Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Let’s get it done next week, weather permitting,” I tell him.
“I don’t have my notepad with me, sir.” I glance back at Caius because his tone is off. “We’re at your fucking wedding reception,” he reminds me. “Can we take a break from work for one hot minute?”
“Fine. I’ll take care of it.” I put the key into the lock and turn it, but it must be broken because there’s no resistance, no unlocking. Making a mental note to get it looked at, I pocket the key and push the door open. Caius enters first. He flips the switch, but nothing happens.
“Here.” I hand him one of the flashlights standing on a shelf along the wall. “When it storms, it’s not unusual for the lighthouse to lose power, apparently. Or so I’m told.”
“Then how is the beacon working?”
“Generator?” I shrug and pan my flashlight around. Paraphernalia of parties litters the floor. Hence the broken lock.
“You know where it got the name Suicide Rock from, right?” Caius asks me.
I nod once. Oh, I know. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of ghosts,” I say, trying to sound casual even though I feel anything but. I’d rather be alone right now, would rather see this on my own. It feels somehow intimate, this place that’s gruesomely connected to Madelena.
“If ghosts exist, I’m guessing you’re the one who should be worried, but you seem just fine.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, although I know. I stop and turn to look at him. Caius knows the things I’ve done. All those years, I needed a confidante. Or a confessor.
“Nothing. That was in poor taste.” He pats my back. “Let’s go up, brother.”
I drop it, not having the capacity to deal with more crap tonight. Truth is, my relationship with Caius has suffered since Dad died, since he changed the will the way he did. Caius has told me repeatedly that I’m imagining it, that nothing is different, but it is.
I tripled the stipend Dad left for him and have made him my equal as far as making decisions and running shit for the family, but ultimately, it’s my name on the bottom line and we both know it. Dad also added a single damning clause that I’ve talked to the lawyer about undoing but so far, no luck. The Augustine fortune can only be handed down to my offspring. A male heir, ideally, but, if in a bind, a female will do. Dad was old-fashioned. But only my children can inherit. I’ve added my own clause to make sure my brother and his eventual family are taken care of. It doesn’t make it any less shitty that Dad did it, though.
On top of that, I still have what happened between Madelena and me on my mind, how this night went. Not to mention Madelena asking what we have on her father. That’s not going to go away. I’m going to have to figure out how to answer her eventually, because she can’t ever discover the truth.
Once we get to the top, we stand at the large window that spans the circumference of the lighthouse and look out. Caius whistles.
“Holy hell. You can see the end of the world up here.”
“Yeah.” It’s an inadequate response to the magnitude of what we’re seeing. Given the storm, I can imagine it on a clear day. But it is exactly the storm that makes it so fucking incredible. The power of nature, the smallness of man, our impermanence. It’s all right here, right in our fucking faces.
But that’s not why I came.
Caius moves to the heavy metal door that leads out to the catwalk that circles the lighthouse. It’s under construction that’s been halted for weather. He tests the lock. It’s secure though. Kids may have broken the lock below but down there is different than up here. Here, the past lingers.
He moves back to the windows and peers down onto the cliffs. “Fuck, I hate heights.”
“You’re indoors,” I remind him, although I know he doesn’t do well with heights.
“Still hate them. You think she felt herself falling? Crashing?”
It’s a strange question, especially coming from him. Has he thought about what happened here?
“I hope not.”
He glances at me, but I keep my gaze out over the water.
Madelena’s mother committed suicide when Madelena was five years old. The story is that she’d brought Madelena with her, planning on taking her over the edge right along with herself, but for some reason, she hadn’t. The note she’d left behind had been written before she’d changed her mind, which was how they’d known she’d meant to end her daughter’s life along with her own.
It had taken them hours to find Madelena wandering around up here, freezing without a proper coat or shoes. I think she’d have been too small to see out of the windows, to see her mother’s broken body below. But would she have seen her fall? The thought chills me through.