The Summer of Lost Wishes (18 page)

I, on the other hand, am worried that
someone may break into our house tonight since Mom isn’t home and
I’m at the party. Mr. Carter is home, and he promised to keep an
eye on things. Our security system is in place and working – Mom
accidentally set off the alarm at four o’clock the other morning –
but that’s still not the best reassurance.

I scan the room for the one person I know
won’t be here – Frank. I felt like the theme would’ve worked in his
favor. As much as he creeps me out, he deserves to be involved in
anything that’s in honor of his older brother. He has to feel left
out. His bitterness is warranted. I can’t imagine how he feels when
wakes up each day, knowing that he lost his family due to the
tragedy, and this town won’t let him forget and move forward.

“I feel like there’s a missing piece, and
we’re so close,” I tell Rooks, keeping my voice low so no one else
can hear us.

We step off to the side, in a corner of the
room away from everyone else. A table of cupcakes from Seaside
Sweets waits next to us, but no one seems to have a sweet tooth yet
tonight.

“If we could just see it, in real time, up
close, maybe we’d see something that no one else would,” I say,
even though I know I sound like a psycho as I’m saying the
words.

It’s like one of those out of body
experiences, where you’re watching yourself and hearing yourself
and you know better than to allow yourself to do this, but nothing
else makes sense.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?” Rooks
asks. He looks at me as if I just said I want to perform a séance
at Shark Island and resurrect the spirits of Seth and Hanna.

“I know, it’s crazy, and no one else saw
anything that made sense fifty years ago, but they didn’t have the
letters,” I remind him. “We have a knowledge that no one else ever
did.”

Hector clears his throat from behind us, and
I freeze in my tracks. I wonder how much of this conversation he
just heard, lurking around and hiding out in the shadows like a
true phantom. Now he’ll know that I’m just as crazy as Mayor Rhodes
when it comes to the tragedy. Great.

“You want to go to Shark Island?” he asks,
raising his phantom mask up over his forehead. “Because if you want
to, I’m up for it. I can take you guys out there. It beats the hell
out of this.”

I place my flamingo mask on Rooks’
dashboard. A light rainfall coats his windshield as we wait in the
parking lot near the beach. His truck is the only vehicle here,
which is a rarity. Even after dark, the beach is usually buzzing
with parties, volleyball games with light-up nets, and beachgoers
who just want a late night stroll. I’ve never been to the beach at
night, not even to see the whitecaps rolling in under a bright
moon, but I know from passing by that this place is never dead –
except tonight.

It’s surprising that so many people are
involved in the Town Hall celebration. I can’t imagine anyone other
than business owners and longtime residents really participating.
If you’re in the social scene around here, sure, but people my age?
Newbies to the area? I can’t imagine them cancelling their beach
night for it. Then again, maybe it’s the rain.

“I think it’s going to storm tonight,” Rooks
says, flipping his windshield wipers on to clear the glass. “I wish
Hector would hurry up already.”

He’d told us that he had to give Natalie an
excuse as to why he was bailing on the party. Then he had to go
home and load the boat. Rooks offered to meet him over there to
help, but Hector said he could handle it. We’ve been sitting here
for thirty minutes, and I can tell Rooks is getting antsy by the
way he keeps picking up his phoenix mask and analyzing it, putting
it back on the dashboard, and picking it up a few minutes
later.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and Rooks
eyes shift toward me. He reaches across the seat for my hand.

“You sure about this?” he asks, tilting his
chin down to really stare into me.

“Yes,” I say. I nod to reinforce this
idiotic decision. “I just need to see it. If nothing is out there,
then I’ll let them rest. I just need to know I tried.”

“Then we’ll go,” Rooks says. “For Seth, for
Rosa…for you.”

Headlights spiral around us as Hector’s
truck pulls into the parking lot. He backs down to the boating
ramp. I hide my purse behind the seat, leaving the letters behind
for the first time since I found them in the wall. I can’t take
them to Shark Island, and I can’t dare have them out in front of
Hector.

“You ready?” Rooks asks, taking his keys
from the ignition.

