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Birds of the Ferngill Republic

Summary:

When Herbert Lyndon died, he left behind a will with a single stipulation: all three of his grandchildren live in Pelican Town for a year, or the farm goes to the highest bidder. Not wanting to see Joja take over his legacy, Eli, Ava and Mal agree to take the leap, despite knowing next to nothing about farming. For his part, Alex is just trying to get by; he's not looking for anything, and definitely not from the Big Man's grandkids. But some things are inevitable, and roots have a way of growing in the Valley, whether anyone likes it or not.

Notes:

This isn't a "farmer moves to the Valley, settles down and lives happily ever after story" - at least, not in the way you might be thinking. Please do heed the tags, as this fic does deal with potentially triggering material and situations, and take note of the magical realism tag in particular. There is magic of sorts in this, but it (as well as many other things) deviates from canon. Additional warnings will be posted before each chapter as needed.

Chapter 1: One

Summary:

"Hope is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul - "

- Emily Dickinson

Chapter Text

The first storm of summer came blowing through the valley, and with it, good news: the Big Man’s grandkids were coming to take over the farm. Nearly six months after his passing, mind you, but they were coming nonetheless. Pelican Town rarely got one new resident, let alone three, and the gossip spread like wildfire. The older folk remembered the Big Man’s son Aurelio, and of course his daughter-in-law Cassie; Aurelio had grown up there, and Cassie had lived on the farm with him and Herb for a year while she was pregnant with their oldest, but neither of them could look after the property. Too settled into their jobs and lives in the city, Lewis told Marnie over a pint in the saloon. He’d asked. But, he added, his foot brushing hers beneath the table, it was good that their kids had decided to take the reins before it was too late. Someone needed to keep Herb’s spirit alive.

Others were less generous in their assessment of the situation.

“Just what we need. A bunch of city kids who don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground,” Pam grumbled when she heard. “Bet you not one of ‘em knows how to brew a decent beer.”

From his usual table in the corner, Shane took a sip and privately agreed with her, even if he’d never say it out loud – he didn’t want to risk starting a conversation. Emily made a noncommittal sound as she slid Pam another ale and hoped the reserves from the Big Man’s last batch would hold until summer. From the way Gus’s mustache was drooping, she doubted it.

*

“We’re gonna have to find a new spot once they move in,” Sam complained, holding out his hand for the joint. Abigail rolled her eyes and passed it along, exhaling through her nostrils.

“No shit, genius.”

“I don’t care where we go, as long as it’s not my place,” Sebastian said. Abigail could barely see him in the shadow of the broken-down greenhouse, wearing all black and crouched on his haunches like some kind of golem. “My mom’s gonna kill me if she catches me again. She already took my bong.”

“Maybe we could keep doing it here.” Sam passed the joint to Sebastian. “If we only do it at night, maybe they won’t notice.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll notice, man.”

“Well, where should we do it then?” Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it. Sam shot him a triumphant look. “See? Nobody else is coming up with anything better.”

“Can you guys shut up for two seconds?” Abigail crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, prodding at her calf with a frown. Her new black tights already had a run in them. “Seb, quit camping that. You’re worse than Emily.”

“Calm down, it’s been thirty seconds. Here.”

“Wait.” Even in the dark, she could see Sam’s eyes bugging out of his skull. “You’ve smoked with Emily?”

“I can see it,” Sebastian said, digging his cigarettes out of his hoodie. “A bartender who doesn’t drink? There’s definitely something else going on there.”

Abigail took a hit and didn’t answer. Summer was already creeping in, the days growing longer and more languid, and when she tilted her chin up to exhale, there was the moon, its soft silver face smiling down at them. Something good was coming, Emily had told her the last time they hung out. Something to do with Herb’s grandkids. And yeah, Emily was a little weird with her crystals and patchouli and raw food diets, but she was also the only person who didn’t make Abigail feel dumb for believing in Ouija boards and ghosts, and she was usually right about that kind of stuff. Emily just knew things, like which crops were going to do especially well that season or who was going to get sick that winter, and she could predict when Marnie’s cows were going to calve, right down to the hour. The smoke from the joint mingled with the smoke from Sebastian’s cigarette, and Abigail watched it curl away on the wind.

