How to Keep a Secret

Some people had a bar or a restaurant that was their place.

For Lauren it was a patch of sand sheltered by dunes and seagrass.

“Let’s stop talking about the future.” The more time they spent together, she reasoned, the harder he would find it to leave her. “We have the whole summer ahead of us. All I care about is now.”

14

Mack

Remorse: a sense of deep regret and guilt

for some misdeed

“Mom, wake up.” She felt the concrete of the dock pressing through her jeans and the cold bite of the wind on her neck, but the only thing she cared about was that her mother wasn’t moving. “Please don’t be dead.” She couldn’t possibly die and leave Mack now, when her life was a disaster and her brain was jammed with so many confused feelings she couldn’t begin to unravel them.

The tears she’d been holding back rose like the tide, scalding her throat.

“Mom!” Why had she been so vile? She’d said mean and hateful things and now her mom was going to die, too, and Mack would be alone with a big fat guilty conscience to add to all the other emotions churning uncomfortably inside her.

Worst of all was the fact that she wouldn’t have the chance to say sorry.

The thought terrified her so badly she knew she was going to break down and sob right here in front of everyone.

Her mother was pale, and the dark rings under her eyes made her look like something from one of those zombie movies Abigail had made them watch.

Mack felt as if she were being choked. There was no air and her chest hurt. Was she having a heart attack? She was going to die, too.

She sent a desperate look to her grandmother, but Nancy was standing immobile.

It was as if she’d been turned to stone.

Mack was trying to come to terms with the fact that she was going to die right alongside her mother when a strong hand closed over her shoulder.

“Breathe out slowly—” The voice was deep and reassuring. “You’re going to be all right.”

She was not all right.

“Dying—” She gasped out the word and he crouched down next to her, his hand warm and steady on her back.

“You’re not dying. You’re safe.”

Safe? How could he think she was safe?

And why wasn’t her grandmother doing something or saying something?

But the feel of that hand on her back gradually calmed her. It soothed and comforted. He didn’t talk nonstop, but he was quiet and calm. Perhaps she wasn’t dying. Surely no one could be that calm if they were about to witness a catastrophe?

“Keep breathing slowly. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Something about that rough, firm voice made it impossible to do anything but respond.

Gradually her heartbeat started to slow. The tingling feeling faded.

“My mom—”

“She’s going to be fine, too. She fainted, that’s all. I’m going to take a look at her now, so you keep up that slow breathing for me.” He shifted away slightly and she resisted the temptation to grab him and yell don’t let me go.

“Are you a doctor or something?”

“No.”