Beckoning Light (The Afterglow Trilogy #1)(2)
Author: Alyssa Rose Ivy

Monty had visited us in Alaska several times each year, so he didn’t look too different when I saw him waiting at baggage claim. Clearly in need of a shave, he had that ruggedly handsome look usually reserved for movie stars. At thirty-four, he still held on to a certain boyish charm that made him look years younger. When Monty saw me, he ran right over, picked me up, and swung me around. If anyone else had done that, I would have lectured them about my being too old for it, but it was different with Monty. It was a ritual that had started when I was a toddler and had never seemed to wear off. “Hi, Charlotte. How was the trip?” he asked.

“Bearable, but it’s good to finally be here.” I smiled as we walked over to meet Kevin at the baggage carousel.

“Hey, Kevin, are you excited about playing for the Tar Heels next year?” Even though Monty had never pressured Kevin to play college ball, it was obvious he was thrilled that Kevin had signed with North Carolina.

“Yeah, I guess you heard I officially signed last week. It looks like I’m following in your footsteps… but I won’t be warming the bench.” Kevin laughed.

If Monty felt snubbed by the remark, he didn’t show it. He responded by grabbing Kevin’s hand and pulling him into a bear hug. “Good to have you kids back home.”

***

I looked out the window of the back seat of Monty’s truck as we drove away from the airport. Kevin had called shotgun as soon as the truck was within sight, and I got into the backseat without complaint. Monty had laughed as the two of us went on and on about the hot weather. “It’s only seventy degrees,” he reminded us.

“You do realize how cold November is in northern Alaska, right?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Monty said playfully. I could tell that it was funny for Monty to see how much three years in Alaska had changed us.

As I watched the palmettos and beautiful oaks with dangling moss pass outside my window, I felt more excited about being home every minute. Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the long drive on the side of the house. It didn’t look like much had changed but, then again, very little had changed in the more than two centuries the house had been in my father’s family. I stood outside staring up at the house, feeling a sense of homecoming I hadn’t quite expected. In some ways, the house had been as much a part of my childhood as the people. The endless rooms and countless small hideaways coupled with my wild imagination had made every day an adventure. I always thought that growing up in an old house somehow connected me to the past, especially since so many generations of my family had lived there.

I waited as Monty and Kevin pulled our bags out of the car and toted them inside. I followed them in and was hit with a wave of disappointment. Though I knew that my mother wouldn’t be waiting for me within those walls, part of me had hoped I would feel her presence in some small way, as if returning to the house would somehow quell the empty feeling that I could never quite shake. I snapped myself out of it as Monty started to talk.

“Kev, you’re in your old room but, Charlotte, there was some water damage in yours, so I put you up on the third floor,” Monty told us as he dropped the last of our bags in the foyer. I wasn’t surprised. When you lived in a house that’s been around for over two hundred years, there was always something that needed to be fixed.

“Great,” I said with some feeling, as I realized that I would have my own bathroom.

Monty grabbed the larger of my two bags while I carried the smaller bag and followed him. Kevin was already in his room when we passed it on the way up to the third floor. Monty stopped at the first door on the right. “I thought this one would work well. You have views of the yard and the harbor from the windows and porch.”

I walked in and examined the room. I was glad to see that the bed was already made; I suddenly felt exhausted. On top of the bedspread were the boxes of clothing I had ordered in anticipation of my need for clothes more appropriate for a southern climate. I looked out the window and took in the view of the garden, the manicured rows of bushes, the brick paths, and my favorite spot, the fountain at the rear of the yard.

I had grown up in that garden, following mom around everywhere. I even had my own little section where I planted all of my favorite flowers. I wondered suddenly if Monty had been keeping them up. I finally tore my eyes away from the window and noticed an object in the far corner of the room—my cello! One thing that my uncle and I shared was our passion for music. In addition to being basketball coach, Monty was also the orchestra teacher.

“Thanks so much for setting everything up for me.” I gave him a hug. I really couldn’t believe he had set up my room so nicely in such a short period of time.

“Anytime. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.”

I collapsed on the bed as soon as Monty left the room. Thoughts of the trip had kept me from fully coming to terms with being back in Charleston, but now the trip was over, and reality set in. It was Saturday afternoon and, on Monday morning, I would be walking into a new high school, forced to see people I hadn’t seen in three years. It seemed like a fresh start would be easier; at least no one had any preconceived notions about you that way. Here, I had no idea what people thought.

One silver lining was that Kevin would be driving me to school, so I didn’t have to arrive ridiculously early with Monty. Our dad had left a car at the house that Kevin could drive until he went to college, and then, assuming I had my license, it would be mine.

Within minutes, I fell asleep. The day of travel had finally caught up to me. The next thing I knew, my room was dark, and Uncle Monty was in the doorway asking what kind of pizza I wanted.

“Anything is fine.” I was trying to hold onto the end of a dream, and I barely got the words out.

“Pepperoni it is. I’m going to go get it with Kevin; we’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Great,” I called after him absently while I contemplated the dream.

The dream had replayed a vague childhood memory. As a child, I woke up in the middle of the night and walked downstairs for some water. I thought I heard something outside, so I peered out the kitchen window. I saw my mother walking up the garden path wearing a long blue dress. I ran upstairs so I wouldn’t get in trouble for being out of bed so late. Before going back to bed, I looked out my bedroom window and could have sworn I saw a faint light at the back of the garden. I never asked my mom about it, but I always wondered why she was out so late at night dressed so formally.