The Summer of Lost Wishes by Jessa Gabrielle Page A

breaths.
    Mom inhales. “Frank, leave us alone,” she
demands, her voice calm and steady. “We’ve done nothing to harm you
or your family.”
    “You can’t let the dead rest!” he shouts, a
growl still present in his voice. His face contorts like a bad CGI
graphic transforming a human into a monster.
    “Frank,” Mom says sternly, stepping past me
and blocking me with her arm just like the other parents have done
to their small children. “If you come near me, my daughter, or our
property, I will not think twice about calling the police. I am not
scared of you, and you will not intimidate me. If you so much as
threaten us one more time, I will be filing a police report for
harassment, and you better not doubt me.”
    Frank mumbles something under his breath
before he stalks away, stabbing his mop into the wood like a
walking cane. Mom glances over her shoulder toward me, avoiding eye
contact with the crowd.
    “We’re going home,” she says.
    I have no argument for that.
     
    “So, are we riding in silence or are you
going to tell me who Frank is exactly?” I ask once we reach the
first red light.
    The silence is pretty much killing me by
now, and Mom hasn’t offered an explanation yet. She taps her nails
against the steering wheel and then reaches for the remainder of
her pineapple milkshake that’s melting in the cup holder. She sips
it until we reach the next light. Then she glances at me.
    “Frank is a local fisherman. Well, he was.
His family’s business went under, and last I heard, he was working
as a janitor for one of the dock owners,” she says.
    “Was he around when the accident happened?”
I ask.
    There’s no other explanation. He lashed out
about not letting the dead rest and about causing pain. Clearly
we’ve opened up some old wounds by moving in here. I just wish
those wounds belonged to someone less creepy.
    Mom nods. “He was young when it happened,
but he’s the brother of Warren Lancaster,” she says. “Not only did
he lose his brother in the most horrific way but his family fell
apart. His mom grieved herself to death. His father drank himself
to death. The business went under. Frank might as well have not
existed after Warren died.”
    I remember Warren simply because he was the
oddball of the three guys. His family owned a seafood restaurant
that he was destined to inherit. He didn’t have a path paved to the
factory life. He was going to be something bigger. I can only
imagine what the Lancasters’ business would look like today if it
continued on throughout the generations. With or without the
tragedy, they would’ve been successful.
    And maybe if his parents hadn’t given up on
life upon losing him, they could’ve been successful for him. They
could’ve honored him. Frank could have stepped up when he was old
enough. I wonder if he’s angry because he lost his family or
because his family cared so much about Warren that they let him
flounder. Either way, I understand why he’s raging.
    “I don’t think we have anything to worry
about,” Mom says to the dashboard. “He’s an old man who hasn’t
dealt with what happened. He was eight years old. I can’t really
say I blame him for turning out the way he has. In that moment, you
either sink or swim, and he sank to rock bottom with the rest of
his family. He never stood a chance.”
    I sip on the last few drops of pineapple
milkshake until the straw brings nothing through but air. I wonder
how scared I need to be of this guy.
    “Do you think he broke our window?” I ask.
It doesn’t matter what she says, though. He’s definitely my number
one suspect now.
    She shrugs. “It’s possible,” she says. “That
would explain why nothing was taken. He wants to scare us away, not
actually harm us. I don’t think he has it in him, but just in case,
don’t go to the beach alone. And keep that baseball bat near your
bed, just to ease your mind. Yes, I know Rooks gave it to you.”
    “Is that why you’re letting me