The Spider Catcher (Redemption by A.L. Tyler Book 1) (7 page)

Chapter 4

Ember frowned. “What?”

With a small smile, Acton took her by the arm, and nodded at Mrs. Cassington. “If you’ll excuse us, Dani.”

Danielle Cassington wadded up the towel she had been using to dust the shelves, and tossed it onto the countertop, muttering to herself as she slipped into the back room. “Fine with me. I don’t want my name mentioned, I don’t want any part…”

“Dani?
” Ember said in a hushed laugh as Acton took her by the arm and led her down an aisle. “My family
owns
the island? Like
owns it
owns it?”

“Your mother owns the island.” Acton said as he lightly pushed her toward a chair. “And you either dress very poorly for an heiress, or she never intends for you to have any of it.”

Ember felt her jaw hanging open as she contemplated what he had said, but she didn’t have a response.

“She never told you.” Acton said impatiently.

“No.” Ember finally mustered. “She didn’t.”

Acton lowered himself to her eye level, smiling lightly. “That makes you angry.”

Ember tried to meet his gaze, but she was suddenly having trouble keeping her lips from trembling. Her mother said that she had moved to the middle of nowhere to get away from people, but she had obviously lied. If it was her island, then she was letting everyone else, all the people she claimed to hate, live here with her. Even as much as she hated all of them, she couldn't stand Ember.

Suddenly, it all made sense.  Ember had always wondered where the money for her schooling and board came from, and it must have been from Tulukaruk. There would be taxes, or rent, or something; she had tried when she was younger to make the money run out on new clothes and books and fieldtrips, but the nun never said 'no'. There was always more money, and Gina had used every cent necessary to keep Ember away.

Sitting stark still and unable to speak, Ember felt the shaking in her arms first; then her stomach went to jelly, and she felt like she was going to throw up. Acton stepped away from her with a slightly disgusted look on his face.

"What is it now?" He asked.

The bookstore was spinning; Ember had never fainted before, but she was suddenly very glad that she was sitting down.

"She doesn't want me." She whispered as the lights flashed too bright and then burst into darkness. "She just...doesn't want me."

When Ember came to, all she could see was boxes and rafters. She furrowed her brow as she started to sit up; a hand landed on her chest.

Her eyes wandered up to find Acton’s face. He was sitting next to her, holding a paperback open in his other hand. “Where am I?”

“My mother’s bar.” Acton said, flipping another page. “Would you like a drink?”

Ember allowed her body to collapse back onto the floor. She raised her hand to her forehead, and then sat bolt upright. Her head snapped to look at Acton so quickly that she pulled a muscle. “What time is it?”

“After dark.” He said lightly. “I don’t think you care much, beyond that.”

Ember cringed; the doors were locked. If she wanted to go home, she was going to have to beg, and even then it was doubtful that anyone would let her in after the evening’s exchanges.

“They’ll let you in.” Acton said, his eyes never moving from the page. “Gina may hate you, but she’s not a monster. She would give a bed to any poor soul who came knocking.”

Shaking her head, Ember pulled her legs under her body to sit. “That’s just it, isn’t it? I’m not their family. I’m just…just…”

“A stranger.” Acton finished, turning another page.

Ember nodded at him; he still hadn’t looked at her, and she wondered if he was only still there because it was the right thing to do. Abandoning a girl who had passed out wasn’t something one could do and still feel right with oneself.

She stared at the floor, listening to the steady sliding of each page against the next.

“I should go.” She said finally, getting to her feet.

With a small sigh and a sardonic smile, Acton set his book on the box next to him. “Go where? You don’t have a home. You don’t have a family, or anywhere to
go
to.”

Ember looked around, and then clasped her hands in front of her; she forced them to her side when she had the unsettling thought that the only hand she had to hold any more was her own. She had to be strong now.

“I’ll leave the island.” She said bravely.

Acton’s smile only broadened. “And then?”

“I’ll finish school, and get a job, and an apartment.”

