I'll Be Watching You Read online

  He nods and heads off for the kitchen. I get up and walk to the window, and see that a couple of the lifesaving boats are docked now. The divers are on the pier.

  Have they given up?

  One of them sees me and looks away.

  My heart flutters.

  No. It’s too soon.

  I feel like I’m not in control of my own body as I run down the steps and to the shore. “You can’t stop!” I shout, the wind whipping my hair. “She’s there. She’s there somewhere. Please, please, keep looking.”

  I try to get into the water again so that I can keep looking myself, but someone grabs me and holds me tight.

  “Don’t,” they say. “Don’t.”

  “Let me go.” I wrench away, and I plunge into the sea. I swim and swim, searching and searching. My fingers trail the sandy bottom, trying to feel for her. She’s got to be here. She’s got to be here. If I can find her, I can fix it.

  Please God, please God.

  I swim and swim in the darkness until I can’t feel my arms and legs. I swim until my lips are blue and numb. I swim until I can swim no more. I’m limp as someone hauls me out of the water, and I’m a heap on the sand. Someone wraps me in a blanket and my teeth chatter.

  “Don’t stop,” I beg them. “Please.”

  But their searchlights are dark now.

  They’re giving up for the night. I whimper and moan, and retch onto the beach.

  “Call my ex-husband,” I say aloud, to someone, to anyone. “Tell him to come.”

  I close my eyes and lie down, pressing my cheek into the sand.

  Hands come and pull me away and lead me into the house, and I let them. Because nothing matters now.

  Not anymore.

  Chapter Four

  June 29

  Leah and Skye sunned themselves on the sand.

  They knew that sunbathing could lead to wrinkles or skin cancer, but they weren’t old enough to worry about it yet. They were still immortal.

  “You have better skin than me,” Skye grumbled.

  “Yep,” Leah agreed cheerfully. “Sorry about your luck.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. “You suck.”

  “Don’t be salty.”

  Skye laughed. “If I didn’t love you, I might hate you,” her friend decided.

  “Whatever.” Leah wasn’t worried.

  Even the Black Dolphin’s private beach was a bit crowded today, since the weather was so perfect. Baby blue sky, cotton clouds, a slight breeze. It was something straight out of a Jimmy Buffett song, and the tourists were eating it up.

  The girls had been getting looks from most of the males on the beach, with Leah in her white bikini, and Skye in her red. They knew, but ignored it. They weren’t here for boys today. Very seldom did they indulge in tourists. Too much drama for too little payoff.

  “You’re still coming to my parents’ party tonight, right?” Skye asked with a yawn. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  Leah nodded. “Yep.”

  “Is that your new favorite word?” Skye lifted an eyebrow and Leah opened her mouth.

  “Y—”

  “Don’t even say it,” Skye warned her. Leah grinned.

  Skye looked down at the cast on her arm. “I’m going to have such a crooked tan.”

  “It’s almost time to get the cast off,” Leah reminded her. “It’ll be fine.”

  Neither of them pointed out the fact that it was Leah who had accidentally dropped Skye during a cheer stunt at summer camp. Her hand had slipped, and Skye had fallen. It was an accident, and it didn’t happen often. Leah felt terrible.

  “Tonight is gonna suck so bad,” Skye said instead, thinking again about her parents’ cocktail party for her father’s clients. “God. It’s gonna be all business talk and kissing ass.”

  Leah laughed. “True. But we get to go out on a yacht, so that’ll be fun.”

  “It’s just a rented yacht,” Skye reminded her.

  “But still,” Leah argued. “I’ve never been on a yacht. Not a fancy one anyway.”

  Skye seemed to cheer up a little. “What are you going to wear?”

  “My little black dress,” Leah answered. “It’s my go-to. You?”

  Skye nodded. “Same.”

  It was practically universal girl code. A fancy party = LBD.

  They moaned about it awhile longer and debated which shoes to wear, and then they headed home to change clothes and get ready.

  Leah stood in front of her bathroom mirror, twisting her hair up and then letting it down. She finally decided to wear it up. It would be breezy on the water, and she didn’t want to deal with the tangles afterward.

  “You look beautiful,” her mother said from the door. “Here, I brought you a shawl.”

  “A shawl?” Leah arched an eyebrow at the old-fashioned term, and her mother laughed.

  “It was actually your grandma Lola’s.” She handed the sheer slip of red lacy chiffon to Leah.

  “It’s really pretty,” her daughter conceded.

  “Yeah, it’s timeless,” Emmy agreed. “Just don’t let your grandmother’s behavior rub off on you.” She arched an eyebrow sarcastically at her daughter. Leah laughed.

  “Okay. I promise not to instantly become a bad decision-maker.”

  Her mom smiled. “Lord, you look just like her.”

  Leah imagined that to be a good thing. Lola Casey had made poor decisions, but everyone to this day spoke of her beauty.

  Her mother cleared her throat. “Now, tonight, don’t get too close to the railings if the sea is rough.”

  “I know, Mom.” Leah rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

  “Are you staying over at Skye’s afterward?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, text me when you get there safe.”

  Leah nodded, agreeing.

