“You’re the best sister a girl could ask for. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you. I would have, you know. I’d have traded everything to take your place.”
“I wouldn’t have let you. You were always the sunshine to my rain.”The world would have been a much darker place without you in it.I don’t say the last part out loud, not wanting her to assume I think she’s weak because I don’t. I just know there was always a little darkness in me, even as a kid. I slipped into a world full of shadows and dark thoughts, even when on the outside I was all smiles and pretty pink bows. I think it was that darkness, that ability to slip into the recesses of my mind, that enabled me to survive all those years. The thought ofJasper getting his hands on Nevaeh, the girl full of sunshine, and sparkles makes me want to throw up. He’d have drained her dry and broken her into unrecognizable pieces. And I say that as a fucked-up mosaic version of my former self.
“Citi?”
“Sorry, just wool gathering. I wish neither of us had to live through what happened. What I went through was fucked-up, but that doesn’t mean your trauma was any less. Your twin sister was stolen from you, your mom killed herself, and your dad became a martyr. Your whole life changed in the blink of an eye. You don’t turn off that kind of pain and forget everything just because I’m back. You have fifteen years’ worth of damage to heal from. You can’t do that in fifteen months.”
“I hope you’re listening to yourself and taking notes.”
I give her a wry smile. “I’m going to therapy, aren’t I? Maybe you should think about going to see someone, too.”
“Maybe.”
I don’t say anything else. If she wants to go, she will. I won’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to.
“All these strong women that surround you…”
She looks at me, her face clouded. “They pity me, don’t they?”
“Not even close, you weirdo. You’re the glue that holds everyone together. Everyone here loves you. Havoc was a wise man to snap you up when he did.”
“You’re right. I’m a catch.”
I chuckle. “That you are. Now, tell me about this new book you’re working on.”
“Ooh, okay. I’m nervous about this one. It’s a little different from usual fare.”
“Okay, now you have me curious.”
She blows a loose strand of hair from her face. “It’s no secret I love this town. I spent a lot of time researching the place and kind of fell down a rabbit hole. There are lots of small towns withreally fascinating histories. There’s one about a hundred miles from here called Crowhurst.”
“Crowhurst? Never heard of it.”
“Neither had I until I was digging about towns with birds names. Don’t ask. Anyway, I came across this story about a woman who lived there during the witch trials. Her name was Dorothy Hart.”
“Ooh, so you’re doing a biography?”
“No, but I’m using her story as inspiration. She lived with her mother and father on a cattle ranch, one that had been passed down through the generations and always to the daughters.”
“Ooh, Cowboys and witches? I don’t think I’ve read anything like that before. Sounds fun.”
“Meh, fun might be pushing it.”
“Right, witch trials. Crap.”
“Honestly, most of the women hanged for witchcraft weren’t witches at all. They were just unfortunate to be born with red hair or an unusual birthmark, or just knew which plants were good for healing.”
“But there were real witches?” I’m intrigued already.
Her eyes are sparkling. “Perhaps. Legends are usually born from truths. Anyway, this woman was arrested for burning her husband’s dinner. She was killed, but not before she cursed the land, binding her bloodline to the town.”
“Did she have children?”
“Three daughters.”
“Wait. Does this mean if her decedents were killed, the town would die too?”
Her eyes sparkle with mirth. “Guess you’ll have to read it and find out.”
