Summary: After convincing Sarah and Erin to leave for the mainland, Mildred goes to confront her old lover. She has to talk some sense into him.
A/N: Thank you @femalecynic for beta reading, and thank you everyone who’s commented and left kudos along the way. I hope you all enjoy the final chapter! 🖤
Rating: E | Chapter 10/10: Full chapter on Ao3
All morning services had been stopped months ago, and that suited the residents of Crockett Island just fine. Mornings had always been quiet, before the miracles had started. The evenings became the same, after the miracles stopped.
That wasn’t strictly true. They hadn’t stopped, so much as they’d slowed down.
John stood outside, greeting the small number with waves and smiles and small talk.
The Scarboroughs came last. With the angel gone, John had no more blood to add to the sacrament, but they had their own. Once a month, he added a drop or two to the eucharist, just enough to keep Leeza walking and Wade’s arthritis from getting worse. Ed Flynn’s back no longer troubled him, and Annie hadn’t needed her glasses for months. Millie had hesitated at adding any of their blood at all, but she had relented to just a few drops. It was better to let everyone live their natural lives, to be taken when God intended it, but they could help those lives to be more comfortable.
“No Miss Clift this evening, Father?” Wade asked, walking up the ramp.
John smiled, though he was sure it looked strained, and tried to stop his eyes from jumping to the rectory.
“No. She’s feeling a little under the weather, I’m afraid,” he excused, and turned to follow the Scarboroughs inside. “I’m sure she’ll be back on her feet in no time.”
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@weirdnatasha and @believesinponds wanted to know if Pru Callahan ever ran into Izzy again as an adult.
There was a long wait at the passport office. Pru had made an appointment and figured that that meant there’d be some order to the whole thing, but instead, she’d been standing around for a half an hour with no end in sight. Annoyed, she searched the benches again for a place to sit and finally found an empty space. It wasn’t very big, but neither was she.
She moved down the row and said to the lady in a fluffy mink coat with her purse on the bench, “Excuse me, would you mind if I took a seat?”
The lady didn’t look up from her phone, didn’t acknowledge Pru at all. Someone snorted. The man on the other side. He glanced up at Pru and the unresponsive woman, gave her a sympathetic eye roll and moved the few inches of bench he had left to make room for her.
She hadn’t addressed him first for good reason. He looked like the type of guy that would be unreasonable just for the hell of it, ancient black leather jacket, fading face tattoo, wire rim reading glasses and mostly silver hair raked back away from his face. Like he’d maybe got out of prison yesterday. Pru had maybe ignored the spot for just that reason until her feet started to ache.
But he’d moved for her and she wasn’t going to ignore that. With a soft ‘thanks’, she sat down and sighed.
“No problem,” he said hoarsely and when his eyes went down, it wasn't a phone, but a book.
Pru didn’t read much, but the idea of a book appealed right now. She had her phone in hand, but if she looked at it, she’d have to check her email and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with her current client, who’s specification changed hour to hour. It was maddening. Instead, she wanted to think about this summer when she and Patrick would go to London, a week-long vacation that would take her out of the country for the first time in many years.
The woman beside her reached for something in her purse, knocking her elbow into Pru. She grabbed the bench to keep from colliding with the man beside her, but still managed to knock her shoulder to his.
“Sorry,” she sighed.
“Don’t be,” the man glared not at her, but at the woman beside her. “She’s being a fucking asshole.”
The language made Pru’s nose wrinkle a little, but she had to give a brief nod of acknowledgement. In the shift, the cover of the book became more evident and she was surprised to recognize it.
“My boyfriend’s daughter read that one,” she blurted, then flushed. There was no way this guy wanted to be compared to an adolescent girl. “She liked it, I think.”
“Got decent taste,” the man said, apparently unperturbed. “It’s not bad.”
“Is it scary?”
The man made a soft snorting sound, “Certainly trying to be.”
“She had a nightmare and I wasn’t sure- well. Patrick always says she’s allowed to read what she likes, but I worry.”
“The kid I got this from always says there are scarier things in high school every day than in his books,” the man said and Pru heard fondness there.
“Hailey is still in middle school, but I guess that can be scary too.”
“Way I remember it,” the man agreed and turned a page, probably trying to signal an end to the conversation.
Pru accepted that. She opened her purse and rustled around a little, picking out old receipts and things that she could throw out, finding a stray advil that was more fuzz than pill. Gross. She should probably do this more often.
“Israel Hands?” Someone called from the front. The man beside her got to his feet.
It had been twenty years and if you had asked Pru an hour ago what Faith’s thug boyfriend’s name had been, she wouldn’t have been able to answer with a gun to her head. He’d just been a face in the hallway, a sneer and a curdled curse in her father’s mouth.
But hearing it said rang down through the years and she could hear, for the first time in a long time, her sister’s voice clear as a bell. The breathy way she’d always said ‘Israel’ like she could hardly contain it in her mouth, the defiant way she’d hurled it at their parents like a shield.
“No way,” Pru breathed out, but he was already standing at a window, talking with someone.
