When the sun started to set, Rebecca and I began cleaning up despite the milling family. We left the food, wrapped in tinfoil or boxes to be put away, and took our trays and other supplies out to the van. I’d made my last trip to the vehicle when I noticed Heathcliff standing in the backyard, his gaze on the sky. Fireflies were just beginning to light up, the first few stars noticeable in that strange blue heaven, the kind of blue that couldn’t decide which shade it wanted to be.
Throwing a quick glance at the house, I turned toward the yard, my stomach dropping with each step forward, my cowardice a monster waiting to swallow me whole.
“Not thinking about jumping into hay, are you?” I teased as I approached.
Startled, Heathcliff’s head dropped, his gaze finding my figure. “What?”
I gestured at the barn. “Just thinking about the loft when we were in high school,” I replied.
“Oh,” he answered, his head rising again. “Seems kind of silly now, doesn’t it?”
His words struck me like an arrow, causing my heart to bleed, and I froze. “I don’t think so. Everyone’s got to learn how to fall somewhere. That way when they have to get back up, they already know how it feels to land.”
Heathcliff inhaled, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “It was good seeing you today, Hawthorne.” His gaze dropped, and I studied his face.
“What happened to you?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could catch them. My words had always done that around Heathcliff. “The man I saw in there today isn’t the one I knew years ago.”
“It’s only been five years,” he mumbled.
“I’m looking at you, and I see more than five years etched into your skin.”
He didn’t expect my reply, his gaze capturing mine despite the encroaching darkness. “You always did see things other people missed.”
I glanced at the house. “No one is missing this, Heathcliff. I’ve seen your mother’s eyes, and I’ve heard the fear in your grandmother’s voice. What happened to you?”
He laughed, the sound short. “Heathcliff …”
My cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry … Max.”
He took a step toward me. “No, don’t apologize. It’s okay … call me Heathcliff.”
Fear made me want to leave him alone in the darkness, but my memories of the boy I’d been in love with, the one I still loved, moved me forward. “Your family has always meant so much to you,” I said. “What’s with the distance?”
He stared at me, silence stretching, before he replied, “I wish I’d never left. I know now why my grandfather loved his hooch in the woods. It was the only place he could go that helped him live with his ghosts.”
I thought back on the past few years, the pictures Lynn had shown me of Heathcliff in his boot camp graduation photo. I thought back on the tears when Mams told me about his deployments. Honestly, I didn’t know where he’d been, how long he’d been there, or what he’d seen, but I knew him. Or I thought I did. Mams had said I’d know how to help him, and in a way, maybe she was right.
“That’s the thing with saving people,” I told him, stepping forward so that I was next to him, my gaze following his to the sky. “Sometimes you lose some of them.”
“Too many of them,” Heathcliff muttered.
I was so afraid I was going to say the wrong thing, that I was going to chase him away, but it seemed even more wrong to walk away.
“It matters if you tried, and I know you. I have no doubt you tried, or it wouldn’t be eating at you now.”
“Hawthorne—”
“Nothing is forever, you know. I don’t know what you’ve seen. I don’t know how horrific it was, but I do know something about carrying someone you love around with you. I know what loss is, and what it means to carry those ghosts with you.”
“Hawthorne—” Heathcliff began again, but I wouldn’t let him finish.
“I found my parents,” I told him. “I did. Two years ago. On a break from school, I got curious and did a little digging. My mom is on her fifth marriage, living somewhere in Florida. My dad is dead.” Heathcliff’s head dropped. I could feel his gaze on my face, but I kept my eyes on the sky. “Drug overdose, the papers said. It happened ten years ago, so I’m assuming Uncle Gregor knew, but like you, he always wanted to save people. He wanted to save them from harsh realities. You know, harsh realities aren’t so bad though. Not when you know who you are. Because the key to climbing out of that harshness is knowing the person that climbs free of it; yourself.”
“Hawthorne,” Heathcliff began. This time I didn’t stop him, and I was glad I didn’t. “I’ve missed you.”
A door opened behind us, Ginger’s laughter following her as she stumbled outside. “It’s a party, Brayden. You should really try smiling.”
I assumed Brayden was Heathcliff’s friend and Ginger’s brother, their approaching steps cutting off our conversation.
“Oh, there you are, Max! We’ve been looking for you,” Ginger called.
My head lowered, my gaze swinging to the intruders. Ginger’s smile fell when she saw me, but Brayden’s eyes filled with curiosity, his gaze flicking from Heathcliff to me.
“Did you ever say your name earlier?” Ginger asked, her eyes on my face, her lips turned down in a frown.
“Hawthorne,” I answered, nodding. “Most people just call me Hawthorne.”