Something good…

*

The rest of Pelican Town was too busy with their own endeavors to dwell on the news, once the initial excitement had passed. The season’s change was bearing down fast, and there was plenty left to do before they saw spring on its way. But the following morning, when Penny was getting Vincent and Jas settled for their lessons beneath the old oak in the square, a brilliant flash of color caught her eye, followed by musical notes falling like raindrops.

“Oh, look!” she exclaimed, and Jas and Vincent craned their necks skyward. A little brown bird flew by, throat and chest stained scarlet. Its song lingered in in its wake. “Do you know what that means?”

“No, what?” they chorused.

“A songbird flying due west means good luck,” Penny told them as she finished laying out her lesson plan. Sweet green grass poked through the blanket to tickle their ankles and the backs of their legs. “I haven’t heard one that beautiful in a long time.”

Vincent and Jas looked at each other, then back at Penny, mischief in their eyes.

“That means we don’t have to do our math worksheets, right?” Jas asked, and Vincent leveled his best puppy dog eyes in Penny’s direction. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sorry.” They both squirmed when she ruffled their hair, giggles bubbling up around them in the soft afternoon light. “Nobody’s luck is that good.”  

*

Whiskey Creek, the weathered sign on the gate proclaimed, the whole thing listing to one side after the latest storm. The letters had been branded into the wood, strong and dark once but faded now, and a splinter snagged the pad of Eli’s finger when he touched them. Beside him, Ava squinted down at the sign.

“Weird name for a farm.”

A droplet of blood welled up. Eli stuck his finger in his mouth and looked around. They were at the edge of the property, where the fence met the dirt road that led back into town. The ranch-style house their grandfather had built sat at the end of an unpaved driveway, surrounded by acres of sunbaked land. It still hadn’t sunk in that they were actually there; the hazy blue sky, the oppressive heat, and the droning of the locusts lent it a surreal quality, like standing inside of a dream.

“Was it always called Whiskey Creek?” he asked, dropping his hand by his side. His finger still stung, but he ignored it. “I don’t remember that from when we were kids.”

Ava shrugged. “Maybe that’s why we only spent like, two summers here growing up.”

“Explains why Mom and Dad fought us so hard on this. Trying to save us from the corruption of small-town living.”

Ava laughed, frightening a cloud of starlings from a nearby treetop. She had the loudest laugh of anyone he’d ever known. “Come on, we gotta head back. Robin’s truck just pulled up, and you know we can’t leave Mal unsupervised around new people.”

“He’s a grown man, not a puppy,” Eli said, the heat making him uncharitable, but when she stepped over the broken fence posts, he followed, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Dust rose up around her boots and his bare calves, red-brown clouds drifting in their wake. To their left, a sea of overgrown farmland waited, green and shining gold. A red pickup rumbled into the gravel-strewn driveway ahead of them and clicked off, engine dying with a whine. Robin, the woman who’d come to greet them at the bus stop, climbed out of the driver’s seat. With her was an older man Eli didn’t recognize. They waved as the siblings drew closer.

“Hi Robin!” Ava chirped, face almost as pink as her hair from the heat.

“Long time no see,” Eli added, and Robin laughed.

“Sorry to bug you kids, but I had some free time today, so I thought I’d stop by and make sure the wiring in this place is holding up. Herb never did like to let other people fix his things.” She motioned to the grey-haired man beside her. “This is Mayor Lewis. He asked if he could tag along and officially welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“Last time I saw you, you were both knee-high to a grasshopper,” Lewis said, shaking hands with both of them. “Your grandfather was a good friend of mine. We’re all sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks. Nice of you to come all the way out here.” Eli shoved his hands back in the pockets of his shorts, trying not to fidget. Summer was bad enough on its own, but his binder was starting to ride up, sweat making it stick to his back. Hopefully the shower still worked, or he was going to have to throw himself in the lake. Lewis peered past him, up toward the house.

“If memory serves, you have a brother… Malachi, right?”

Eli glanced over his shoulder just in time to catch the shadow at the screen door as it moved away. He and Ava looked at one another.

“Yeah, Mal,” Ava said carefully. “He’s unpacking. He’ll come out later, I’m sure.” It was a lie, but a practiced one, and neither Robin nor Lewis pushed them on it. Robin clapped her hands together briskly.