We leave everything behind, even the truck
key that Rooks hides in the rim of his tire. It’s just us,
presenting ourselves to Shark Island, hoping to find an answer that
can set Seth and Hanna free, prove Seth’s innocence, and shed some
light on why anyone went to Shark Island on that fateful night.

Hector’s boat hums against the ocean,
chugging along against the livid waves. I hope the weather holds
off just a little longer. I can take the light drizzle. It’s humid
enough that the rain is actually welcomed. A bright moon glows in
the sky, finding its way out of the dark clouds that keep trying to
consume it.

“Why did you want to come out here?” Hector
asks, looking back toward us briefly.

I glance at Rooks but take the reins. “I
live in the house they were supposed to live in,” I say, which
isn’t even a lie. “I guess I want to pay respect to them, to let
them go, even though I’ve only been here a short time. All I ever
hear about is how that would’ve been their home and they would’ve
built a future there. Going to a cemetery isn’t the same when you
know there’s no casket in the ground.”

“Makes sense,” Hector says. “Maybe this will
give you a little closure. I should bring Nat’s mom out here. She
needs some major closure in her life.”

The lighthouse comes into view in the
distance. We’re almost there. A wave erupts at the peak of the
rocks, splashing into the air like a leaping dolphin. A long wooden
bridge has been built into the rocks, where the fishermen stood all
those years ago pulling their crab traps over the rocks. I bet no
one has walked on those planks since 1965.

Hector steers the small boat toward the
lowest section of rocks. He throws a long chain onto a rock and
shrugs. “Makeshift anchor,” he says. “I’m going to stick close to
the boat so this storm doesn’t throw it back out to sea.”

He gets off the boat, though, and climbs the
rocks, guarding the chain. Rooks thanks him and tells him we’re
going to walk down to the lighthouse. Hector nods and says for us
to take our time.

“It’ll only take a few minutes,” Rooks
assures him.

I walk along the wooden bridge, hoping the
flooring doesn’t collapse under me. This is sacred ground, a place
that has been off-limits since the search and rescue crews declared
their recovery mission unsuccessful. The closest anyone gets now
days is via boating tours, which still keep a pretty safe
distance. And here we are – walking along Shark Island.

The lighthouse stands as the only remaining
witness to what happened that night. I wonder what it would tell me
if it could speak. That looming tower saw it all – the boat, the
people, the sharks. I hope it’d tell me that they were taken
quickly, with little to no suffering. I hope it was instant for all
of them.

We trudge along carefully, watching our
steps because this pier is probably more likely to fall in than we
are to be eaten by sharks. I think it’s sort of special that shark
nets are still in place out here, even though the area has been
abandoned for so long. It’s symbolic that Coral Sands does care,
that they never want this to happen again.

 A boat’s engine roars behind us. I
look back to see who else is crazy enough to be out on the water
tonight, but there’s no other arrival. It’s Hector – leaving.

“Hey!” Rooks shouts, running back toward
where Hector had docked his boat. He doesn’t even seem concerned
about the possibility of rotten wood. “What the hell are you
doing?”

“You want Shark Island? It’s all yours!”
Hector yells back, motioning toward the lighthouse. “But you’re
leaving my grandmother out of this. You’re not ruining my
family!”

The next thing he yells is eaten by the
screaming winds. His boat waivers in the water, shifting with the
changing tides. I don’t know what he knows, but he clearly knows
that we know something about Rosa and thinks we’re out to ruin her
or his family.

“Hector!” Rooks calls out.

“No!” Hector calls back. “No one is going to
care about what happened fifty years ago because they’ll have a new
tragedy to mourn now!”

His boat spins in a half-circle before he
takes off across the black water, disappearing into the night. The
winds howl around us, sloshing water in big waves against the
rocks. Rooks runs back to me and wraps his arms around me. I bury
my face into his chest, but the rain still stings my skin.

“So this is it? We’re just going to die out
here too?” I ask.

I look down at the pink dress. Great. My
‘ghost outfit’ will be a flamingo costume. That’s not exactly the
legacy I wanted to leave behind.

“Oh God,” I mumble. “I’m going to be a dead
flamingo in the water.”

