Page 80 of Creeping Beautiful

And it was. The Company was gone. We were working, but only on our own jobs now. And we were happy that summer. We were.

But it didn’t stay that way for long.

“I remember this.”

Indie’s statement draws me out of the past and back into the present.

There is no glow of fireflies now. No romantic lights or flickering candles. The whole house is gray with the late winter dawn.

The switch in light from the walk to the house from the car throws me for a moment. Like a spell. But it’s not magic. It’s just the rising sun.

Indie is too pale. Donovan is standing in the living room off to my left—hands in his pockets, shoulders much broader than I remember them being—looking out the window, so I can’t see his face.

But I know what he’s looking at.

Or, rather, what he’s not looking at.

The little brick house that used to be across the lake, but isn’t anymore.

“What did Adam say, Donovan?” I ask.

Donovan doesn’t turn around when he answers me. “He said he’d be here.”

Indie huffs. “Well, he’s not.”

“Are you hungry, Indie?” I ask her.

“Maybe a little.” Then she turns to the long, curved staircase that goes up to the second level. The spindles are white and the steps and risers are dark wood, like all the floors in the house, except for the kitchen and TV room, which have slate floors.

She stares up, squinting a little, like she’s remembering something she forgot.

I turn back to find Donovan. Make sure he’s seeing this. I mean, that was the point of coming here, right? Make her remember?

But he’s not paying attention.

“Hey, Donovan. You wanna like… join us?”

He turns, but slowly, hands still in his pockets. And it takes his eyes a few seconds too long to meet mine. “What?”

I nod my head at Indie, who has started climbing the stairs.

“Oh. Sure. You go with her. I’ll find us something to eat.”

Indie is almost at the top now, looking at all the other photos that hang in the upstairs hallway.

“Call Adam,” I say. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He nods. And I follow Indie upstairs.

She’s peeking into Adam’s bedroom. He had the largest one on the front side of the house that faces the driveway and the south gardens.

I stand next to her and take in his room. Everything is covered in white sheets but I don’t need to remove them to know what’s underneath—a large four-poster bed in the middle with nightstands on either side. Two chairs make an intimate seating area off to the left, and a massive armoire made of dark wood balances the whole thing out on the right.

Where does Adam live? Why don’t I know this?

I suddenly feel like he’s hiding things from me. Which, to be honest, I should’ve figured out four years ago when he disappeared. But I had so many other things on my mind after Indie took off that day.

Indie moves on to the next room, which is Donovan’s. Smaller than Adam’s, but still large. Same kind of furniture. Four-poster bed, armoire instead of a dresser. All the furnishings up here are antiques and are probably as old as the house, which is over a hundred years old. Only the stuff downstairs is new.