“Right! Well, I’m going to go around back and have a look. Shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”

She disappeared around the side of the house, and Lewis took off his cap and wiped his forehead, balding and shiny with sweat. “I’m afraid I have a confession to make.”

Ava crossed her arms. “What’s that?”

“I came here for one other reason.” Lewis resettled the hat. “As it so happens, you’ve arrived at a special time here in Pelican Town.”

“We did?”

“Today is our annual Luau. I doubt either of you remember it, but it’s a tradition in the valley. The Governor will be here, too.”

The salt-sweat was starting to itch where it gathered. Eli scratched the back of his neck. “Sounds fancy.”

“It’s actually very relaxed,” Lewis assured him. “You’re not obligated, of course, but you’re welcome to join in. It starts at the beach in a couple of hours.”

In all the excitement, Eli had forgotten how close they were to the beach. He perked up. “Oh, yeah. Could be fun.”

“We’re in,” Ava said. “Do we need to bring anything?”

“You all just got here. No need to worry about it. Oh, and feel free to come and go whenever you want. These things tend to be an all-day affair.”

“And most of the night,” Robin chimed in as she rounded the side of the house, gravel crunching beneath her work boots. Her bright yellow vest flashed neon in the sun. “Good news! I took a peek, and it looks like everything’s in decent shape. Thank Yoba Herb knew his way around home repair, eh? I can still come out sometime next week and set up an internet connection if you want.” She winked. “Unless you really plan on roughing it.”

“Please,” Ava said fervently, and Robin and Lewis both laughed this time.

“You got it, kiddo. I’ll be here first thing Monday morning.” And then it was time for the two of them to head down to the beach and finish setting up, so Eli and Ava stood in the driveway and watched them go, pick-up bumping and rattling its way down the dirt road until it was out of sight.

“So,” Ava said, after a moment had passed. “Robin’s kind of a MILF, right? Or is that just me?”

“Holy shit, Ava. We’ve been here five minutes.”

“So? I’m getting a head start.” She elbowed him, grin widening. One of her back molars was missing – a souvenir from a barfight a few years back. “Gotta find something fun to do around here.”

“Dude, gross. I don’t wanna think about you trying to bang the neighbors.” He elbowed her back, trying not to laugh. “I’m gonna go find my swimtrunks.”

“Yeah, alright. I’m gonna see if we have anything to bring.”

“Why are you so obsessed with bringing something?”

“Uh, because Mom and Dad would physically manifest and kick our asses if we showed up to a potluck empty-handed. Get with the program, Eli.”

“That’s… true. Damnit. I’ll help you look.”

There was no air conditioning in the house, but it was cooler inside than out. Everything was made of dark, polished oak and cherrywood with silvery birch accents in the molding and window frames, every inch crafted by Herbert Lyndon’s own two hands. Only two bedrooms, though, so Eli had volunteered to sleep on the couch, where he could drift off to the comforting white noise of the ancient television in the corner. The living room and kitchen nestled cozily together, and the front door opened into the adjacent walkway, which was decorated with their late grandmother’s paintings. Eli’s favorite was the one with the abstract blues and greens that hung beside the entranceway to the kitchen, paint running thickly down its canvas. It put him in mind of feathers, or rain. He poked his head around the corner.

“How’s unpacking going?”

“Fine,” Mal said, and shut the fridge door, water bottle in hand. “No thanks to you two.”

“We took a ten-minute break. Chill.”

“You could have taken one too, y’know,” Ava tossed over her shoulder as she sailed past, and Mal gave her the finger. Eli rolled his eyes and changed the subject.

“The mayor invited us to some luau thing this afternoon. You wanna come?”

“Nah.”

Mal cracked the seal on his water bottle and turned away, leaning against the counter. Eli watched him, guilt and frustration wrestling for dominant emotion. When he was younger, he would have given anything to be his older brother; he knew he looked alright, now, and Ava was pretty, but Mal had been in a class of his own. He’d inhabited an entirely different world than the rest of the mortal plane, coasting through life on a never-ending wave of free drinks and phone numbers scrawled on barroom napkins, red lipstick smudged at the corners. Eli had once seen a girl ride her bike into a planter when Mal smiled at her in a strip mall parking lot. But that had been years ago, before the accident and the scars – both physical and mental – had taken his brother and warped him into a sullen, angry recluse who worked at a corporate call center because it was the only job he could find where customers wouldn’t stare. It was strange to think that he used to lie awake at night while Mal slept without a care in the world, burning with envy and wishing they could trade places.

