“I went to her room, traded her one-hundred thousand tickets.”
Impressive when Eugenia thought about it—it even deserved a low whistle. “Wow, that’s a lot more than I was ever offered…”
“I paid her to tell everyone I fucked her all night.” The man took a deep breath, one so unlike the composed captain. “Instead, I got drunk on her balcony and passed out on her floor.”
Standing on shaky legs, Eugenia approached the water’s edge to pick up a flat rock and skip it over the tide. Eight skips before it sank.
“Eugenia. Did you hear what I said?”
How much she’d missed hearing the way Aaron said her name. As if there was no one else in the world but them. As if he really knew her… which he did. “I feel sorry for Jessica. She’s been in love with Maxwell for years. He’s been in love with her. But to hide it from you, they are always with other people.”
“I know.”
A sorry snort, and she started looking for a new rock to skip. “If you knew, both of them would be dead.”
The specter’s voice came nearer. “I know all of it, Eugenia. And I turn a blind eye when I can.”
“That’s… almost sweet.” The real Aaron wasn’t sweet. He was aggressive, relentless, unscrupulous, generous, beautiful, loving, and twisted.
“Going to Jessica was the cheap trick of a desperate man. One who knew you’d get off the boat one way or another. A man who’d tried everything he could think of to manipulate you into surrender. I left the room that night, because I needed you to be jealous, to be anything if you couldn’t love me. Because I was jealous of everything you fought for. I’m jealous of the fucking ground you walk on.”
This just might have been the most fulfilling fever dream she’d had yet.
Sane enough to remember that auditory hallucinations were a terrible sign, Eugenia looked down at the mud-stained, ugly blue cotton under her crusty furs. She’d lost weight. “I thought I’d die in a nicer dress, wearing the pearls my daddy gave me. I had never taken them off until the day I traded them for scraps, because it was that or pussy. God only knows where they are now.”
“Honey, please look at me…”
Another perfectly shaped rock skipped over chilly waters, Eugenia smiling to beat her record. “Shouldn’t it be lamb? Lamb to the slaughter? Lamb on a spit? You called Brooke lamb.”
Pain, there was so much pain from her ghost’s confession. “I could have told her about Fresh Wat
er, and I didn’t. I needed a living example to open your eyes.”
The tear that fell was warm on her cheek. “I know… but it wouldn’t have mattered which way she went. There is no happy ending anywhere.”
“Eugenia… please.”
Closing her eyes to the sound of a stalwart man begging, she sighed.
But the phantom was relentless. “I would be happy to just be able to see you”—and the voice came closer—“even if you never let me touch you again.”
“If we’d met in some bar before the bombs, if you’d approached with your swagger, your good looks, and your unbearable pretentiousness... I would have thrown my drink in your face.”
There was amusement in the specter’s reply. “I just bet you would have.”
“Do you? Because I’ve thought about it to an unhealthy degree, and I’m not sure why.”
The amused lilt, she’d missed the sound of it. “Because I scare you. Because I’m brazen. Because I’m all the things you want but would never admit.”
“Those things are true, but I think it’s because with just one look, I would have seen exactly what you were capable of. Men like you ended the world.” A deep breath, the hard work of peeling her eyelids open accomplished, she prepared to turn and found nothing there. Cutting a glance to the side, she found his boots… badly in need of a polish. Running her eyes over dirty jeans, a flannel, a man in a coat, until she found the new beard growth on his face. “I know who you are, Kingston.”
Was that relief in his eye? “I know you do.”
“But we’ve never talked about it, not really.” God, she was a mess, covered in dirt, hair all snarls. Running a hand down her tangled mane as if she might knock the dust out, she said, “It’s the eyes, the cheekbones. You’ve got Joan’s good looks, but deep down, you’re all Daddy.”
“Joan would be proud to hear that; it was her one job. Be pretty and raise an heir.” Settling into his stance like a trained politician, the captain added, “Did she ever tell you she was runner-up to Miss America? Born and raised to be a politician's wife.”
“And though Granddaddy might have been Governor, your father—”