Chapter 3 Clara #2
When I had seen Wes at the Lantern, I was shocked at how handsome he still was. My brother’s friend had always turned heads, but there was something about him now that had changed. His blond hair had darkened over time, but his eyes were the same icy blue.
The change in him was more than his accident.
There was a broodiness to him that hadn’t been there before—like a lost soul walking around in my brother’s best friend’s body.
I was intrigued and more than a little turned on by his grumpy demeanor.
Apparently my type was “emotionally unavailable with a tragic backstory.”
Fantastic.
“I have so many ideas I can barely keep up,” Elodie continued as we walked behind her. “Good thing I have Cal to keep me reined in.”
Beside me, Kit snorted. “Please. That man has never told you no once.”
Elodie blushed, and I assumed it was true. She turned to me. “How’s life with Mom and Dad?”
I rolled my eyes. “Stifling.”
“Aww, come on. They’re the best,” Kit said.
I shook my head. “Look, they’re great. I know that. But I’m not a kid anymore, and living at home feels like I’ve become the biggest loser in Star Harbor. It’s embarrassing.”
I could practically hear the whispers already. Poor Clara Darling. All that time in the city just to come home single, jobless, and sleeping under her high school stuff.
“Oh please,” Kit said, “you’re not the biggest loser. That’s still Peter Pilling.”
Elodie’s face twisted. “Peter from third grade? The one who dumped a container of chocolate milk down your back?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I still hate that kid.”
Whatever else was a disaster, at least my sisters were still exactly who they’d always been—one ready to fight anyone who hurt me, the other building empires out of old barns.
I wrapped my arms around my little sister. “God, you’ve not changed at all. I love you.” I turned toward Elodie. “Do you have time for a grand tour?”
Elodie nodded and she showed us everything in the barn and shared her and Cal’s plans to continue to expand the farm. Romance and excitement laced through her words, and I caught myself feeling oddly jealous.
Her life was falling into place, everything coming together for her, and I was just . . . stuck.
In high school, I’d always assumed I’d be the one to leave and come back with stories and success. Elodie had been the homebody. Somewhere along the way we’d swapped roles, and I hadn’t noticed until now.
Jobless, loveless, and living at home. One wrong move and I was this close to stealing Peter Pilling’s loser crown for sure.
“You’re going to start coming to the meetings, right?” Elodie asked, shaking me from my self-pity spiral.
“Meetings?” I asked.
Kit nodded. “The Keepers.”
I looked between my sisters in disbelief. “Please don’t tell me you guys bought into that.”
They both looked shocked at my dismissive tone. “Bought into what?” Kit asked, clearly offended. “Hanging with the Star Harbor Historical Society is my favorite night of the week.”
The Star Harbor Historical Society was a local women’s group that had been around since the late eighteen hundreds. Our entire town revolved around the Lady of the Dunes, part silly ghost story, part local legend. The women of the historical society were informally known as the Keepers.
I raised my palms. “I thought it was just a bunch of bored old ladies gossiping. Clearly I’ve missed something.”
Elodie shrugged. “That’s what happens when you don’t come home for over a year.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d stayed gone on purpose, because it was easier to play the part of “city success story” from a distance than let anyone see the cracks up close.
Still, her words stung and my back went straight. “Damn, El. Back off a little.”
Kit looped her arm in mine, trying to keep the peace. “So much has happened. While Elodie was building this place, they found an old trunk with letters from the Lady. You know how the legend said she was haunting the town because she was waiting for her shipwrecked lost love?”
I nodded. Growing up, everyone knew about the Lady.
Her story was a tragedy of lost love, and if you lived here long enough, you’d see her ghost with your own eyes.
As kids, we used to dare each other to go out to the dunes at night and call for her, half hoping she’d appear, half terrified she actually would.
The Lady had always been safely contained to spooky stories and barroom decorations.
The idea of her being real—of her writing letters—made the hair on my arms stand up.
Kit shook her head. “She wasn’t waiting for a sailor. Everything we know about the Lady is a lie. Her letters revealed that she was afraid. Hiding. Then Selene found a photograph of her, and someone had scratched X’s over her eyes.”
Our oldest sister, Selene, worked as an archivist and probably came across the photograph in her work. A chill ran up my spine. “That’s unsettling.”
There was something so violent about it—taking the time to scratch out someone’s eyes. Like whoever did it wanted to erase her but couldn’t quite manage it.
Kit moved in closer, as though she didn’t want anyone—especially a ghost—to overhear. “The weirdest part . . . there was a man in the corner of the photograph, and I swear to you, he looks exactly like Hayes.”
I reared back in disbelief. “What?”
Elodie and Kit nodded in unison. “Fucking weird, right?” Kit asked.
I don’t know why, but my throat went dry and I tried to swallow.
Everyone in Star Harbor knew of my brother’s curse.
I’d never wanted to believe it, but it was hard to deny that the man had the worst luck of anyone I’d ever met.
The fact that there was some old-ass photograph with his face on it made the entire situation extra creepy.
And intriguing.
A tiny, reckless part of me wondered whether maybe the Darling family hadn’t been telling itself ghost stories all these years, but warnings.
“Fine.” I blew out a breath. “I’ll go to one meeting, but if it’s boring, you’re buying drinks after.”
Kit’s grin bloomed. “Deal.”