“C’mon.” Eli didn’t touch him, he’d learned the hard way not to, after Mal came home from the hospital, but he sidled around so they were facing each other again, putting on his best I’m your brother and you love me smile. “We’re gonna be here for at least a year. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know people.”

“Speak for yourself.” Mal set the half-empty bottle on the counter. “I’m just here to stick it to Joja. Everything else is you and Ava’s business.”

“What’s my business?” Ava reappeared at Mal’s elbow. She’d changed into a sky-blue sundress that showed off her tattoos, her swimsuit underneath, and her hair was tied back with a green bandana. “Your trunks are on chair in the bedroom, by the way.”

“Thanks, and our business is participating in the community,” Eli said. “Since someone’s pulling his shut-in Victorian spinster routine and doesn’t wanna see the light of day.” Mal gave them both a dirty look and left the kitchen, brushing past Ava. The door to the back bedroom slammed shut a moment later.

“Totally normal reaction for a thirty-year-old man!” Ava called after him. “Very mature.”

“Whatever. If he wants to throw a temper tantrum, let him.”

“We always do, don’t we?” She made a shooing motion in Eli’s direction. “Dude, get dressed if you’re gonna go. We gotta walk.”

Part of Eli – specifically, the part of him that wanted to take off his binder and spend twenty minutes with a cold drink and an even colder shower – was regretting going before he’d even left the house. But he did want to see the beach, and the promise of free food spurred him into changing his shorts and digging up an old t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The bedroom looked like a tornado had swept through when he was done, but that was normal. The room he and Ava had shared growing up was in a perpetual state of disarray. It both comforted and made him strangely homesick. They hadn’t lived together in years.

“Good news,” Ava said when he came padding back into the kitchen, shoes in hand. She held up a six-pack of unlabeled bottles. “Found something to bring.”

“Where’d you find that?” Pause. “What is that?”

“Vegetable crisper. Pops was holding out.” The deep green glass caught the sunlight when she tilted them towards the window, examining their contents. “I’m pretty sure it’s beer… think it’s a problem they’re not labeled?”

“Nah,” Eli said, slipping on his shoes. “We can’t be the first people in this town to poison someone via questionable homebrew, right?”

“I’m trying to make a good first impression! Ass.”

“I’m not sure attempted murder is the best way to do that, but hey. You do you.”

Ava chucked her sandal at him.

 

The walk was a long one, made longer by the sweltering weather, but beautiful, with lush fields on either side of them and a sea of jewel-toned forests in the distance. Spiny mountains the color of rust loomed, jagged teeth piercing the cloudless sky, and Pelican Town nestled in the center of it all, cupped by the welcoming hands of the earth. Eli only had vague memories of their summer vacations there, near two decades ago now, and it felt strange and familiar all at once with its quaint brick buildings and cobblestone roads, lampposts lining the square and flowers growing out of window boxes like relics of forgotten times.

“I didn’t think places like this still existed,” he said, looking around.

“Me either,” Ava said. “It’s so weird to be back. I don’t think anything’s changed since we were here last time, do you?”

“No. Just Pops, I guess.” And Mal, went the unspoken refrain. They smiled sadly at one another.

The town square was deserted, the streets and buildings eerie in their stillness, but as soon as they crossed the long, rickety bridge from town to beach, the atmosphere shifted from empty to joyous. Everyone was on the beach with the gulls wheeling overhead on the ocean breeze, their cries drowned out by the waves and the sounds of laughter and celebration. Colorful blankets decorated the sand like patchwork. A little girl tore past them as they stepped off the bridge and onto hot sand, shrieking gleefully. A boy about the same age chased after her, and from near one of the fold-out buffet tables loaded down with food, Robin caught Eli’s eye and waved.

“Hey, you made it!” She’d changed too, into a yellow sarong patterned with palm trees and parrots. It matched the shirt of the man with his arm around her waist. “This is my husband Demetrius. Demetrius, these are Herb’s grandkids, Ava and Eli.”

