I hopped up and did as he said. “Here you go, Mr. R.”
He thanked me and then invited me to sit next to him. I sat.
He opened his beer and took a few sips. “So you and Maggie, huh?”
I swallowed hard, knowing that it was about to happen—the girlfriend’s father conversation. “Yes, sir.” Sir? In all my years of knowing Mr. Riley, I’d never called him sir. Heck, I’d never called any person sir.
He pulled in his fishing line and then cast it farther out into the water. “I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, if I’m honest. Maggie’s my little girl. She’s always going to be my little girl.”
“I get that completely.”
“And Maggie is unlike other girls, so you can understand my reluctance on the subject of her being in a relationship. I’ve actually gone back and forth on the subject with Katie. Part of me was going to come out here on the boat today and ask you to break things off with her—because of Katie. She truly thinks it’s an awful idea.”
How could I reply to that? Knowing Maggie’s own mother didn’t support our relationship felt like a punch in the gut, but before I could reply, Mr. Riley spoke again.
“But as I was getting my fishing rods from the upstairs storage closet, I heard you two. What I mean is, I heard her. She laughs with you. She actually laughs out loud, and I can’t for the life of me think of the last time I heard that sound from her. So, as long as you keep my little girl laughing, you’ll have my blessing.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you, sir.”
“No problem.” He chugged the rest of his beer. “But the moment she stops laughing with you, we’re going to have a serious talk. If you ever hurt my daughter”—he looked me dead in the eyes and crushed the can in his hand—“well, let’s just say, don’t hurt my daughter.”
My eyes widened with fear. “I won’t hurt her, and you were right about what you said—Maggie’s not like other girls.”
He released the threatening stare from his eyes, and his old happy-go-lucky smile was back. He patted me on the back. “Now go have a good time.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“Brooks?”
“Yes?”
“Call me sir one more time and we’ll have to have another talk that won’t have such a happy ending.”
After the boating trip, Calvin and I convinced Mr. Riley to let us come with him when it was time to sell old faithful. We pulled up to the coastline, where James’ Boat Shop was located right off of Harper Lake. Even though it was the same lake that we fished on, it was still a good twenty-minute drive around the coast, seeing how the lake was that large. James’ Boat Shop had a big wooden sign out front that read: We buy, sell, rent, and trade.
On the front porch was a dog that barked and barked as the three of us walked up the steps to meet up with James.
“You’re a loud pup, huh?” Mr. Riley smiled at the dog who still howled, but wagged his tail.
The screen door opened, and a tall, buff man stepped outside, wearing jeans and a shirt that looked too small. “Quiet, Wilson! Shh!” The man smiled at us. “Don’t mind Wilson, he’s all bark and no bite. I’ve been trying everything to get that mutt to shut up for the past eight years, but I haven’t had any luck.”
“No worries,” Mr. Riley replied. “I’ve been trying to get these two kids to shut up for the past few years, too, with no luck.”
The guy smiled and held out his hand. “I’m James Bateman. I’m guessing you’re Eric from our phone conversation. So that must be your baby,” he said, gesturing toward the boat hooked up to Mr. Riley’s truck. He walked over to the boat and started rubbing it down. “You sure you don’t want to do a trade maybe? I could get you something real nice for this girl.”
Mr. Riley grimaced. “No, thanks. We could really use the extra cash—at least that’s what the wife told me.”
“Ah, it’s best to always listen to your wife.” He laughed.
Mr. Riley chuckled. “The great struggles of marriage.”
“I know the struggle too well. That’s why I’ll probably never do it again after my wife left me.”
“I thought the same thing after my first wife left, but here I am again.” Mr. Riley smiled, looking down at his wedding band.
“No regrets?” James asked.
“Never,” Mr. Riley replied. “Even on the hard days.”
James snickered, nodding. He patted Mr. Riley on the back. “You give me hope that maybe someday my situation will change. So, how about we head inside and talk numbers?” He turned toward his shop and shouted, “Michael! Michael, get out here for a second.”
A young guy came outside. He looked to be in his early twenties. “Yeah?”
