Coven (32 page)

“
I was thinking we could
spread Mom’s ashes tomorrow morning. Does that work for
you?”

“
Yeah.” He nodded, tapping
his fingers on the wheel, as he appeared to ponder. “I have a
meeting tomorrow night with the crew, but I'm free for the majority
of the day. I cleared my schedule to be with you.” Glancing at me,
he smiled his old, familiar grin, the one that made the skin around
his eyes and forehead wrinkle massively, and his dimples appear
suddenly. “I know it's not the best of reasons for you to visit,
but I'm glad you're here.”

“
Thanks.” Truth be told, I
wasn't all that sure if I was happy to see him or not. He'd always
been so preoccupied with the Treasure Pit, I was surprised it
hadn't surfaced in the conversation yet. Then again, that was most
likely what his meeting with the crew was about. “I'm glad we can
honor Mom’s last wishes.”

Opening his mouth, he sat there gaping for a
second before finally closing it, apparently deciding against
whatever he'd been about to say. After a few minutes, he took
another breath, ready to try again. “I don't have a very big
house,” he started,” but there’s a sleeper sofa in my office. I was
thinking I could stay in there and you could have the bed.”

“
I'm not taking your bed.”
I laughed, certain he hadn't said what he wanted to before. “It's
your room. I don't mind sleeping in the office.”

“
Are you sure?” He sounded
so hesitant, like he was afraid for me to see what was in there.
“All of my work stuff is stacked around.”

“
Isn't that what an office
is for?”

“
Yes, it's just—well—I
know you don't approve of my work at the pit. I don't want you to
have to stare it in the face the whole time you're here.” He
shrugged, his face somewhat red, and it occurred to me that he was
embarrassed to talk about what he did.

“
Dad,” I said softly, my
annoyance instantly diminishing. “I may not agree with how you
spend your time, but it is your time. The Treasure Pit is part of
who you are. I came out here
expecting
you to talk my ear off
about it. You don't need to feel badly for being yourself.”
Surprisingly, I meant every word of it. Mom and I may have thought
he was a fool at times, and I certainly had my share of resentful
feelings, but he was still my dad. If I was going to believe anyone
could do whatever they put their mind to, he was going to be
included in that, no matter how awkward I felt about it.

“
Really?” The amount of
surprise in his voice almost hurt my feelings. “I thought you would
have shared your mom’s opinion on the matter.”

“
We didn't talk about it
very much.”

Quiet filled the car once more, and I turned
my attention to the fading sunset. There were no pink or gold
colors in the sky, like there were back home. Everywhere I looked,
all I could think of was how different this place was. It was nice,
an escape from the life without Mom that waited for me back in
Arizona. The circumstances of my visit were dreary, but it was a
welcome respite from all that had been going on. Here, only Dad
knew I'd just lost my mother. There wouldn't be scores of people
stopping by, offering to help. My neighbor wouldn't be calling
every other day to suggest I join a grief-counseling group. Friends
wouldn't glance at me apologetically whenever we were together. I
wouldn't have to wake up each morning and wonder what I was going
to do with all of Mom’s things, or if I was going to keep the
house.

“
I still loved her,” Dad
said very suddenly, a soft mourning present in his voice. “I always
did. We couldn't make it work, though. Not with both of us wanting
such different things. Over the years, we talked less and less—you
know that—and she simply . . . drifted away, you know? If I'd known
how sick she was . . .” His voice trailed off, his eyes glued to
the road, the smile he'd worn moments before completely
gone.

“
Don't beat yourself up,
Dad.” His confession surprised me some, but when I examined the
memories I had of him, it did make sense. My parents had always
gotten along better than most divorced couples I knew of. At the
time, I thought it was because they hardly spoke to each other. Now
I wondered if perhaps Mom had always loved him as well.

“
I should’ve fought harder
for her,” he continued, coughing back emotion. “I should have
proven I could be there when she needed me most. I wasn't before
and it cost me dearly. If she'd told me she was dying, I would have
come.”