Demetrius shook hands with them both, grip sure. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Eli pointed at the enormous cooking pot in the center of the gathering, suspended over a stone firepit someone had dug out for the occasion. Mayor Lewis was chatting with the middle-aged woman overseeing it, flanked by a portly man in purple. “What’s going on over there?”

“Oh, that.” Robin waved her hand. “It’s the Soup.”

“The Soup,” Ava repeated dubiously.

“Every summer, the Governor comes to visit, and everyone brings something to add to that pot so he can judge it. It’s supposed to give him a taste of the local bounty.” Lewis was looking their way, a distinct note of panic in his expression. Robin smiled encouragingly. “You think Lewis would be less nervous about it by now,” she added through her teeth, still smiling. “The Governor’s come every summer for the last fifteen years.”

“Which has nothing to do with him getting his picture in the paper every one of those years, I’m sure,” Demetrius said. Robin swatted his forearm.

“Wow. And nobody ever… y’know.” Eli motioned vaguely in their direction. “Takes advantage of the situation?”

Demetrius shook his head, expression grave. “We don’t talk about the summer of the anchovies.”

“It’s better some years than others,” Robin admitted. “But you should stick around after it’s done. That’s when the real fun starts.”

Eli’s first instinct was to say something sarcastic, like how he couldn’t imagine anything being more fun than taste-testing the mystery soup, but he held himself back. He didn’t know these people yet, didn’t want to mock their traditions on his first day here – neither he nor Ava used to be all that concerned about first impressions, but there they both were, wanting their new neighbors to like them. Maybe that was just part of growing up: smoothing out the rough edges while you tried to become someone better. Maybe he was finally getting there.

“Sure,” he said. “It’s not like we have anywhere else to be.”

*

Sunset came to robe the sky in hues of orange and gold like autumn leaves, and Eli’s face hurt from smiling. He’d eaten too much and there was sand in every crevice of his body, but he was four beers deep and feeling too good to care.

Robin and Demetrius had kids in their twenties, only a year or two younger than Ava, but they were both off on different parts of the beach with their friends. “I’ll introduce you later,” Robin had promised, and then it was time for the tasting. Ava and Eli lingered in the back of the crowd, listening to Lewis extoll the Governor’s praises while they eyed the soup, which had taken on a greenish cast.

“I’m not eating that,” Ava whispered.

“Me either.” Eli nodded at Robin and Demetrius’s backs, just to see her expression. “Too bad they’re not on the menu.”

Ava popped him one in the shoulder, cheeks blotchy and red between her freckles.

“They’re gonna hear you!” she hissed.

Eli knew he was being an asshole, but that was part and parcel of your best friend and your sibling being rolled into one: pushing each other’s buttons like nobody else. “You’re the one who called her a MILF.” He nudged her shoulder. “Hey, maybe they swing. You never know.”

“Dude, shut up.”

The Governor pronounced the soup pleasant, with much fanfare and posing for the camera, and everyone clapped politely and murmured congratulations to one another. Lewis looked like he might faint with relief. It was odd, Eli thought, but nice. You couldn’t do anything like that in the city. But as it turned out, Robin was right – once the Governor had departed and the leftover soup distributed and set aside for later, the chant of “Clambake! Clambake!” swept across the shore, and the real fun began.

The firepit was repurposed and set up with cinderblocks at the corners, and Eli and Ava helped Robin layer seaweed between the corn, potatoes and clams on their corner of the pit. Her daughter Maru showed up not long after to help out; she had her mom’s easy smile and her dad’s no-nonsense mannerisms, and her friend Penny was quiet and sweet with big doe eyes, hovering around Maru’s heels. Half the town was crowded around the pit, talking over each other while they waited for everything to cook, smoke billowing towards the sky. It was chaos, but the good kind, like Zuzu City when it came alive at night but gentler. Ava got up and came back a minute later, toting the six-pack.

“We found this in the fridge,” she explained, plopping down between Eli and Maru with the cardboard holder in her lap. “I don’t know if they’re any good, but – “

“Is that the Big Man’s homebrew?” Robin asked, craning her neck around her daughter to get a better look. “Pass two of those this way, quick. Before anyone notices.”

“Sure.” Ava handed two of them to Maru, who passed them along. “You’ve had this stuff before?”

“Absolutely,” Demetrius said as Robin handed one to him. “Your grandpa brewed some of the best beer this valley’s ever seen. Give it a try if you haven’t already.”