“And a cat?” Acton mocked. “Jesus, Ember, people are only people because of their stories. Families, and histories. You don’t want any of that?”

She held her hands out in the air, unsure what he wanted her to say. “I don’t
have
any of that.”

“But you want it.”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“Of course they do.” Acton said, getting to his feet. “So why are you so willing to give up on it?”

“They don’t want me here.” Ember said with another shrug. “And she apparently owns the island, and she doesn’t want people around that she doesn’t like so…” Ember paused, and then looked up at Acton. “Wait. She hates you. Why do you get to live here?”

Acton leaned back against a wall, flicking open the lid on a box to pull out two green bottles. He twisted the cap off of one and handed it to Ember, and then gave a shrug. “First and foremost, hate is a strong word, and I don’t suppose your mother hates me more than anyone else who lives here. She definitely hates you more than she hates me.” He kicked some boxes around on the floor to create a space for them to sit, and then gestured Ember down onto a box. “Second, she does not now, and nor has she ever, owned the entire island. The Knoxes have been here longer, we own our plot, and we are joint owners of a lot of Main.”

Ember sniffed at the neck of the bottle.

“It’s beer.” Acton said with a frown. “Drink it. It will make your life easier.”

Ember eyed him with a flicker of anger, but took a gulp anyways.

Acton leaned back on his box, letting his body fill the space as he rested his head against the wall. “However, I suppose your mother could evict us, or worse, if she chose to. But she won’t, because she needs us.”

“Well.” Ember said bitterly. “That’s arrogant of you.”

“You’re a mean drunk.”

“I’m not drunk yet.”

Acton only raised his eyebrows. “As much as she may hate me, my mother, or my brothers, the Knoxes run this town. We’re a necessary evil to your mother. So as long as we keep everyone in line, we get to stay. And as long as we stay, no one bothers Gina Gillespie in the little commune she’s made for her precious family.”

Ember sneered. “Yeah, precious. I feel
so
precious.”

“Precious is overrated.” Acton replied.

“So then what are you proposing?” She grunted.

He leaned forward again, and offered Ember the bottle he had in his hands. She looked down in confusion, and realized her own bottle was already empty; she didn’t feel drunk, but pushed the new bottled away in dismay.

“I propose that you embrace being the reject.” Acton explained slowly. “Come be a Knox for a while. I can assure you a good time, and in return, you’ll have a family here.”

“A family?” Ember said, incredulous. “The Knox family?”

Acton shrugged and nodded.

“And I would have to do what?” She blinked; the world was tilting. The alcohol was starting to take hold.

“Tolerate my ungainly appearance and company.” Acton said with a laugh. “I will arrange some outings, which you will attend and participate in. I will deliver you back to the Gillespie household, safely and with escort, every evening. Your participation is entirely voluntary, and you may decline any invitation you wish.”

Ember leaned against the stack of boxes next to her, trying to unfold all of the sentences as the alcohol made each one slip from her grasp. “I should go home.”

“So you’ll go with it?”

“Go with what?” She half-whined, laughing and shaking her head. “It sounds like dating. I don’t understand what you’re getting out of it…”

“It’s just a wish of mine, Ember. Like a birthday wish—I can’t tell you, or it might not come true. Will you help me get my wish, if I help you get your family?” Acton smiled genially. He reached out to take her hands, and slowly helped her to her feet. “You and I, we’re not worthy. It would pain your mother to think that the two of us were together, because it would be a threat to her tiny kingdom. It would mean that the two of us might stand to take it all away from her, and her precious Thalia, because she wants Thalia to have it all. You deserve your half.”

“My half?” Ember laughed as she stumbled in his arms towards the door. Acton grabbed the book on their way out, shoving it deep into one of his pockets. “Why should I do this?”

The rain outside had slowed to a cold drizzle; the mist was so fine that it seemed to sneak right through her clothes to land on the skin beneath.

“God damn—why is always wet here?” Ember spat. “Maybe I don’t want half of this. Why should I help you hurt my family?”

