“Theyarejustified. Sometimes what’s right isn’t the same as what’s lawful or holy. I’m done feeling guilty for what I’ve done. And I’m not afraid of you, either.”
He takes a step away from me. “That’s because I’ve been corrupting you since high school. And that’s not some Christian bullshit I’m spouting. That’s science; that’s in books. Influence is a contagion.” His voice is bitter. “If you stick with me, I’ll ruin you like Barry said. He’s right and itkillsme, but you’re better off without me. That’s why I’m going away for good.”
“You can’t.”
“It’s already in motion. The house will sell and you’ll get everything. It’s all in my will. You’ll have freedom and power, however you want to spend it.” He swallows. “Here with Barry if you wish.”
“That’s why you went to Durham to see Sam—to make a will? Ever, that would mean…” I freeze as I realize what he’s been planning. “No.”
“We both know what’s coming. I’ll be lucky if I get the electric chair, and Gerald and those fishing boys don’t tear me up first.”
“That’s not—”
He shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that, Ruth. ‘Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly.’”
“No more Chaucer. I told you to stop teasing.”
He lifts his gaze. “Come on. You and I both know I was never teasing.”
My protest dies on my tongue. The next lines of the poem slip back to me as easily as if we were eighteen again, and he’d whispered them in my ear. “‘Straight through my heart, the wound is quick and keen.’”
I look at him and the longing on his face steals my breath. His eyes are burning, one hand pressed to his chest—over his heart or his scar, I don’t know. “Ever—”
He pushes past me, throws open the door, and rushes out into the rain.
40
NOW
I seize the hem of my dressing gown and run after him. Every nightmare I’ve ever had about the Duncan house, this haunted place filled with evil spirits, has come to life. The forest is wild and howling: tree branches twist violently, whipping into my path like malevolent creatures bent on keeping me out.
“Ever,” I yell. “Stop!” But the thunder drowns my voice. The storm’s still raging; it’s the kind they pull boats off the water and board up windows for. Ever’s headed through the trees in the direction of the swamp. If he makes it there, I’ll lose him.
“Ever!” My lungs burn. I slip in mud and barely keep upright. Brilliant white lightning daggers into a clearing just ahead of him.
“Please,” I shout, and, like magic, he stills. I keep running even as he turns and strides in my direction.
“Go back inside,” he yells. He’s soaked as I am, his black T-shirt clinging to his chest, his biceps, his black jeans to his thighs. He shoves dripping hair off his forehead. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You’ve never infantilized me before.” I struggle to catch my breath. “Don’t start now.”
Rain begins to pour so thick I can barely see past him. It creates aneerie sense of seclusion, just the two of us in a bubble of space and time and tempest.
Ever yells to be heard over the wind. “Why are you following me?”
“You can’t just say that and leave.”
“You have a fiancé.”
Even though we’re standing in the pouring rain, heat radiates from me. “Don’t try to turn this around. And he’s not my fiancé—I never said yes.”
“You said no to me when we were nineteen and I asked you to leave Bottom Springs, remember? You practically shoved me away. And then you said no again just days ago. Remember that night on the canoe, when I tried to touch you and you were so frightened you practically dove off the boat?” Ever’s eyes search mine. “You’ve always been clear about where you stood and that’s okay, that’s good. I respect it and I promised to never overstep. So let me keep my promise.”
I have to restrain myself from shaking him. “I said no because of what Idid. I thought you’d hate me if you found out. I thought you’d feel betrayed. I was trying to protect you and punish myself.”
I take a step closer, but he throws out a hand to stop me, like I’m dangerous. “I know what you want, Ruth.” His chest heaves. “And it’s not fair.”
“What do I want?”