Eli snagged one, and Ava offered one to Maru, who politely declined before excusing herself. Penny had already disappeared, quietly as she’d come. Eli had a split second to wonder about it before the simultaneous crack and fizzle of bottles being opened drew his attention elsewhere. Robin cleared her throat.

“To Herb.”

“To Herb,” Demetrius echoed. “He was a good man.”

“To Pops.”

“To Pops.” The necks of all four bottles clinked, and they drank deeply. Eli wasn’t much of a beer drinker – he didn’t like to do things halfway, getting drunk included – but this was different. This was summer in a bottle, fruit and honey and sunshine spices thick on his tongue. He finished half the bottle in one go, gasping a little as the carbonation tickled his nose.

“Holy shit, that’s good.”

“Yeah, wow,” Ava said. She’d already finished hers, and was eyeing one of the remaining bottles. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I never kid,” Demetrius said. Eli couldn’t tell whether or not he was joking.

It hadn’t been long before food was ready, and there was salt and melted butter to go around, passed from hand to hand around the pit. Everything tasted smoky and briny like the sea, and Eli ate and ate, licking his fingers clean between bites. He was full now, and warm, and someone else had brought more beer to share; the fire was welcome now that the sun was going down, and the cooling breeze kissed his cheeks. A blond kid he didn’t know had whipped out a guitar and had half the beach singing a song he’d never heard, nightingales cooing along from nearby treetops. Robin and Demetrius danced a little way away, kicking up sand and laughing like a couple half their age, and to his right, Ava had become heavily engrossed in conversation with a blue-haired woman. Something about auras, from the sound of it. Nobody noticed when he extricated himself from the circle, brushing sand from the creases in his shorts while he stumbled towards the bridge leading back to town. It was starting to get dark, the sky freckled with stars, but the bridge was lit by the same old-fashioned lampposts on either end. Here, it was cool, the noise from the beach so much crashing surf in the background, and he leaned against the low stone wall and ran his hands through his hair.

“I really do think this will be good for you, Eli,” Janice had said at their last session, two weeks before the move. “We’ve been talking about reducing the frequency of your sessions for a while now. Think of it as a test run.” Janice had been Eli’s therapist for the last five years. She wore cat’s-eye glasses and sensible cardigans no matter the weather, and she took no one’s shit, Eli’s included. He adored her.

“What if I can’t do it?” he’d asked, shifting on her overstuffed brown couch. “What if I get there and everything goes straight to hell?”

“Then at least you tried, and I’m only two hours away,” she reminded him with a smile. “If you need to make an emergency appointment, you can. I’ll still be here when you get back either way.”

It’s only a year.

A tendril of anxiety snaked in, piercing the his beer-fueled glow. This was how it always went. Any time things seemed like they were going well, there it was, tapping him on the shoulder and whispering that things were going a little too well, didn’t he think?

He brushed it aside firmly. No. It’s nice here. Everyone’s nice. It’s going to be fine.

A deep bark snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked to his left just in time to see a huge, shaggy brown dog hurtling towards the bridge, leash whipping behind it. He had about two seconds to process what was happening before heavy paws on his chest nearly knocked him flat, and the dog tried to climb all over him, panting happily in his ear.

“Hey, whoa there,” he laughed, narrowly avoiding dog tongue in his mouth. “You’re cute, but I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“Dusty!” someone yelled, exasperated. The dog dropped obediently to all fours, tail wagging so fast it looked liable to burst into flame, and circled Eli’s legs, barking at the figure jogging towards them. Dusty’s owner, Eli presumed. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a Zuzu Tunneller’s t-shirt and jeans, and when he got closer, the lamplight shone on green eyes and a strong jaw, both set firm with annoyance. “Damnit, Dusty – sorry, man.” He grabbed the leash, wrapping it around his hand, and Dusty barked again, trying to lick Eli’s knee. “He likes meeting new people.”

“Hey, me too.” Eli wasn’t exactly short, but he found himself having to tilt his chin up to make eye contact. A pang of envy echoed in his chest. “It’s not as socially acceptable for me to lick them, though.”

The guy made a noise like he wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh. “Uh… sure. Good luck with that.” He gave Dusty’s lead a tug. “C’mon, boy. We gotta go.”

