“She wouldn’t have lost her balance,” I said. “She was like a gymnast. She wouldn’t have.”
“It doesn’t take a very far fall, Maren, if you land wrong. It’s such a shame. She was a lovely girl, and I know how much she meant to you.”
“Stop talking about her in the past tense!” I screamed. “She isn’t gone! I’m telling you, she’s fine! There must be a mistake!”
It didn’t make any sense. Why would she climb a tree to get a stupid branch? And the Crowleys’ place? They raised cows. Their land was mostly wide-open meadow. I thought about Jo standing in a meadow surrounded by wildflowers. A shadow overhead. My dream at Magnificat!
My stomach cramped, forcing me to bend over. I knew Jo hadn’t fallen out of a tree. She’d been dropped to her death by a demon. Like my mother. Like the girl from Culloden. But why? Who had done it? Gavin said the killing demons were gone . . .
I realized that the race to save Jo had nothing to do with her being poisoned. I had dreamed about her falling, I’d been warned, and once again, I’d done nothing about it. I’d gotten back from London in time, but I still hadn’t been able to save her.
I collapsed on the bed and sobbed until I thought I might die. Hopefully, someone would be able to save me.
My grandmother was right. Jo was dead. Within the hour, the whole town knew about it. There was no pretending anymore.
School was cancelled for two days so everyone could attend her service the following day, and then meet with grief counselors.
My grandfather was gone on a long-planned, two-day golf outing up at St. Andrews—a reunion of his golf team from high school. He called to ask if he should come home, but we told him not to. What was the point? Him missing his trip wasn’t going to make anything better.
My grandmother kept checking on me. She was worried, because in less than two months I’d lost my mom and my best friend. She wanted to make sure I knew it had nothing to do with me, that it wasn’t my fault, and that these things “just happen.” Assure me I had no reason to feel cursed. Check that I was coping.
Regardless of what she said, or my conversation about guilt with Gia, I knew it was my fault. It had everything to do with me. I was cursed, and I wasn’t coping.
I sat on my window seat for hours, numb. I mashed my face against the cool, leaded windowpane and waited. Gavin was supposed to be back by now. Where is he? Can’t he hear my broken heart?
Then I saw someone walking up the lane toward our house—a guy too fair and slender to be Gavin. He looked up at our house, and I pulled back as if I’d been caught spying.
It was Graham. Why is he coming here? I hadn’t seen him since he’d saved me from his predator of a cousin, and I was kind of hoping never to run into him again. No one else had seen what he had seen. Images of Anders in the cold, stone fountain house made my head throb.
I peeked through the window. Graham had stopped at our mailbox. He removed his jacket, laid it carefully over the rounded metal box, leaned back, and then kicked it with the flat bottom of his foot. When he retrieved his coat, there was a huge dent in the side of the mailbox, and the door was hanging open, unhinged. What the heck is he doing?
I got downstairs just as my grandmother was answering the door. When I saw him, embarrassment pushed every other thought out of my mind. I was mortified at the position I’d been in that last time I’d seen him, but felt like I owed him . . . my life, maybe.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a short wave from my hip.
He held out a bouquet of flowers. “I brought you these,” he said. “I thought you might need some cheering up, considering. We sent an arrangement to Jo’s family, naturally—but I think everyone else who knew and loved her could use some of the same, especially you.” His polite awkwardness was charming.
“Thanks,” I said, taking them. They were pretty, but I didn’t want to see pretty. I wasn’t feeling pretty. I let my hand fall to my side, clutching the flowers near my knee. I forced my mouth to smile, and half succeeded.
“I was also wondering if you might do me the honor of accompanying me to the yearend ceilidh next week. I’m sure you’re just getting settled back in from your . . . ah, trip, but I wanted to be the first in line before someone else snatched you up.”
“You’re inviting me to a dance?” Is he freaking serious? I’d just learned that my best friend had died, and he was in my house, on the very same day, asking me out on a date?
He nodded, oblivious to his terrible timing. “Yes, the ceilidh. I’d like to be your escort.”
I may have felt obliged to him, but not enough to agree to something like that on a day like this. “Um, I don’t think I’m going actually. I . . .” I looked at my grandmother, searching for an excuse. “I’m going with Gran to . . .”
Thankfully, my grandmother picked up on my silent distress call. “She’s got to come with me to see her aunt Margaret in Raigmore. It’s her birthday, and we’ve planned a little family get-together. Maren was terribly disappointed when I told her it was the same night as the ceilidh, but it’s family. You understand.”
Graham looked crushed, and I did feel a little sorry for him. I wondered if he’d already asked any other girls at school and been turned down. Even though he was perfectly well-mannered and charming, it must be hard to be the “ugly duckling” to Anders’ strapping swan.
“Oh, of course,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I hope you have good weather for the drive. Give your aunt my best.”
My phone rang upstairs. “Thanks for the flowers,” I said before I turned to fetch it. My grandmother opened the door a bit wider, a cue it was time for him to go. I heard them talking about our mailbox as I ran up the stairs. Hopefully, he was apologizing for kicking it in.
It was my grandfather on the phone, checking on me for the tenth time. While I assured him I was fine, I watched Graham walk away from our house. As soon as he was out of sight, and I set down my phone, Gavin landed with a thump right in front of me on the roof. I jumped at the sudden noise, then threw the window open.
When he climbed inside, I reached my arms around his neck and buried my head against his shoulder. I was overcome at seeing him. It felt like I didn’t have anyone left in the world. Hunter was gone forever. Jo was dead. All I had was Gavin, and I’d convinced myself he wasn’t coming back either. The relief at being able to hold on to him, to feel his strong arms around me, was overwhelming. A floodgate cracked open somewhere inside me, and the tears gushed from my eyes, soaking his shirt.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he said as he stroked my hair.
“Everything!” I sobbed. “Jo’s dead!” As he held me, I told him what had happened.
“I’m so sorry, Maren,” he said. “I know you loved her like a sister.”