Acton turned her, holding her up by her shoulders as she swayed on her feet.

“You’ll help me because they aren’t your family.” He said earnestly. “I’m your friend now, and the Knoxes are your family. We want you, and you don’t know for a fact that anyone else ever will. The Gillespies won’t. You’ll help us because we are your family now, and because that’s what family does.”

Chapter 5

The trip home was a mess; despite Acton’s best efforts, Ember managed to slip and fall twice, covering herself in mud. At least the cold and the damp had sobered her enough to stand on the stoop, alone, when they arrived back at the house.

The misting rain was collecting on the leaves, eaves, and pines, and every so often a drip would drop with a
splat
to the forest floor. It made Ember wince and glance around her; even though she knew it was only rain, the sound was unnerving. It was like a hundred tiny fairies, snapping twigs and crunching leaves as they surrounded her in the dark. With the clouds blocking all the stars and the moon, the only light was cast from the one dim bulb above the door, and it only served to make Ember feel like she was under the interrogation lamp of the universe.

She only had to knock twice. When the door swung open, it was Gina standing on the other side.

“You’re going to wake up your sister.” She said. Her eyes had narrowed in annoyance, and her voice was stern. “You smell like beer.”

Ember shrugged and nodded.

“Thalia told you to be home by dark.”

Still standing in the rain, Ember once again nodded.

Gina looked her over, pausing on her wide, tired eyes. “You broke the rules. Good night, Ember.”

And she started to close the door. With a yelp, Ember lurched forward, shoving her body in the disappearing gap. She felt the heat from the house as it flowed past her and into the night.

“I’m sorry!” She squeaked; Gina hadn’t stepped back when Ember had forced her way between the door and the frame, and their faces were close. Ember could see the twitch in her mother’s left eye. “I meant to be back on time, but I ran into someone, and we were talking, and—“

Gina lowered her gaze. “Who?”

Ember paused, trying to figure if she should lie. Gina was waiting.

“Acton Knox.” Ember licked her lips and said a silent prayer.

Gina stared into Ember’s eyes, and blinked away a distant look into outright hostility as she stepped away from the door. “Get in this house. Stay away from Acton—you’re trouble, and he has enough of it on his own. I don’t want that kind of mess on my hands.”

As Gina held out her hand, pointing toward the stairs, Ember stood and peered through the door, looking for the trap. Like a shy animal, she eventually edged over the threshold, and bolted for escape up the stairs.

“Ember!”

She froze. She could feel Gina’s eyes boring into her back.

“Don’t knock on this door after dark again. Thalia needs her sleep, and it gives her nightmares.”

Ember sighed, turning around. “You can’t stop me from going out.”

Gina crossed her arms; the same distant look she’d had before was on her face. Her jaw hung slack for a moment, but then she pursed her lips and looked down at the floor.

Ember turned back to go up the stairs. She took three more steps.

“I’ll get you a key.” Gina finally said in a high whisper. “But you have to promise to use it. Don’t knock. I don’t want you going out after dark, but if you’re going to do it, you’re going to use that key to come back in every night.  I want you to have a way to get inside this house, when you want to.”

Without turning or looking, Ember nodded. She went up and put her muddy clothes in the bathtub, and went to bed.

When the key appeared on her nightstand the next morning, she couldn’t bring herself to touch it.

Small and bronze, it sat there on the nightstand; Gina had attached it to a length of string, wound into a ball and laid neatly along the side. Ember stared at it as though it were a coiled snake about to strike.

In the morning chill, she looked around her room. It was darker than it should have been on account of the taped up window, but there was still enough light to see without flipping a switch. It was a small room, and Ember was nearly sure it wasn’t the one she had been in when she was a child; the memories were hazy, but she thought that she had shared a room with Thalia, and there surely wasn’t enough space in this room for two beds.