“I don’t actually lick people!” Eli called after him, suddenly embarrassed, but both man and dog kept walking without a backwards glance. He slumped back against the bridge, jamming his hands deep in his pockets. Smooth, dude. Real smooth. Still, as far as first impressions went, only flubbing one wasn’t bad. He just needed to keep focusing on the positive.

Cute dog, though.

“Where have you been?” Ava asked when he flopped down next to her in the sand. She’d switched to water while he was gone, and judging by her shoulders and the bridge of her nose, she was going to have a sunburn come morning. Eli didn’t envy her. All he and Mal ever did was tan in the summer. He shrugged.

“Getting some air.”

“We’re outside, dingus.”

“Different air.” People had been leaving as the night wore on, and now it was just them and a few others, scattered in clumps along the beach. He spotted Robin and Demetrius sitting at the water’s edge, her head on his shoulder as the waves lapped at their bare feet. “They look like Mom and Dad, don’t they? All disgustingly happy and in love.”

“I know. It’s adorable.” Ava looked at him, and he looked back. She had her knees hugged to her chest, the hem of her dress fluttering against the sand. Shadows played across her face, hazel eyes unusually serious in the firelight. “What do you think so far?”

“Of them, or the town?”

“The town.”

“Everything seems good so far. Why?”

Ava’s gaze drifted to where the moon hung soft and full over the ocean, wreathed in stars. From where they were sitting, it stippled the whole thing silver, like diamonds scattered on black glass.

“I think I’m gonna like it here,” she said.

*

It was late by the time they left the beach, but the moonlight was bright enough to see by, dirt roads and surrounding fields cast in stark relief as they stumbled home with their arms around each other’s shoulders. Mal was asleep on the couch when they came in, giggling and trying to hush one another; an old copy of The Land Before Time whirred the in the VCR. He didn’t budge, even when Ava turned the TV off, so they left him to his dreams and took turns showering off the grime of the day’s events. Midnight found them sprawled on Ava’s bed in their pajamas like they used to do when they were younger, whispering secrets to one another in the dark.

“I can’t believe you were the one who sold Josie Russo and Daniel Dieter that bag of oregano,” Eli said, face buried in the pillow to muffle his laughter. “They talked about how high they got at Cory’s cousin’s party for like a month!”

“Daniel started that rumor about you, and Josie used to cheat off of me in Algebra. Mild humiliation was the least I could do.” Ava rolled onto her back, hugging her pillow to her chest. “I don’t miss high school.”

“Me either, but that’s not exactly a secret.”

“Yeah.” Ava paused, and her expression shifted in something somber. “This was Dad’s childhood room, I think. I told Mal he could have the master bedroom because I didn’t want to sleep where Pops died. Is that weird?”

“It’d be weirder if you did,” Eli said, and they both smothered a few guilty snickers. Ava looked over at him.

“Your turn.”

Once, when pressed, Eli had told her that the reason he quit sharing secrets with her was because he didn’t want anyone to know the nameless, brutal conflict raging inside him once puberty hit. That he was afraid of what he might say if he let his guard down for even a second. That was true, but it wasn’t the truth – there were some things he couldn’t share with her no matter how badly he might want to. He could feel them pressing against his teeth now, like birds trying to break free of a cage. But this wasn’t the time, and he swallowed it all down with a silent apology, digging for something else to fill the empty space between them.

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to keep this up for a whole year.”

“Me too.” Ava’s voice was starting to soften, slurring around the edges. “I really missed spending time with you like this.”

“Me too.” He reached out, took her hand. “It’s like… with everything that’s been going on for the last few years, everything else just kinda fell by the wayside. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I get it.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “You, me, Mal… we all kinda fell by the wayside for a while.”

“I wish it was like when we were kids still, sometimes. When it was easier, y’know? It was all just… easier.”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his hand. “It was.”

That was how they fell asleep – stretched gracelessly on top of the covers with wet hair and their fingers tangled together. But in the space between dreaming and waking, after Ava had dozed off and Eli was almost there, he told the house the secret he’d been keeping. Old houses know all about secrets. Their walls have no tongues, but they have ears. It listened without judgment, without reproach or shame; it had heard worse in the four decades since Herbert Lyndon built it to win the love of a woman who could never really be his. It took his secret into itself, and there it would stay, between the two of them and the stars.