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I open the book, and something flutters out from the pages of it. Bending forward to grab what looks to be a photograph, I reach out and turn it over. On the other side is an image of two young boys, no more than ten, I’m guessing, standing side by side. By the color of his hair and eyes, it’s clear the one on the left is Lucian. Arm wrapped around the back of Lucian’s neck, the other boy wears a wily smirk on his face that makes me smile. Wet hair and sand scattered over their shirtless chests suggest they’re at the beach.
“What is it you have there?” Laura asks.
I hand off the picture to her, and her eyes crinkle with the smile she gives. “Oh, look at this. My Lucian and his best friend, Jude. Ten years old in this picture, if I recall.” The smile on her face withers to a frown. “Such a shame, what happened to that boy.”
“What happened?”
“Ah, it was all over the news, his father being so well known. The two were playing down in a cave. Must’ve been about four years after this photo was taken.”
“How old is Lucian now?”
“Oh, let’s see.” Tapping her cheek, she looks away, seems contemplative for a moment, and I wonder if she’ll remember, at all. “He’s going to be thirty-three in December.”
Thirty-three. Strange to think that I wasn’t even born when that picture was taken. “I’m sorry, go on.”
“So, anyway, they liked to explore. Boys, you know. One of their favorite games was chicken. Seeing how long they could wait out the tide. Well, the tide came in fast, and they tried to swim out. It was believed Jude lost his footing on one of the rocks.” The groove in her forehead deepens, and she shakes her head. “Wasn’t until Lucian was safely out that he watched his friend get swept out to sea. It took a number of years to get over the death of Jude. Even as he got older, he had vivid hallucinations of him. Rand would catch him down in the cave, sometimes, talking to himself.”
“Lucian had bad hallucinations?”
“The doctors called it trauma. But then I had him admitted, and they just … stopped.” Gaze cast to the side, it’s like she’s trying to avoid looking at me. “I don’t know what they did. But it worked.” The more she talks, the more troubled her expression turns. “Until it stopped working.”
She shifts on the bed and tugs the blankets up higher. “On second thought, I’d rather you didn’t read. I’m just going to sleep.”