Chapter 23
Briar
Alice was gone when Briar woke up, and she wasn’t in their cabin when Briar returned from breakfast, either. Just as she was about to go find her, the phone rang.
‘Hello, Briar speaking,’ she said.
‘Oh, Ms. Elwood,’ came a British voice from the other end. Dread immediately set in. ‘I’ve been trying to reach you.’
‘Mr. Lavish, how are you?’ Briar said, injecting false cheer into her tone.
Mr. Lavish was the lawyer who’d been handling her mom’s estate. Briar had been dodging his calls since he’d met with the appraiser the week before.
‘I’m well, dear,’ Mr. Lavish said. ‘I’ve found you a buyer.’
Briar blanched. ‘Really?’
She’d convinced herself there was no harm in going through the motions of selling the camp: appraising it, consulting Mr. Lavish and discussing it with her family. But at no point had she considered that there would be a buyer so soon. Her mother hadn’t even been in the grave for two months.
Mr. Lavish pressed on, oblivious to Briar’s spiral. ‘He’s a local businessman from Virginia. He saw the photos and he’s excited to use the land for his hunting parties. Says he’s willing to offer five per cent over asking.’
‘Hunting parties.’ Briar’s voice was an octave higher than usual. She glanced around the hallway, trying to imagine what it would look like with taxidermized deer heads hanging from the walls. ‘Wow.’
‘He wants to see the property. Is there a time that works best for you?’
‘Um,’ Briar said, trying not to think about the rabbits currently making a home in the stump outside being strung up for sport. ‘The session ends August first.’
‘Perfect,’ Mr. Lavish said. ‘I’ll send the details. Sorry, I’ve got to run. We’ll talk soon.’
Briar listened to the dial tone for a moment before taking a breath and dialing a new number.
‘Bri?’ Laurel’s tone was bright on the other end of the line. ‘How are you? Haze, come here.’
‘We’re in Bath!’ Hazel announced.
‘I’ve had some news,’ Briar said, not able to soften the blow. There was a long pause, and Briar knew the twins were exchanging a look, silently conversing in a way that had always made her jealous. ‘There’s a buyer.’
‘Oh,’ Hazel said. Briar wished she could see them, cursing the landline for being her sole connection to her family. She wanted nothing more than to be with them right now. ‘I mean, Dad said there might be, but I thought it’d fall through.’
‘Well, it didn’t.’ She sighed, pinching her nose and gritting her teeth through the next sentence: ‘I think I’m gonna do it. Sell it—’
‘No, don’t! We’ll move back,’ Laurel cut in.
‘Yeah, we can run the camp together,’ Hazel said.
Briar shook her head. ‘Absolutely not. What about making the next big video game? You guys have careers ahead of you, you can’t give that up.’
Briar felt close to tears. Telling the twins was always going to be the hardest part. She’d raised them when her mother had been too busy, and then too sick, to do it herself. But her fear of disappointing them was far outweighed by her fear of not providing for them.
‘You dropped out to take care of mom,’ Laurel said. ‘Why can’t we do this?’
‘Because I said so,’ Briar snapped, then immediately felt awful.
She never yelled at her siblings. But they didn’t know what they’d be agreeing to give up.
Briar had no direction, no plan. For the last six years, she’d been barely a person.
Her entire life had been on hold, waiting for her mother to recover, then worrying she’d get sick again.
And now she was dead, and Briar had nothing.
She let out a breath slowly. ‘Did you finish your exams yet?’ There was another long pause, and Briar sighed. ‘Is Dad there?’
‘Yeah,’ Hazel said.
‘Put him on.’
Briar listened to the twins locate him and press the phone into his hands.
‘Briar! How are you, my dear?’ His voice boomed.
Her mess of feelings crystallized into anger at him, for not being there when her mom had gotten sick, for not taking care of his children when Briar had struggled for years, for swooping in when it was far too late and taking the twins from her.
Part of her wished he’d taken her too, that she could feel like a child with a parent looking out for her.
‘You can’t keep jetting the twins all over England like they’re on some grand tour,’ she hissed. ‘They need to finish their schoolwork. They need to re-enter the real world. And eventually, they need to realize that their mother is dead.’
Briar found it difficult to swallow.
‘Trust me,’ her father’s tone was clipped, ‘they are very aware she’s dead. I’ve got it all sorted.’
That was the final blow for Briar. She hung up and stalked to her bedroom, falling into unmade sheets, grasping a pillow and pulling it tight against her torso. She screamed into it.
It was dark when Alice found her there.
‘Wassup,’ Briar croaked. Alice’s figure was haloed by the glow of the hallway light, and she couldn’t make out her expression.
‘You missed dinner.’ Alice flicked on the bedside lamp, and Briar saw that she was holding a plate of pizza. Her stomach rumbled. ‘Are you alright? You slept for a long time.’
Briar grabbed the plate from her. ‘Just tired,’ she said between bites. ‘And my dad is a dick.’
Alice nodded as if those two thoughts made sense together. ‘I’m sorry.’
Briar finished inhaling her first slice, and she finally had enough energy to process the time. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss? I can—’
Alice held up a hand. ‘It’s all good, everything’s done. I’m quite capable, I’ll have you know.’
‘Oh, I know,’ Briar said. She wanted to kiss her, but something inside her felt too raw, like if she kissed Alice now, she’d be confessing something she wasn’t ready to admit.
‘You should come outside,’ Alice said, standing. ‘It rained earlier, so it’s cooler.’
Briar nodded slowly, staring at the remaining slice of pizza. Alice grabbed the plate. ‘This will be waiting for you.’