“
She didn't even tell me,”
I offered, trying to help him feel better. Talking about our
feelings was the last thing I'd expected to do, but it was
strangely cathartic. “I only found out when she started getting bad
and couldn't hide it from me anymore.”

Glancing at the urn in my lap, he smiled
softly, but this time it held none of the happiness it had before.
“She was always looking out for everyone, especially you.”

“
She was a wonderful
mother.”

Finally, we turned off the main highway and
onto a regular city street. The sections of town we'd passed so far
weren't all that big, and this place was no exception. I didn’t
even seen any chain hotels, just a few bed and breakfast type
places.

“
This is it,” he said,
pulling into the driveway of a tiny, one story home. It didn't look
as beat up as the car, but was obviously old and in need of some
tender love and care. The lawn needed mowed and there were chinks
in the sidewalk path leading up to the sun bleached front door. The
brown paint on the walls was cracked, but not too badly. Still, Dad
smiled as he gestured to the whole of it. “Home sweet
home.”

Sliding out of my seat, I smiled as he
offered to take Mom from me, handing over the urn to him with ease.
Our conversation had made me more than confident that he would take
good care of her. The rest of my things were in the trunk and I
quickly grabbed them, following him to the front door.

If the outside of the house was rundown,
then the inside was immaculate. Pieces of art were displayed on the
walls, leather furniture waited welcomingly, and various cool knick
knacks were on display on bookshelves and the mantel of the
fireplace. Straight across from the front door was a wall with a
cut out window, revealing a small kitchen and dining table. A hall
that broke off to the right concealed the rest of the house.

“
It's not much,” Dad said,
moving to set Mom on the mantel. “But it works for me.”

“
I like it,” I replied,
smiling widely. “If I'm being honest, I was expecting much less
based on your car and the outside.”

“
Really?” He chuckled,
plopping down onto the couch, eyes sparkling. “Well, I guess you
have me there. They could use some tuning up, but appearances don't
bother me. Except for here, that is. I want to feel comfortable at
home.”

“
How did you afford all of
this, if you don't mind my asking? I was under the impression that
you were practically a beggar. No offense.”

“
None taken,” he laughed.
“I actually do make my own money, though. When I'm not out on Oak
Isle, I run an eBay store that sells odds and ends. I've also
gotten pretty good at stocks, if you can believe that. I managed to
get an early bid in on some oil shares, which worked out supremely
well. Most of my income comes from there.”

“
The stock market. Are you
serious?”

“
Of course I am.” He
chuckled again, seeming to enjoy my disbelief.

“
Doesn't that all get used
up on the island? I mean, Mom always made it sound like you two
were dirt poor.”

“
Oh, we were then,” he
agreed. “I didn't have the financial know-how I do now. Sure, most
of the money gets used in the excavation, but I do have a little
for myself now and then. You caught me at a bad time. I haven't
cashed in on anything recently and everything I did have was used
up.”

“
How much do you put into
The Treasure Pit out of what you're earning?” I asked, not sure he
was really telling the truth.

“
Most of the funds come
from backers. But my own money? I’d say I probably spend at least,
oh, five million a year?”

“
Excuse me?” I all but
shrieked. “You mean to tell me that you're making
millions
a year? Like
actual millions?” He continued to grin like an idiot, watching me
process what he'd said. I had the sneaking suspicion he was really
enjoying my awe. “Did Mom know?” I finally asked when I was able to
quit gaping at him.

“
Of course! I asked her if
she'd like some of it, kind of like an interest tax on the alimony
payments I’d made after our divorce. She turned it down, though.
Never did tell me why.”

“
I can't believe you spend
that much treasure hunting,” I said, still stuck on the five
million. “That's more money than I'll probably ever have in my
whole life, combined.”

