Maybe it’s because it’s low tide, but the waves aren’t much of anything today. We call the side of the beach between Chicken Beach and the stream Pomelo Beach now, and the rest of it the Village.
Haley’s head turns to watch Pomelo Beach vanish. Calvin takes us onto the Village beach. There are remnants of a pier that I didn’t notice the last time I was here.
I’m pretty sure Zane and Calvin have been coming this far whenever they come, though they don’t talk about it.
There’s a piling near the shore solid enough to tie the WaveRunner to.
Calvin lifts Haley off and carries her to the beach, even though she’s still wet from her dive in the cave. But then he just likes carrying her around.
“Full disclosure, Chiefie: Whenever I make fruit runs, I’ve been working on digging.”
“I know,” Haley says. “We all knew.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No. It’s not you to go hiking or running over the top of the mountain by yourself or doing the journey for no reason. I’m sorry. I thought you knew I knew.”
He nods. “Makes sense.”
“Calvin.” Haley reaches for his arm. But he’s got the supply bag and is heading for a path up to where the huts were—are. “I thought he knew. I...”
“It’s not you, Haley. Calvin made a choice to keep this place secret from you, from all of us. He’s stubborn. He wanted it to go down one way, and it didn’t. In a way, he’s trying to carry the pain for us, them, it’s fucking noble. But it’s also?—”
“Stupid,” she says.
“Yeah, it is.”
“But I still love him.”
“Didn’t say you shouldn’t. But it’s never going to be easy.”
“I didn’t sign up for easy.”
“No, no, you didn’t.” I follow her up the path.
Chapter 36
Crosshairs
Calvin
Sweat comes out of every pore in my body. Easton’s too. Even Haley has taken a turn. But the digging’s done. A month ago, Zane and I decided to make a spot that overlooks the beach. One cemetery. Someday I’ll move the others that I buried last fall. But not today. I really didn’t think Haley would want to be here.
I flick my eyes over to Haley. “Why don’t the two of you go collect the fruit while I?—”
“Do all the hard, painful stuff by yourself? No.” She’s got a hand on her hip. The early afternoon sun shines from around her back, castling a halo above her head.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Wow, he might be changing,” Easton grunts.
“No, that’s not happening,” I say.
“What next?” Haley asks.
There are five mounds; all the details are written in my notebook in my pocket. In college one summer, I worked for an archeological firm that moved a small family cemetery. There’s a new highway that goes through their old family plot now. We haven’t done things exactly to the same standard.
Haley’s on one side of me, her head close to my shoulder, Easton on my other side. “Do we say something now?”
