.’
‘I’m so scared.’
‘I know.’
14
JACK
‘I hear Hannah’s back already,’ Dion said to me as we drove in his truck out towards Sailor’s Bluff. He was a plumber by trade. Had his own business, imaginatively called ‘The Plumber’. He had been working a job at the school in town when the emergency call had come in and had got to search and rescue headquarters at the same time as I did, so we loaded the gear into his truck and headed out together. He was one of the first guys I met when I’d moved here and I’d liked him instantly. I fancied myself as being a pretty good judge of character, and Dion was an easygoing, good-natured guy. Anyone who volunteered to be part of search and rescue had to be a good person.