“No,” Rooks says, tightening his grip.
“We’re not dying. We’ll stay right here, away from the water, until
someone finds us. Your mom and my dad will be looking. Your mom
will have every law enforcement officer out there searching.
They’ll find us. We’ve just gotta get through this storm.”

He keeps a tight grip on me as we battle the
wind to seek refuge closer to the lighthouse. I wonder if this is
what happened to Seth and Hanna, if they huddled together hoping to
outrun the storm – or survive it.

“We need to stay low, keep grounded,” Rooks
instructs me. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,
okay?”

“Okay,” I say, even though I feel like this
is destiny.

This is our fate. We played with the sharks,
and now we’re going to get bitten. We tempted the ghosts of the
past, and we dug into a treasure chest that was meant to be sealed
for eternity. Now we’re going to pay the ultimate price. Seth and
Hanna won’t be the legendary couple who died at Shark Island
anymore – we will.

Gusts of wind force against the lighthouse,
calling into the night like a merciless phantom vulture circling
its soon-to-be-dead prey. The sharp rain turns into larger drops,
splashing off of the ground around us and quickly forming puddles.
The ocean grows angry, tossing waves over the wooden barrier.

“We’re not going to be here in the morning,”
I say, trying not to panic. “The water is going to rise. We’ll be
swept out to the sharks.”

Rooks inhales and exhales deeply, his chest
moving slowly. He says all of the right things, but he knows as
well as I do that this isn’t going to end as we hoped. Seth and
Hanna will finally rest in peace because Rooks and Piper will
take their place. Everyone will blame my house, saying that the
Calloway Cottage is cursed. Mom will sell the place and move away
from here, and Mr. Carter will become a hermit who no one ever
sees. Frank will no longer be the renowned downtrodden victim.
Blake Carter will.

“Piper, look,” Rooks says, easing forward.
He points to a boat in the distance, its light dimly sparkling.
“Maybe he had a change of heart. He knows he can’t leave us for
dead.”

 The boat slows down as it eases toward
the rocks. We stand and hurry down where a lower level of rocks
sits. I don’t dare step down onto the rocks in this wind. Maybe
that’s why Hector’s coming back. He wants to lure us away from the
lighthouse, thinking we’re being rescued, when in reality, he’s
luring us to our deaths.

Rooks shields his face with his hand as the
boat draws nearer, blasting its light in our direction. I’m not
sure I even want to get back on the boat with Hector. If he’s
realized the storm won’t kill us, he may plan to do it himself.

“Rooks?” a voice calls out from the
boat.

“Mac!” Rooks calls out in relief. His
tightened muscles relax. “How did you know we were here?”

“No time for that,” Mac calls out, steering
his boat toward the rocks. “We have to get out of here. This storm
isn’t on our side.”

We walk down to the lower level of rocks as
Mac eases over, bumping his boat against the jagged edges. Rooks
places his hand on my back and nudges me forward.

“You go first,” he says, grasping onto my
hand to help me balance myself. Waves gush over the rocks, soaking
them with salty water.

Mac reaches over the boat for my free hand,
tightens his grip to ensure the rain won’t
interfere, and helps me onto the small boat. Rooks
follows closely behind me. Heavy raindrops jump off of the deck of
the boat. I refuse to watch Rooks step over the rocks. A shiver
spreads over my skin, leaving chill bumps in its wake.

“How did you know we were out here?” Rooks
asks once he finds his footing on the boat. “Did you follow
us?”

Mac steers away from the rocks, leaving
Shark Island behind us for good. “I knew you would end up here
before it was all over with,” he says. “It was only a matter of
time after you found those letters in the wall.”

My breath catches in my throat. I can’t
speak. I can’t even breathe. Raindrops stream down my face as the
wind slaps us for our stupidity tonight.

“How do you know about the letters in the
wall?” Rooks asks. He eases closer to me, wrapping his arms around
me protectively.

Mac sighs and glances over at us. “Because
I hid them in the wall,” he says. “At the time, it was the
best possible hiding place. No one was going in that house, and
they definitely weren’t going to look in the walls if they
did.”