Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Alight drizzle has started back again by the time we make it to Watchmere Light. Caleb parks the truck as close to the front door as he can, and I grab as many of the bags and trash from our meal as I can befoe Caleb removes half of it and takes it himself.
“I am perfectly capable of carrying things inside.”
“Yeah, but why should you if I’m here to do it?” he says.
Gunner laughs at that, manages to slip the handles of the bags with the dog treats through his mouth, then jumps out carrying his bag, his black shaggy tail wagging furiously the whole while.
Caleb pushes the door open after unlocking it, and I set the bags down on the beaten-up wooden table in the center of the lighthouse, Caleb setting the groceries in the kitchen and putting them away.
“Was that everything?” I say.
“I didn’t grab your garment bag. Didn’t have hands for that. But it can stay in the truck.”
“Oh, it’s not staying in the truck,” I tell him. “If you bought me a whole bunch of stuff and you want me to try them on, I’m going to need that.”
“Well, give me a second and I’ll go get it.”
“I have legs,” I tell him. “I’ll get it myself. Think you can put the groceries away better than I can anyway.”
He laughs at that. “Fine. Be stubborn,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll wear you down soon enough.”
“We’ll see,” I say, throwing my hands up in the air with a laugh.
Then I trudge back out into the drizzle to grab the garment bag.
I open up the driver’s side door, reaching around Caleb’s seat to grab it, and the minute my fingers touch the hangers my stomach lurches and the world turns upside down as a vision hits me.
A huge black bird coasting over glassy water.
Its shadow dark in the ocean.
A circle of power.
My sisters staring at me, eyes glowing.
A lantern in the middle of the circle.
Glass exploding outward, stinging my hands and face.
A snake coiled and ready to strike.
Then all I see is blackness.
Cold water drips on my face, and I realize I’ve fallen in the driveway, the bag crumpled on the ground next to me.
“Ivy!” Caleb calls out.
I try to shake myself out of the vision, but I can’t. It was too strong. I have no idea what it meant.
“Ivy, what happened?” Somehow, Caleb‘s kneeling at my side and scooping me up.
“The clothes,” I say.
“The clothes?” Caleb repeats. “Who fucking cares? Are you hurt? Did you pass out?”
Gunner runs out beside him, grabs the garment bag, and drags it back inside.
I watch slowly, as if the entire thing is unfolding on TV instead of in front of my eyes.
“Just a vision,” I tell Caleb. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay. You’re shaking like a leaf,” he says. “Let’s get you inside.”
“No, I can walk.”
“You’re not walking,” Caleb tells me, and there’s a firmness to his voice I haven’t heard before.
I stop arguing. I lace my arms around his neck and lean into his warmth and his strength and let him carry me.
He doesn’t set me down on the couch like I expected, though. He takes me straight upstairs to the bathroom.
There’s an old clawfoot tub that I looked at longingly just this morning before deciding a shower would be faster. But Caleb sits me down and gently, fully clothed, starts running the hot water.
“Want all my clothes to get wet?” I tell him.
“Put up your arms,” he says.
He undresses me clinically. There’s nothing sexual about it, just a man who is worried about me and wants me to be comfortable and safe.
“What you see?” he says as the bath fills up. He pulls my shoes off and my socks and waits for me to answer.
He doesn’t push me, and I appreciate that.
My voice sounds hollow and scared even to my own ears.
“A huge bird. I can’t remember what it’s called. The seabirds. The big ones. They mean bad things,” I say. The words are hard to make.
The visions always wear me out, and this one was especially vivid.
“And there was a snake,” I tell him, trying to remember. “We were in the circle, my sisters and I. Something happened. I don’t know. Glass flew everywhere. Shattered. There was something in the glass.”
I shake my head.
“I don’t know. It’s always like this.”
He takes off my shirt and my underwear.
The tub is filling up faster than I would’ve given it credit for, and Caleb pulls out a clean washcloth from under the sink and soaks it.
“Move forward,” he tells me.
I pull my knees to my chest, trying to come to terms with what just happened.
“Cold,” I tell him.
“I know, honey. Get warm,” he says. “I can bring you another hot toddy if you want. Whiskey and tea.”
“Stay with me,” I say.
I rest my cheek on my knees, and Caleb scrubs my back for me, taking his time, gently scrubbing each arm. I feel safe.
The vision unnerved me. They always do.
“Is it always like that? The visions, I mean?” Caleb’s voice is laced with concern, and it soothes me. It makes me feel warm all over, more than any bath could.
“They can be pretty bad,” I tell Caleb. “This is the kind of stuff you’re in for if you really want to be with me.” I splash the surface of the water gently, anxiety pent up with nowhere to go.
Caleb stops scrubbing my arm, lowers to gently drag a hand across it, and stares at me over the side of the tub.
“I want to be with you, Ivy. I didn’t like seeing you like that, but if anything that’s all the more reason you should keep me around. Someone has to take care of you, and I want that person to be me.”
