Secrets Whispered from the Sea - Emma St. Clair Page 0,60
phone back into my purse. I wasn’t thrilled with the Three Terrors, and I most certainly was not into Jason. But I still found myself smiling. They cared. Even if it was in a being-nosy-and-overbearing way.
My smile faded as I walked back up to the deli counter and a familiar voice called out, “Did you find the carob chips? And the condoms?”
Craig came out of nowhere and was peering into my cart. I met Jason’s startled eyes.
“Looks like you forgot the ranch seasoning and the Red Mill almond flour,” Craig said.
“Did I?” I pulled up the list again, wanting to look anywhere but at Jason. Craig was right.
“Yes. I have an eidetic memory. It is helpful with things like this. And in school. I do well in school.”
While we were talking, Jason made his way around the deli counter, his arms full of small plastic bags filled with sliced meats and cheeses. He set them in my cart and then, to my surprise, threw his arm around Craig.
“I see you’ve met Craig. He’s my little brother.”
I could totally see the resemblance now that the two of them were standing together. Other than the acne and the fact that Craig didn’t smile, they did look a lot alike.
“Craig has been very helpful.” A little too helpful.
“So I heard.” Another wink.
If Craig was too helpful, then his brother was a little too smooth.
Jason lowered his voice. “Craig is on the spectrum,” he said, making me wish I could fall through the floor.
Not because I was embarrassed. I had suspected as much based on our interactions. But because Craig wasn’t deaf, and I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hear himself talked about in this way to a stranger in the deli of Harris Teeter. Maybe Jason was a great big brother. He certainly seemed proud. But Craig’s cheeks had turned a little pink underneath the acne. I wanted to reach out and squeeze his hands but didn’t think that would help the situation.
Jason didn’t seem to notice our discomfort. “Craig, this is Clementine.”
Craig studied me for a moment. “Like the song. Or the oranges.”
“Exactly,” I said before narrowing my eyes at Jason. “I didn’t tell you my name.”
His expression told me that he hadn’t just been a part of the plan the Three Terrors had for me, but he knew about the plan. He sighed.
“They can be very persuasive.”
I laughed. “Yes, they sure can.”
“I hope you don’t mind. They come in every week, always trying to set me up with one of their granddaughters or daughters of a friend. I usually just play along. This is the first time they’ve actually sent someone in to meet me. Which one is your grandmother? Let me guess … Jo?”
I was aware that my face had frozen in some awkwardly painful expression. The island was small, but I guess it made sense that Jason knew Nana but didn’t know she had died. And for just a few minutes, I hadn’t thought about it. Now, the reminder slammed into me.
Several people waited in the deli, and I became aware of the irritated looks they were shooting our way. My hands suddenly felt so hot on the handle of the grocery cart that I let it go and took a step back.
“Clementine?”
Jason’s voice sounded funny, like there was an echo to it. When I blinked, the darkness lingered in little spots at the edge of my vision.
“I’m sorry,” I heard myself say, just before I began to run.
Dodging carts and other patrons, I focused only on the bright sunshine coming through the windows at the front of the store. I made it outside, barely missing the sliding electric doors, which opened at a snail’s pace.
When I caught sight of Nana’s yellow jeep, I shifted away, running along the front of the building and then behind it into a small neighborhood. I was aware of an ache in my knee and bits of gravel digging into my feet, which were clad in only flip-flops.
I hated running.
But I did not stop.
The store was on the sound side of the island, and I could see a slice of that blue past the old, cottage homes and denser foliage shading the road.
At the end of the street, there was a small section of woods before the water. I slowed as my feet sank into spongy ground covered in pine needles. A branch whipped at my cheek. Birds startled into the air with a warning cry.