“Can you show these two boys some of our top of the line boats while I work with a customer? Boys,” James redirected his words to Calvin and me. “My son will take care of you and keep you entertained. Michael, how about you show them around Jenna for a few?”
“Sure thing.” Michael smiled and waved us over to him. “So, interested in seeing the best yacht that no one in Harper County can actually afford to buy?” he asked.
“Heck yeah,” Calvin replied. “Is it the kind of yacht Leonardo DiCarpio would party on?”
“Sure is. My dad and I actually went out of our way to get a boat like Jenna. She’s not for sale because she’s our pride and joy, but a few people from the north side of town rent her out every now and then for weddings, or retirement parties.” The north side of town was where all of Harper County’s money was located. A person had to have a nice sized wallet to live on that side of town.
When we walked around the corner there were dozens of boats docked up. There were workers running around caring for the boats. I’d never been in a place with so many different sized water vehicles, and I wanted to take them all home with me. My top three favorite things in the world were Maggie, music, and being out on the water. Someday I planned to have all three of those things happening at the same time.
“Holy crap,” I muttered, staring at Jenna. It had to be Jenna. She was the biggest and most beautiful boat out there. Maggie would’ve probably slapped me for staring the way I did.
“She’s something else, huh?” Michael asked.
“Oh, she’s more than something.” I rubbed her side as we walked over to her.
“Wait until you climb aboard.” Michael laughed.
When we were on the yacht, I felt as if I were Leonardo—rich and cool as hell.
“So, this babe comes with all kinds of water sports equipment. We have a Yamaha WaveRunner Jet Ski, a Kawasaki Ultra 250 Jet Ski, and one Kawasaki Super Jet stand up Jet Ski. There’s snorkeling gear, fishing supplies, and all that jazz, too. As far as entertainment.” Michael walked us below deck and smiled before opening a set of doors. “We only have the best. We have this area, the main saloon with a sixty-five-inch plasma television. Over here we have the sky lounge with two full bars. Then there are the master stateroom, the VIP cabin, and the three guest cabins which all hold fifty-inch plasma televisions and the most comfortable beds you’ll ever sleep on. What do you guys think?” he asked.
Calvin’s eyes were bugged out the same way mine were.
“So, this is what royalty feels like.” Calvin sighed. “I love royalty.”
“We’ll take it,” I bellowed.
Michael took us to the top deck, and we stood at the nose of the boat.
“So, Michael, you and your dad just run this business together?”
“Yeah. He took on the business from my grandpa. I plan to do the same someday. There’s nothing I love more than this, the boats, the water.”
“There’s nothing else you’d ever want to do?” Calvin asked.
Michael’s eyebrows grew closer as he thought on it. “No. Nothing else. After my mom ran off with another man Dad had a hard time moving on. He went into a deep depression. I was fourteen and remember there being days when I had to force him to eat. He blamed himself for her leaving.”
“Why did he blam
e himself?”
“I really don’t know. He worked long hours, and I knew it bothered her, but that wasn’t a reason to leave him. Yeah, they fought, but they laughed more. Yet sometimes people aren’t always who you believe them to be, and it turned out we were better off without her. He’ll never say that, though. He still keeps a picture of the three of us on his office desk. Some days I feel as if he’s waiting for her to come back. The only thing that helped him heal was being out on the water. It cleansed him, I think. If it weren’t for this place, I probably would’ve lost my father, too. This place is home to me. What about you guys? What do you want to do?”
“Music,” we said in unison.
Michael laughed. “Well, don’t stop until you make it. Then, you come rent out Jenna from me and my pops.”
“I apologize ahead of time for my childish actions that are about to take place, but I have to do it,” my best friend stated. Calvin jumped up onto the railings and held his arms out.
I laughed. “I always knew you’d be Kate Winslet and I’d be Leo in this situation.”
“Shut up and hug me!” Calvin said mockingly.
I hopped up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’ll never let go, Cal!” I shouted as he held his arms out.
Michael chuckled. “I wish I could tell you the amount of Titanic bromances I’ve witnessed on that railing.”
“Bromance?” Calvin questioned. “Oh no, we’re in a committed relationship.”