“
That's not true,” he said
with defensive humor. “When I die, you'll inherit everything—the
money, the stocks, the house, all of it. You can do whatever you'd
like with them. The money was never that big of a deal to me. It
made things on Oak Isle easier, with the hunt and all, but that was
it.”

Stunned into silence, I stared at him. I was
getting everything? Mom had left me all she had earned from her
teaching job as well, which wasn't millions by any means, but more
than I thought I could ever need right now. What was I going to do
with all of this as well?

“
I hope that's okay,” he
added quickly, seeing my expression. “I don't have anyone else to
leave it to and I was hoping it could stay in the
family.”

“
Dad.” The word barely
squeaked out, my throat having tightened and mouth gone dry.
“That's a lot—too much even. I don't know if I can handle it.” I
hardly knew him at all. It would be like getting a gift from a
stranger.

“
I probably shouldn't have
sprung it on you like that,” he apologized, standing. “We’ll talk
about it later, yeah?”

Flabbergasted, all I could do was nod,
swallowing hard.

“
Here,” he said, taking my
bags from me. “Let me show you to your room. I apologize for not
having it fixed up. Like I said, I was thinking I would be the one
staying in it.” Leading me down the hall, we stopped at the first
door on the right. Straight across from it was a bathroom and at
the end of the hall I could see the bedroom through the open door.
“Let me know if you want to trade.” The tone of his voice was
serious as he turned the handle, opening it to reveal his office,
which was a mess of papers and everything he needed for his
work.

Entering the space, I immediately saw the
couch he had mentioned, shoved against the wall by the door. The
rest of the room was lined with bookshelves and maps tacked onto
the walls. In the center was a large table, with several chairs
around it. It was covered in all sorts of charts, order forms,
books, and even more maps.

“
This is where I have my
meetings with the crew. The mess doesn't bother me much because it
makes sense to me, the way it's laid out, but I feel bad putting
you in here with all of it.”

“
It's fine,” I reassured
him, taking it all in. “It actually looks pretty
interesting.”

“
Oh? Has the treasure bug
bit you, then?” He laughed, shoving his hands into his pockets as
he stood in the doorway, glancing over everything.

“
Not exactly.” I smiled,
sitting down on the couch. “I don't really know much about this
place, except for what you told me when I was younger, and anything
you wrote in your letters.”
And Mom’s
ranting about how crazy this all is.

“
Feel free to check out
anything you want,” he encouraged. “Just be sure to leave it where
you found it or I'll never find it again. Also, the couch folds
out, like I said, but you'll have to move the table back some for
it to fit.” He paused for a moment. “I have to ask one more time;
are you sure you're okay with staying in here?”

“
It's totally fine,
really.”

“
I guess I'll leave you to
get settled then.” Grinning, he turned and walked back down the
hall, into the kitchen from the sound of it. “Do you like chicken?”
he called back, his voice traveling easily through the small
structure.

“
Sure.”

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Chapter Three

Staring at the urn on the mantel, I ate
cereal for breakfast the next morning while Dad ran to the store
for something. It'd been so comforting to have Mom with me, even if
it was in this form. Now that it was time to spread the ashes, the
air seemed to hold a heavy sadness. I wasn't ready to say
goodbye.

“
Hi, Mom.” My food
finished, I set the bowl down and rose from the couch, moving to
stand next to her. “I'm sure you already know, but I love you so
much. I don't know if I'll really have time to tell you goodbye
later. Having Dad there will be great, I'm sure, but I wanted to
have one last minute with you by myself.” The urn remained silent,
of course, but I easily recalled how her smile looked, the way her
teeth always seemed so much bigger when she was grinning. Smiling
myself, I continued. “Speaking of Dad, I think we could get along
fine. When I was on my way here, all I could think about was how
you'd always said he wasn't ever concerned with anything that
wasn't his treasure hunt. I thought I was coming to meet up with
the man who abandoned his wife and child . . . but he doesn't seem
like that at all. I guess people can change, right? Maybe it was
best to push me to spend more time with him.”