Briar dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She splashed some water on her face, letting it wake her. Her hair was a complete mess, and she teased the knots out with her fingers to make it presentable.
When she pulled the shower curtain open, she screamed.
‘What?!’ came Alice’s voice as she raced into the bathroom.
‘Kill it! Kill it!’ Briar shouted, balancing precariously on the toilet seat.
Alice looked around. ‘Kill what?’ she asked frantically.
‘Spider,’ Briar said, pointing. ‘Oh my god, Ally, kill that motherfucker right fucking now!’
Alice paused and laughed, kneeling and sticking her hand into the shower.
‘Don’t!’ Briar’s voice was high and shrill. ‘Don’t touch it.’
‘Bri…’ Alice had the audacity to sound stern. She straightened, a daddy longlegs crawling across her index finger. ‘It’s harmless.’
‘It’s evil,’ Briar muttered. Alice walked out of the bathroom, the hand carrying the insect cradled against her torso.
‘It’s not even a real spider,’ Alice explained. ‘No venom, no pincers. It’s more afraid of you than you are of it.’
‘I seriously doubt that.’ Briar held the screen door open for Alice, then watched as she descended the porch steps. Alice put her hand against one of the nearby trees and waited patiently for the daddy longlegs to crawl off.
‘You were very brave,’ she teased. Briar rolled her eyes and took a bite of pizza to avoid having to respond.
They settled on the porch swing, listening to the water drip off the leaves above them and onto the cabin’s tin roof.
There was a cool breeze blowing, tickling the hairs on the back of Briar’s neck.
The sun was down, and the receding light was a deep purple, casting everything in shadow.
‘I’m going to miss this.’ Briar sighed, surprised to hear the words come from her own mouth. Not because they were untrue, but because she’d sworn not to talk to Alice about any feelings concerning their arrangement.
Alice didn’t react at all, just stroking along Briar’s spine. A faint hum was the only confirmation that she’d even heard.
‘I’m not going to try to persuade you not to sell it,’ Alice said. Briar turned to look at her. Alice was gazing out at the forest, where fireflies were flitting around, glowing yellow-green. Leave it to Alice to be utterly oblivious to how Briar felt about her.
‘I’ve thought about keeping it,’ Briar admitted, trading one heartache for another. ‘I just can’t run this place. I’ll never be my mom.’ She felt tears prick at her eyes, and she scrubbed at them, frustrated that she still had tears to shed. ‘But letting it go also seems wrong.’
Alice slid closer, her hand drifting down to tuck Briar into her side. Briar let her head fall onto Alice’s shoulder. The tears kept coming, but for once she didn’t mind crying in front of someone else.
‘I just…’ she continued, ‘I don’t know why she made it my decision, as if I didn’t have enough to deal with.
She didn’t trust me enough to tell me her cancer came back, but sure, I’ll know what to do with her entire legacy.
’ She let out a humorless laugh. ‘It’s so typical of her: big ideas, leave the details to me. I’ll sort it out.’
‘It’s not fair,’ Alice murmured.
‘No, you know what’s not fair?’ She pulled away from Alice’s grip.
‘That she told you she was dying before she told me. You know what’s not fair?
Her cancer coming back after five fucking years and killing her in a matter of months.
You know what’s not fair?’ Briar choked on her breath, gritting her teeth against the grief threatening to overwhelm her, needing to voice the thought that had been haunting her all summer. ‘That I didn’t do more to save her.’
‘Oh,’ Alice said. Her eyes were wide and searching as she reached up to grip Briar’s cheeks in both hands. ‘There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.’
Briar’s lower lip trembled. Her throat was dry, a large lump making breathing difficult.
She wanted to close her eyes, to cut herself off from Alice’s gaze, but she couldn’t.
‘I just— I put my whole life on hold. I was right there. I was ready. And it didn’t matter.
In the end, she didn’t even tell me what was happening. ’
‘I know,’ Alice said, tucking Briar back into the crook of her shoulder and squeezing her arms around her tightly.
Briar wasn’t sure how long she cried, only that slowly she was able to focus on all the places she and Alice were pressed together, the soft touch of their knees, the heat of Alice’s skin under her cheek, Alice’s fingers digging into her waist. She felt calmer, her mind clearing.
The profound exhaustion that only came from a full-body cry threatened to overtake her. She raised her head, glancing at Alice and dreading any reaction from her. Briar couldn’t handle pity, or understanding, or grief. She had no more room for anyone else’s emotions.
Alice’s expression remained impassive, taking in Briar’s red, snotty appearance as if she were cataloguing changes in a petri dish.
She rose, guiding Briar back to their bedroom.
Alice stripped the tear-stained tank top over Briar’s head and replaced it with the ratty T-shirt Briar liked to sleep in.
She gently pushed Briar onto their bed before shuffling around the room, turning off lights and closing drawers.
Briar’s eyes slowly closed, comforted by the sound of Alice’s footsteps.
A warm, damp cloth was placed on her forehead, soothing the tension headache that was forming.
Alice swiped the towel along her face, and down the sides of her neck.
She scrubbed Briar’s left arm and then the right, the pressure of her fingertips releasing tension Briar didn’t even know she was holding.
Alice moved onto her legs, cleaning her thighs and around her knees, kneading at her calves in a way that made Briar groan softly.
Her moans turned to giggles as Alice reached her feet, dragging the washcloth between her toes before finally washing away the grime on the bottom of each foot.
She snuggled beside Briar, folding easily around her and drawing the top sheet over them.
Something important had shifted between them, but sleep claimed Briar before she could name it.