Ember pressed her eyes shut and concentrated. She could remember the nighttime routine—dinner was eaten, the table cleared, the dishes done, and then there was family time in the den. Nan would sit with the paper, and Ember would either read it over her shoulder or sit in the corner with a book. Gina would run a brush through Thalia’s hair, and then the two would sew clothing or plant potted seeds that would grow in the south-facing kitchen window until spring, when they were transplanted to the garden.

When it was time for bed, they went upstairs and brushed their teeth. They changed into their pajamas, Gina read them a story, and then tucked them in to bed, and sang them songs until they feel asleep.

Ember opened her eyes; she could remember the smell of Thalia’s hair as they laid in bed. She always slept with it in a braid, and it looked so much like a fancy braid that Ember often found it hard to keep from touching or smelling it. They had shared a bed when they were little.

Now, Thalia could hardly stand to be around her.

Ember looked back at the key on her nightstand, and her clothes strewn about the floor, and suddenly didn’t want it. It made her feel like she was falling into the sky, as through gravity had shut off.  The key meant that she had no anchor anymore. She could leave when she wanted, and return when she wanted, if she wanted, because Gina wasn’t looking out for her anymore.

Refusing to touch the key, Ember slipped out of the bed, holding her comforter around her like a poorly-fitting winter jacket to keep the morning chill off of her skin. She picked up some clothes from the floor and went to the bathroom to shower, turning the water so hot that it made her skin pink and painful to touch.  After too much hot, the cold felt good. It made it easier to change clothes.

With her hair still wet, she walked downstairs to breakfast. Thalia and Nan had been laughing about something, but Thalia’s smile vanished when she saw Ember standing at the end of the table.

“I told you to get home before dark,” she said.

“I know.” Ember paused. “I’m sorry.”

Thalia stared at her a moment longer, and then went back to eating her oatmeal. Nan was giving them both suspicious looks.  The frown marks made deep trenches in the wrinkly skin on her face, from the height of her brow to the tip of her chin. Ember leaned to peek into the kitchen, and was about to ask where Gina was, when she spotted something outside the kitchen window.

“Is the back yard on fire?” She asked, squinting.

Thalia turned to look, and then shrugged. “Mom had some stuff to burn.”

“Stuff?” Ember asked, looking her sister in the eye.

Thalia shrugged again as she chewed on her oatmeal for a little too long. When she finally swallowed and opened her mouth, Nan cut her off.

“Old boxes from the shipments.” The ancient woman grunted, sending a small streamer of spittle to settle on her chin. A tiny half-bit of oatmeal sat right at the end of it, like an exclamation point. “She burns them—the boxes and the crates. We’ve got nowhere to put them, and they pile up in the side yard, and then the damn spiders start nesting in them.”

Ember tried not to stare as Nan wiped off her chin with the back of her wrist. “Some people think spiders are good luck,” she mumbled absently. “They say a spider hid the Christ child from Herod when he was born.”

Nan leveled her glare on the girl, and Ember suddenly felt three feet shorter. Nan had picked up a butter knife to point as she spoke. “You’re a Christian, girl?”

Ember looked from the knife in her grandmother’s hands to her accusing eyes, and felt the air escape her lungs like it had been sucked out into the vacuum of space. She turned to Thalia.

“We’re a Christian household.” Thalia offered. The way she said it was almost robotic.  “Yes!” Ember gushed in relief. “Yes, I’m a Christian.”

Nan contemplated for a moment; her eyes danced around Ember’s face as she pressed the flat of the knife to her lips. Slowly she set it back down on the table. “You’re a liar. Real Christians don’t need permission or prompting. Damn Christians go around telling damn well everyone what they think and who’s right and who’s wrong……”

Nan hoisted herself up from her chair, and grumbled herself into the kitchen to put her dish up in the sink. Ember looked back at Thalia.

“She’s more devout some days than others.” Thalia said quietly, looking at the table.

“The problem,” Nan continued, walking back out into the dining room, “With Christians, is the same as the problem with spiders. You’re going along fine in your life, and then, bam! They drop off the ceiling and scare the crap out of you, you’re swatting them with newspapers to make them go away, and the lucky ones escape out the door. A perfect afternoon of reading is ruined, and your coffee’s all over the damn floor…”

Ember waited until the older woman had ambled up the stairs before turning back to Thalia.

