“No, you’re not.” My denial is reflexive. “What do you mean, you’re leaving? We’re free from Renard now. Whatever they throw at us with Herman, we’ll figure it out. We can still have our summer.”
I need our summers. I feed and live off them all year.
He places heavy hands on my shoulders. “I was preparing to leave anyway, and then I got an offer on the house. That miserable place, Ruth—someone actually wants to buy it. Can you believe it?” He shakes his head. “I was standing in the living room, imagining finally being done with it, and I thought: what if I ask her one last time to leave with me? What if this time, she says yes?” His fingers tighten on my shoulders. “So I’m here to ask. Beg, if you want. Grab a suitcase and let’s just get in the car and leave. We can go anywhere.”
Over Everett’s head, a flock of birds comes screaming out of the trees. The earth tilts beneath my feet. “Why now? Why so urgent?”
He drops his hands. Without them, I feel I might tip over. “The time’s right, is all. Come with me, Ruth. You always wanted to leave Bottom Springs. I never understood why you didn’t.”
First, it was the money.Then, a reason I’ll never tell. The secret that lurks between us, keeping us marooned on different shores.
Ever searches my face. He must see my resistance, because his voice grows hoarse. “Why can’t you, Ruth? For God’s sake, just tell me why I left and you never followed.”
It’s knee-jerk, the need to avoid this question—that’s the only reason I can think of for why I blurt out, “Barry asked me to marry him.”
The news hits Everett like a wave: first, a pummel of shock, then the comedown of betrayal, a sort of sinking understanding. He swallows. “I see. And you said yes?”
“No. I don’t know.” Inside, alarms ring. What am I doing? “I haven’t given him an answer.”
“When?” He clears his throat. “Did he ask?”
“Days ago.” Fear and adrenaline have muddied the waters of my mind since the day they pulled Fred’s skull from the swamp, so time isn’t clear. “Weeks, maybe?”
He holds his jaw so tight I think it’ll shatter. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I did, but with everything happening…” My voice trails off.
He holds my eyes. “Ruth, are you sure you don’t know your answer?”
Itisstrange that I’ve waited until now to tell Everett—even stranger that I’m still processing how I feel. It’s like I’m groping my way through the dark, trying to understand my own heart. “Everyone expects me to, but the truth is, I don’t know if I want to get married at all. Do you know what I picture when I think about marriage? Being trapped like MaryFortenot, or nameless like the fishing wives. I think of my own mother, and Ever—I can’t be like that.”
To my surprise, he scoffs. “That’s not the kind of marriage you’d have.”
“That’s the only kind I know!” I press my hands to my neck, trying to suppress the heat welling, and turn from him. The late afternoon sun peeks over the roof of my house, extending soft beams like outstretched arms. It’s easier to speak this way, facing the sun instead of him. “It’s okay, really. I gave up on the idea of true love and soul mates a long time ago. Now the only kind of closeness I want is friendship. Like ours. That’s enough.”
His voice is sharp. “Of course it isn’t.”
I jerk like he’s slapped me.
“Don’t forget how well I know you, Ruth Cornier.” Before I can protest, he’s in front of me, the sun lighting his hair in a golden halo. “You’ve been in love with love your whole life. It’s in all the books you read. It’s all you used to talk about as a teenager. Of course you want it.”
I wipe away the moisture in my eyes. “I was a fool. Fixating on it because I was lonely. But I know better now. Love isn’t salvation; it’s a curse. Feeling so much, wanting so much, not being in control of yourself. I closed that door and I’m better for it.”
“You can’t close it,” he says gruffly. He reaches out, resting his fingers on my arm, not a demand but a plea. “It’s who you are, and I need you—” He swallows hard. “I need you to believe it. My life used to be darkness, and then you came along, sunny Ruth with your big heart. If that part of you ever gets snuffed out, I swear to God, I don’t know what I’ll…”
He stops. The pain on his face is suddenly replaced by a gutted understanding. “What am I saying? You didn’t shut the door. You just don’t want to tell me you’re going to say yes to Barry.”
“Ever, that’s not—”
“You’re going to marry him.” Ever’s voice is full of conviction. “Andgrow old with him, and have his children.” He cuts his eyes away and squares his jaw, trying to master himself. “You’ll make a private world with him.” He swallows hard and nods, as if it’s already decided, a thing he can see clearly. “And I’ll be the ghost who haunts you every summer.”
I stand there in the grass watching him bear the pain of being left behind and think for the hundredth time that I should tell him why I don’t deserve his friendship or his pain. “Ever.” My voice snags. I’ll do it, even if it means he hates me. It’s on the tip of my tongue—
“No.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “You don’t have to placate me. I’ve always known this would happen. I just…got my head turned. Forgive me, and forget I asked.” He starts toward his car.
“Stop.”
Ever freezes midstride and turns, the look on his face hauntingly hopeful.