  * * *

  She soon found herself aboard the 150-foot Happy Ending. Skye was watching for her, and rushed to push a glass of punch into her hand. “Get me out of here,” Skye said under her breath. “Mr. Bolton is smashed.”

  Leah glanced behind her friend to find the man staring lecherously at them both. “Gross,” she muttered, steering her friend away.

  A small band was playing on the bow, and the girls wove their way through groups of chatting people until they were next to the music. They swayed with the beat, staying a safe distance from the drunk elderly man who was looking for them with groping hands.

  “Half the people from the island are here, I think,” Leah observed, staring at all the finely dressed guests. She recognized a couple of teachers from school, a couple of pastors from her church, and even Liam’s dad.

  “You know my dad,” Skye said wryly. “He’s gotta schmooze.”

  “Yeah.” Leah glanced at the Haydens, who were both laughing with a client. “Your mom looks pretty good at it, too.”

  “Oh, yeah. She plays the part.”

  Mrs. Hayden caught Leah’s eye and waved, with a smile. Leah waved back.

  She and Skye danced as the sun set, dropping down over the horizon in an explosion of color, and it turned out to be not so bad, after all.

  They met a couple of boys their own age, nephews of a new client here for the summer hunting for real estate investments. They hung out and talked and danced, and it was definitely better than sitting at home with nothing to do.

  It was toward the end of the evening when Leah got the text.

  She reached into the slim black clutch that she had borrowed from her mom and pulled her phone out. She expected it to be her mom, actually. Making sure she was okay.

  But it wasn’t.

  Her eyes narrowed at the message. Not at the sender, because she knew him well, but because of his words.

  You look stunning tonight, my dear.

 
She reread the message in confusion. Was she imagining that there was something new underlying there?

  He’d never spoken to her in such a way.

  A second text came through a few minutes later.

  I hope it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable that I told you this. I just thought you should know.

  She looked up, trying to find him among the crowd.

  She wasn’t exactly sure how it made her feel, to be honest. It felt different, almost wrong. But it was oddly exciting, too...to be noticed.

  She wondered if that made her a bad person.

  Or maybe she was just imagining that it meant anything at all.

  Chapter Five

  August 16

  “Emmy.”

  Nate’s voice is serious. I close my eyes. Somehow, I know I don’t want to hear what he’s going to say. He’s been here for the past seven days, ever since it happened.

  My ex-husband sits next to me now on the darkened porch, the crashing sea a perfect background for an ominous conversation. So many things pulled us apart over the years, so many “irreconcilable differences,” but we have one huge commonality now.

  Devastating, soul-wrenching grief.

  “The sheriff’s office is tentatively calling it a drowning related to a shark attack,” he tells me, his voice decisively calm and steady. “There was an eight-foot bull shark sighted on the public beach earlier that day. The shredded ankle loop, the blood on the board, it all points toward the same thing.”

  “But she hasn’t washed ashore,” I say quietly, and my tongue is wooden. I can’t feel it, and I swirl it around, trying to feel it, but it doesn’t work. “There’s no body, Nate.”

  Body. I’m talking about my precious girl in such strange terms. She’s not a body. She’s a person. She’s my person.

  Nate looks away, his mouth tight. “She might’ve been pulled out to sea, or...there might not be anything left.”

  Jesus God.

  I exhale in a rush, and my breath feels sick. My hands shake, like they have every day since it happened.

  “Go ahead and say it,” I mutter. “This is my fault. If I hadn’t let her go out that night...”

  Nate puts a hand on my arm and his voice is stern. “Stop. I don’t blame you, Emmy. It’s something that happened. It’s tragic. My heart is broken and life will never be the same, but it wasn’t your fault. Of that, I am certain.”

  His absence of anger makes me feel even guiltier, because I know the truth. I know that it’s all my fault. It was my job to not let her endanger herself in any way, and in one lapse of judgment, she paid the ultimate price for my mistake.

  “I mean it, Em,” he adds. “You need to believe that.”

  I don’t, and I never will. But I don’t argue with him.

  “I think you should sell the inn,” he says quietly a few minutes later. My hands clench around the arms of the rocking chair. “You would get top dollar for it, and you could get away from here, from this place. You could maybe even come to Phoenix. Maybe we could try again...”

  His voice trails off and I fight the urge to laugh bitterly. A reunion? That was Leah’s favorite daydream. I’d never do that now, not now that she isn’t here to enjoy it. That would be an insult to her memory.

  “We both know it wouldn’t work,” I tell him instead, my voice soft and even. “The death of a child...a couple rarely survives that. Besides, I don’t want to sell the inn. Leah lived here. I’ll never leave it. It’s all I have left of her.”

  I haven’t been in her room since the night she died.

  Died.

  Jesus. I can’t say the word aloud, and I can barely even think it.

  My daughter is dead. My beautiful, vibrant, strong daughter.

  It’s unfathomable.

  If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I imagine her like she was that night, poised on the steps and listening to me chastise her for taking photos again. Her face was soft and vulnerable, and all I’d done was come down on her. If I could just go back in time, I’d grab her and pull her away from the sea. I’d never let her swim in it again.