A single tear drops down my cheek, something I didn’t expect at all.
“Don’t cry,” he tells me softly. “It’s okay to want that too. Doesn’t mean you’re weak. Makes you a lot stronger, actually.”
“Tired,” I tell him. My voice sounds weak.
“You want to wash your hair?” he says.
“I’m too tired to—”
He reaches for a water cup I left on the counter this morning when we were getting ready. He dumps out the extra into the sink, and I watch him wordlessly as he fills it up with hot water and carefully pours it over my head, scrubbing gently.
“All I have is the 2-in-1 shampoo you hate,” he tells me.
I manage a laugh. “I snuck in some good stuff when you weren’t looking at the general store.”
He gives me a bright smile.
“Want me to go get it, or you want me to stay here?”
“You can go get it. And I’ll take that hot toddy too.”
“All right. But don’t clean the fun bits without me,” he says.
That makes me laugh, and even more of the trepidation and doom and gloom of the vision leaks away with the sound.
I take my time scrubbing, thinking while he’s gone.
I enjoy the quiet, even though I do awfully miss him already.
The sound of him pitter-pattering around in the kitchen is comforting, and I like that I can hear it over the noise of the water running in the tub.
It feels almost normal.
Completely opposite of the vision that just had me laid out in the driveway.
“Albatross,” I say out loud.
That’s the bird.
There’s a shiver even though the water’s hot enough that it’s nearly uncomfortable.
“Albatross. Bursting glass. Snake.” The words echo weirdly around the bathroom.
I shake my head. I don’t know what it means, but I don’t like it.
Caleb knocks before entering. I’m half submerged up to my chin now, and the hot water’s doing its job soothing all my aching muscles and slowing my still too-fast heart rate.
“Did you say something?” Caleb asks.
I glance over. He’s got the hot toddy in one hand and the bottles of shampoo and conditioner threaded between the fingers of his other hand.
“Yeah, I said something,” I tell him.
Water sloshes as I sit up more, my wet hair sticking to my shoulders and neck. I hold out my hand, and he gives me the hot toddy. I sip it, and he surprises me by squirting the rosemary shampoo in my hair and starting to scrub gently while I drink.
“You want to tell me what it is you said?” he asks.
It’s gentle, no pressure, and I nod as he works through my hair.
“I think something’s going to go wrong at the ritual,” I say.
“Was that what it was?” he asks.
I like that he doesn’t second-guess me or try to interpret the vision himself.
“I don’t know. The glass bursting — I think that’s where we were. I think it was the four of us at the ritual. I think the bird and the snake have something to do with it too.”
I shake my head and take another sip of the whiskey-laced drink, letting it burn down my throat all the way into my belly.
“I have a bad feeling about it.”
“I believe in you, Ivy,” Caleb says. “Between you and your stubborn sisters, if it can be done, you four will do it. For what it’s worth, I think your grandmother was right.”
“About?”
“If you did it when you were kids, you can do it again now that you’re grown up.”
I don’t answer him because I don’t want to argue, and for all I know he might be right.
But the vision didn’t leave me feeling like things are going to be okay.
It left me feeling like things are going to be very not okay.
The last thing I want is for Caleb to look at me like… that. Like I’m something to be scared of, something less than.
I don’t say that to him, though.
I drink the hot toddy and let myself relax under his capable fingers, and I try to remember the last time I let anyone take care of me like this.
“Thank you,” I tell him as he washes the shampoo out and works the herbal-scented conditioner into my hair.
“Ivy, I’d happily do this every day for the rest of my life,” he tells me. “But you’re welcome.”
“It should scare me,” I tell him, staring into the hot toddy like there are tea leaves in it for me to read. Not that I know how to read them anyway.
“What, the type of conditioner you bought? Afraid you’re going to get hooked on the fancy stuff?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
He’s quiet for a few minutes, the only sound the gentle strokes of the conditioner through my hair and his strong hands.
“You and me,” I say finally. “I should be scared of this.”
“Am I going too fast?” he asks. “You don’t normally let your dates wash your hair on the second night?”
I seriously consider dousing him with water but settle for turning around and giving him the dirtiest look I can muster.
“Are you being serious right now?” I ask him.
“No,” he says. “Just wanted to see that look on your face.”
I roll my eyes, push his hands away, and submerge my hair to wash it out myself.
Finally, I pull the plug on the tub.
“You’re done?” he asks, sounding vaguely disappointed.
“If I don’t get out now, I’m afraid you’ll never let me out. Hair takes forever to dry, and I’m cold.”
He runs his hand through his own hair, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “I knew I should’ve put that hair dryer thing in the cart.”
I cough to cover my laugh as I step out of the tub, reaching for the towel.
But he doesn’t give it to me, nope. He just stares.
Right. Because I’m totally naked.
Rolling my eyes, I put my hands on my hips, give him a long look, and hold out my hand for the towel.
I expect him to laugh.
He doesn’t. His pupils dilate, and the next thing I know his arms wrap around me, wet hair and all.