She stared at him, heart thumping. The last time she’d seen him had been the day he had come up to her in the halls and demanded the ring from her finger. She hadn’t wanted to give up the pretty delicate band. Her friends had been so nice about everything, fawning over her and resting her like a fragile thing in the days after her sister’s death. Pru had taken the ring from a tray set beside the body when they went to the funeral home.
It had been the first dead body she’d ever seen. She’d had to sit through a wake like that, twisting the ring around and around her finger. The thing in the coffin wasn’t her sister, not least because their mother had chosen some dress Pru had never seen her wear, a floral thing and her face had been painted with more makeup than Faith ever actually wore.
They’d fought and spat at each other, barely tolerant of each other’s presence, but they had also held hands in the dark and Faith had stood in front of Pru more than once, trembling as she did it, but holding firm.
And he’d just shown up and taken that small bit of her sister away from her. Pru watched him talk to the clerk. Who was he now? A man reading a book with glasses that he’d now tucked away.
Ancient bitter rage howled in her, warring against her sensible nature.
When he finished and the next name was called, Pru got to her feet and gave away her spot. She followed him out of the passport office and he seemed to know it, turning to her as soon as they were both out on the sidewalk.
“Did you go to Roosevelt?” She demanded, surprised by her own vehemence.
“About a hundred years ago,” he said warily. “Why?”
“You don’t remember me. No, of course you don’t,” she stood straighter. “My name is-”
“Prudence,” he said softly. “Jesus fuck, Pru. I thought you looked familiar.”
“I didn’t know it was you until I heard your name,” she said stiffly. “Listen. I don’t- I’m not sure what I want to say to you.”
He took a step toward the building bringing them out of the flow of foot traffic. She stepped with him. He didn’t rush her, didn’t ask a thing. Just waited for her, hands in his pockets.
“You- I was really angry back then. The way you took her ring from me. I didn’t have anything of hers left. They tossed it all, except that and her boots.”
“Didn’t know that,” Israel frowned. “Tracks though.”
“You could’ve let me had that.”
“No,” he shook his head. “I couldn’t. It was my ring to her.”
“It was?”
But as soon as the question was asked, it was answered. Of course it was. Their parents were handing out jewelry and Faith’s money was carefully saved. Pru had tried stealing a five once and Faith had noticed within hours. Instead of fighting, Faith had just coldly told her to return it and then hidden it so well that Pru didn’t find it again for months.
“Promise ring. We were going to get married.”
“She never-” Pru cut herself off. Of course Faith hadn’t told her. They hadn’t been each other’s confidantes.
“That was the plan.” And then he reached into his collar and Pru watched confused until he tugged loose a chain and there it was.
“You still have it?” Her anger melted away. She took a step closer and he let her though he watched her warily.
It was Faith’s ring. It had to be. It looked too tiny for any reasonable adult hand. Her sister had always been small. Frail. As if death had just been circling, waiting for her to fall.
“Never took it off,” he confirmed and then it was gone again. A card appeared, white and classy. She hadn’t seen a business card in years. “I’ve got to run and you’re going to miss your appointment. You want to talk, you call.”
She took the card bemused and watched him walk away. He had to be over fifty by now, decades away from the guy she’d usually heard referred to as ‘That Fucking Psycho that Your Sister Dates’.
She went back into the passport office and sat back down next to the women in the fur coat.
“Sorry,” the lady glanced up and moved her purse.
“Thank you,” Pru said numbly.
What kind of business did an ex-thug boyfriend with a face tattoo do? Pru held up the card and her breath caught in her throat.
Callahan Investigations
There was a website and she brought it up on her phone. It was simple, probably put together on one of those services where you could drag and drop things. There were three photos on the site, Izzy in a suit, with a list of qualifications. A younger person with sharp eyes, sitting on the edge of a glass desk. ‘Jim Jiminez’ apparently and an even younger person with one of those androgynous haircuts and a disconcertingly sunny smile compared to the other two ‘Read’ was the only name given.
None of them said Callahan.
He still wore her ring.
Faith had been gone since before the turn of the millennium.
Pru’s eyes stung. All these years, she’d assumed she was the only one carrying Faith’s memory. As far as Pru knew, their parents pretended that she’d never even been born until the day they died and whatever friends Faith had, hadn’t even made it to the graveside and after vague ‘sorrys’ in her direction, disappeared entirely.
“Prudence Callahan?” The agent called and Pru got to her feet.
She went through motions of bureaucracy and was grateful that she didn’t need to smile for a photo.
When she got home, Jenny was making something in the kitchen which would either be amazing or a burnt, no in between.
“That took ages,” Jenny said into a pot in the stove. “Told you should’ve gotten it started online.”
“You were right,” Pru told her and sat down heavily at the table.
“Woah, hey, what happened?”
“I saw a ghost today.”
It would take weeks before she could work herself up to send an email. She kept it bland enough. He agreed to meet her for coffee. She tapped the boots on the way out the door, too hot today to wear them, then paused.
“You were loved, girlie,” she said softly to those boots. “Hope you know that. I’m going to go say hi to your boyfriend.”
The boots said nothing back. The ring probably wouldn’t either. But Israel Hands could still talk and Pru would get memories from him that she could lock in her heart beside two girls holding hands in the dark.
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