“She doesn’t really think that Christians drop from the ceiling.” Thalia said seriously.

“Are you sure?” Ember asked, raising her eyebrows.

They had just started to smile—both of them, together, for the first time in Ember’s memory—when the back door slammed open.

“Yow!” Gina yelled, grabbing at the door handle as another gust of wind threatened to bounce it off the wall. She kept talking as she turned to shut the door and lock it behind her. “It’s a cold one today, I’m going to have to talk to—“

When their eyes met, Ember felt the fun sweep from the room, like it had gone with the wind out the door. Gina’s eyes glistened momentarily, and then she looked at the floor as she walked into the kitchen.

Ember looked back to Thalia, whose lips had sunken to a sullen frown. “Excuse me,” she whispered, standing and moving toward the stairs.

Gina rinsed off the dishes in the sink, and shut the water off, wringing her hands on the rag that rested over the sink divider. Taking a deep breath, she turned and stared Ember straight in the eye as she walked over to fetch Thalia’s plate and fork. With the plate in hand, she paused, her nostrils flaring slightly, and then turned to go back to the sink.

“Are you going to yell at me?” Ember finally asked.

“It wouldn’t make a difference.” Gina responded levelly. “You’ve got your key. Take it, use it, and enjoy your vacation. You’ve got school again in the fall.”

“I don’t want the key.” Ember said, taking a few steps toward her.

Gina took a few steps back. “And I don’t want you, Ember.”

They both froze. Gina slowly brought her hand to rest on her stomach, and then stood up straight. “It’s neither of our faults. I’m a mother, and I know what that feels like. I feel it with Thalia, and I’ve never felt it for you.”

With the morning sun angling through the window, making both of their faces bright and without shadows, Ember felt exposed. It was like they were standing there, staring at x-rays of each other’s souls.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. What I never had the words for.” Gina continued slowly. “You can’t be my daughter any more than I can be your mother. I wish you no ill, and I hope you have a happy life. But you are not my daughter, and you’ll have to leave. You’ll have to leave the key when you leave, too.”

Ember nodded, and looked at the floor.

“What is it?” Gina demanded.

Feeling much smaller than she was, Ember looked back up, and shrugged. “I won’t have a mother, or a sister. I won’t have a family.”

Gina turned back to the sink, and flicked the knob to turn the water back on, picking up the brush to wipe down Thalia’s breakfast plate. “If you want a family, then be a good person. Finish school, get a job, and live a normal life. You’ll find someone. You’ll have some kids. That’s your family.”

Ember shook her head. “But, I won’t have a legacy. I won’t have a history, or a past—“

“The past doesn’t matter!” Gina snapped, making Ember jump. “You have a future. That’s all that matters. Go and live your life, Ember. That’s what I gave to you, and what I can give to you now: your life.” She paused, gripping the sink as she stared at the bits of oatmeal and toast clinging around the lip of the disposal. “Take it, and go, and be happy. Then we’ll both be happy. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

Ember had shut her eyes; her jaw was throbbing. When she realized she was clenching her teeth, she opened her mouth and forced herself to exhale.  When she opened her eyes, she saw that Gina was watching her.

“You own the island.” Ember said, surprised at the vehemence in her voice.

Gina turned her back to the sink, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the counter. “That’s what you want? The land? The money?”

Ember continued to glare at her.

“You can have the money.” Gina said, almost too calm. “But the island belongs to Thalia. That’s…already done. It’s legal, and it can’t be changed. But if it’s what you want, I will make it right in my will—take the money and buy your own island.”

“I don’t
want
my own island!” Ember said through gritted teeth. She felt her shoulders begin to shake as Gina rolled her eyes and licked her lips, crossing her arms as she looked to the floor. Ember’s eyes, meanwhile, were darting around the kitchen, but she didn’t know what she was looking for.