"What about Lilla?" he wanted to know.
"She's dead," he said simply. And he hitchhiked to the next town, rented a car, and returned for Lee. There were no good-byes, no tears. They checked out and drove west as fast as Hugh dared.
That night he and Peg sat in his room while Matt slept on the lumpy double bed.
"We have to do something," she said quietly. "We can't stay here forever."
She was pale, her hair without highlights, and she plucked endlessly at her shirtfront. "I'm taking Matt to my mother's for a while," she said in a rush. "I called her as soon as the news hit." She wouldn't look at him. "I had to. I couldn't let her think I was dead."
"Sure, of course." But why didn't you tell me?
She did look then. "I want you to come with us," she said. "I really do. But I can't let you just now." She shook her head. "These things are supposed to bring people closer together."
"Disasters do," he said. "I'm not sure about nightmares."
"I don't dream."
"Neither do I."
"Don't be mad."
"I won't be. This isn't like a plane crash, or a flood, or something like that. I'm…I'm trying to figure out how I feel, and I don't know. But, Peg, I can't go. Not until I'm sure."
"That's stupid," she said angrily. "It's done, for God's sake. It's done and I want to get away."
"Then do take the boy to your mother's," he said reasonably. "Take him, and I'll keep in touch."
They rose, embraced and kissed, and he still loved her. But he didn't try to change her mind. He only helped her get on a bus, watched as she climbed aboard and disappeared into the polarized dark. Matt stood beside him, holding his hand.
"You aren't going to forget me?"
"Hey, pal, you want me to shave your head?"
He smiled, of a sort. "You won't stay very long, will you? Mom's real sad you won't come. Me, too. I thought we were gonna be a family now." He frowned his puzzlement. "You gotta stay?"
"Just till I'm sure, pal, just till I'm sure."
Peg called to him softly as the bus's engine belched exhaust.
"Then listen," Matt said, pulling on his arm until he was kneeling beside him. They hugged, and Colin kissed his cheek, hugged him again. "Listen, I think everybody wasn't right about Lilla. She didn't let them get me. She really didn't."
"I know, I know." He stood. "You practice your drawing now, you hear? You be sure your grandmother lets you practice."
"I'll draw Lilla."
"A tree, the gulls, but I don't think your mother would appreciate a picture of Lilla now."
He pouted. "Nobody listened to me," he said almost angrily. "I kept saying she was a witch, but nobody listened."
They'd been over this ground a dozen times already, and Colin had exhausted himself trying to make the boy see that just because she befriended him didn't make her a saint. But he'd been too put upon by the other kids, for his art and his looks, and it wasn't surprising that he grabbed affection where he could.
"Time, pal," he said instead, and helped the boy up the steps.
And the following day Colin was gone as well, driving in a rented car toward Maine, not very far each day, less as each day passed, until as last he couldn't stand not knowing and returned to the motel.
From gossip and papers he learned of the inquiries, the few unanswered questions no one seemed to care about since the island wasn't a place people worried about for long. There had been funerals for the few bodies found in the burned houses and along the shore of the bay. And those who had left before, left again because rumor had it the island was haunted. Flocks laughed, albeit uneasily; fire and wind was better than anything resembling magic.
Lee and Hugh returned two weeks later. They walked into his room, he embraced Lee and shook Hugh's hand, and they said nothing because there was nothing to say.
The watch began on Christmas Eve.
Peg and Matt returned the day after Christmas, and there were smiles and laughter and an exchange of simple presents. He rode each day to the landing and watched the island turn to winter.
Three hours.
He lowered the binoculars and let himself sigh as loudly as he could, as though at last the nightmare were expelled from his lungs. No boats had gone there, no sign of life, nothing at all.
He supposed it was a form of therapy, and he didn't mind that it had taken so long. Tonight he was going to treat them all to the best dinner he could afford, and they would sleep without lights, and tomorrow they would leave this damned place behind.
He dragged the nail keg back to the shed, and after a moment's thought buried the gull by the threshold. Then he returned to his spot and looked at the place where he'd thought he'd found a home, and understood-he hoped-that his home was at the motel with Peg.
What the hell, he thought, grinning; started over once, I can start over again.
He turned, then, and saw Matt standing at the top of the slope.
He didn't know whether to scold or laugh… laughed when the boy raced into his arms, hugged him and held his hand.
"We couldn't wait," he said eagerly. "We couldn't wait!"
Colin crouched and faced the water, and Matt stood behind him with his chin on the man's shoulder, his arms around Colin's chest. He felt tears in his eyes, and felt so damned fine he wanted to shout.
"There," he said, pointing to Haven's End, "is where you and I met, pal, and that's the way we should remember it."
"Are we going to live somewhere else?"
"What do you think about New England?"
"Is it pretty? Does it have an ocean?"
"Yes, yes, and there are mountains and lots of deer and moose and bear and raccoons, and it's going to be just… just great."
"You'll paint again!" Matt said excitedly.
"You can bet on it."
"The kids…"
Colin reached up and cupped the back of the boy's head. "I won't let them make fun of you, Matt. You do just what you always do, and I'll be there to help you." Then he rose, stretched and imagined the others waiting, just over the rise. God, it'll be great to be human again.
"You and me, we'll take care of Mom, too." He lifted the binoculars; one last check before the end.
"And I'll take care of you."
He closed his eyes tightly, opened them, blinked and watched the island through the snow.
"I miss Lilla," Matt said forlornly. "She was my friend."
"I know, pal. I know."
He had to wipe flakes from the lenses with his gloves, and the view was slightly blurred. "Can I look?"
One last sweep of the dead island, and he slipped the strap from around his neck, handed the binoculars to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder. "Not too long," he said. "Your mother's waiting for us, remember?"
Matt nodded, and looked, and when he'd had enough he took Colin's hand and they walked back to the road. Peg was standing by the car, Hugh and Lee inside grinning. Colin waved, felt a surge and broke into a run.
Matt followed more slowly, stopping once. Turning around. Wondering if Colin had seen Lilla standing in the trees. Standing and smiling, her lips moving in silent singing. If he had, it didn't matter. Lilla was his friend now, and some day he'd be big enough to come back here on his own.
Some day he would ask her to teach him her songs.