  “You’re too isolated here,” Nate says, pulling me from my thoughts. His voice is firm, as though he has a say in it. “You need to be around people, Emmy.”

  “I am,” I tell him. “I have guests here every day.”

  “Not the guests. I mean real people who you can talk to.”

  “What time does your flight leave?” I change the subject and Nate sighs.

  “Six a.m. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  We’ve had this conversation at least ten times during the past week. I nod.

  “Yes. We have to get back to normal. Our new normal.”

  It feels odd now, because when Nate leaves, our tie will be severed. Leah was our common bond, the last vestige from our marriage. Now that she’s gone, there’s no reason to stay in touch. It’s as though he reads my mind, and he grabs my hand, squeezing it gently.

  “We should...we should organize a memorial,” Nate says now, and ice forms in my rib cage, stabbing my heart.

  “No,” I snap. “We can’t. I can’t do that yet, Nate.”

  He stares at me, his eyes filled with his own pain, yet so concerned with mine.

  “Okay. We can wait. I’ll come back whenever you’re ready to do it. I’m always here for you, Em,” he tells me. “I want you to check in with me, and we’ll talk. Right?”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  But I know what my intentions are. I’ll phase him out, slowly but surely. Our calls will get further and further apart, until they disappear. He’s too painful. He reminds me too much of Leah...the way he holds his mouth, the way he cocks his head. I can’t do it.

  “I can take Bo back with me,” he offers, and this startles me. My gaze snaps up to where Bo is sleeping beneath a palm tree on the front lawn, his big head resting on his large paws. He sleeps there a lot nowadays, as though he’s waiting for Leah to return. The thought of Nate taking him fills me with panic.

  “No,” I answer quickly. “It’s too hot in Phoenix for him.”

  “It’s hot here, too,” Nate answers. I can see that we both want this last piece of Leah. But Nate acquiesces. “But you can keep him, if you want. I just thought you hated him.”

  “Of course I don’t hate him.” Leah loved him, and now so do I. I owe that much to her. “He needs to be here in case we find her.”

  Nate arches an eyebrow but he doesn’t say anything. He’s being so careful, treading so cautiously, as though I might break.

  And maybe I will. It’s hard to say at this point.

  “I love you, Em. I’ll always love you.”

  “I know.”

  His eyes are mossy green, and for a minute, for just a minute, I want to lose myself in his arms, to forget my pain. I know those arms. I know the heat from his chest, the shape of his biceps, the beat of his heart. But taking comfort in him tonight won’t help anything. Not really. It wouldn’t bring Leah back, and in fact, it would only make things worse.

  I shake my head, as though I’m shaking that option away. It’s not an option. It will never be an option.

  “Emmy,” he says quietly. “Our daughter drowned.”

  My heart squeezes, and tears fill my eyes.

  “She’s gone,” he continues. “But she died in the ocean that she loved. That’s some consolation. It’s small, but it’s something.”

  “We don’t know that,” I insist. “Not for sure.”

  He’s silent, and nods slightly. “We do, though.”

  “I’m gonna turn in,” I say shortly. “I’ll make you breakfast before you go.”

  “No, that’s okay. I still don’t like to eat that early.” His smile is wry and I should’ve remembered that. But my brain is foggy still...cloudy with grief. I don’t know when it will
fade, when I’ll be able to think straight once again. Because my daughter is dead. My heart knows it, even if my lips can’t say it.

  “Okay. Good night, Nate.”

  I pull my hand gently from his grasp and walk up to my owner’s apartment, the one we used to live in as a family. It looms dark and lonely at the top of three flights of stairs, and I know that once Nate leaves, I’ll probably start sleeping in an empty guest room. It’s too lonely in my apartment without Leah. It feels too wrong to be here without her.

  But then again, everything feels wrong without Leah.

  I make myself a cup of chamomile tea, careful to move around the half-empty glass of water sitting on the counter. Leah had put it there a week ago, an hour before she’d gone out to paddleboard. Her hand had been on the glass, her lips on the rim, and I feel if I move it now, it will propel her memory even further away, or diminish her somehow. Right now, I still have things that she touched. If I don’t move them, she will stay nearer to me. I can even pretend that she’s coming back, that she’ll just be gone for a while.

  I know how illogical that is, and I ponder it as I sit in a chair by the window. There’s a big difference between knowing and caring.

  Across the room, her unused guitar still sits where she had it last, leaning against the wall. The rich brown wood gleams in the lamplight, and I remember when she sang and laughed as she played. She wasn’t particularly good, but she didn’t care and neither did I. We sang anyway.

  It sits silent now.

  Time was an enemy I hadn’t expected. It raised its head and robbed me of my daughter. I only had fifteen years with her.

  It wasn’t enough.

  If I’d known, I would’ve sang more songs, taken more walks, taken more time off work, made more breakfasts. I left her alone a lot because of my job, because that was what I thought was important. I wanted to leave her a legacy, and now there’s no one to leave that legacy to.

  I lived in a castle of glass and in one moment it all shattered.

  I’m the queen of nothing, an empire without an heir.

  Damn it.