Michael’s eyes widened with guilt. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”
“Don’t mind Calvin, he’s a liar. I’m actually banging his sister.” I smirked, watching Calvin grimace as he shoved me away from him, forcing me to hop down.
He jumped down, too. “If I ever hear words about my sister being banged again from you, there’s a good chance you won’t be alive shortly after.”
“Touché.” I would’ve been lying if I said I didn’t like getting under his skin like that. He hated all conversations that included talk of his sister being kissed by me—so banging was really crossing the line. That’s why I always made them.
17
Maggie
Every time Brooks delivered a book back to me, I raced through it to see his added tabs with his notes and thoughts included. We started doing this regularly, and each time a book returned to my bookshelf with more Post-its than before, I felt as if Brooks was becoming more and more a part of my world. He must’ve felt the same every time I played a chord right. I had recently played “Mary Had a Little Lamb” using one finger at a time to strum, and he’d just about cried with excitement.
After being with him, my idea of what love was changed.
I’d fallen in love with hundreds of different men from hundreds of different books. I had thought I knew what love looked like based on the words within those pages. Love was togetherness, strength, and something worth living for.
What I didn’t expect were the fears true love brought with it. The fear that I’d never be enough for him. The fear that he’d find another. The fear that sometimes love was worth dying for. The fear that love wasn’t always enough. Loving someone meant being vulnerable to the chance that someday they might leave, and all I ever wanted was for Brooks to stay.
I tapped him gently on the shoulder, and he stirred from his sleep. Sleeping? I wrote once he seemed awake enough to read.
“Sleeping,” he replied with a tiny smirk. “Overthinking?”
He knew me so well. My lips brushed against his ear before I moved to kiss his neck.
Do you promise me the same type of love I’ve read about in my books?
He shook his head, yawning. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer as I became engulfed by his warmth. “No, Maggie May. I promise you so much more.”
18
Maggie
“You’re actually drinking your tea,” Mrs. Boone said, flabbergasted on a Monday afternoon at lunchtime. “You never drink your tea.”
What could I say? Love makes us do ridiculous things.
“It’s that boy, isn’t it?” she asked with an arched eyebrow. “Is he the reason you’ve been acting like a giddy schoolgirl each time I come to visit?”
I kept sipping my tea.
She smirked knowingly and continued eating her sandwich.
“Oh my gosh! I know what I want to do with my life!” Cheryl hollered, running into the dining room and jumping up and down with her hands waving wildly while holding a book. “I know what I want to be after I graduate school next year!”
“Well, out with it,” Mrs. Boone ordered.
Cheryl paused her erratic movements and stood up straight, holding her novel to her chest. “I want to be an activist.”
Mrs. Boone and I raised our eyebrows in wonderment, waiting for Cheryl to finish her sentence. “An activist of…?” Mrs. Boone asked.
Cheryl blinked once. “What do you mean?”
“You have to be an activist of something. Environmental issues, or politics, human rights, or perhaps animal cruelty. Anything. You can’t just be an activist.”
Cheryl poked out her bottom lip. “Seriously? I can’t just be an activist?”
We shook our heads. “Well, fuck—err—I mean frick. Sorry Mrs. Boone. I guess I’ll go try to find out what kind of activist I want to be. Ugh. It just sounds like more work than I wanted to do, though.” She glided from the room significantly less enthusiastic than when she’d entered, making both Mrs. Boone and me laugh.
“I swear, your parents must’ve fed you kids stupidity for breakfast each day. It blows my mind how idiotic you all are.” She picked up her sandwich and was a second away from biting into it when she said, “Wait, was Cheryl holding a book?”
I nodded.
She dropped her sandwich, shaking her head back and forth. “I knew the end of the world was coming. I just didn’t know it would be so soon.”
I giggled to myself and kept drinking my tea.
It didn’t taste so bad that afternoon.
“You’re not listening to me, Eric, I just want to make sure we’re doing the right thing,” Mama said to Daddy later that night as he paced the living room. She held a glass of wine in her hand and sipped at it while speaking to him. I sat at the top of the stairs with Cheryl beside me. “Maggie dating Brooks might not be the best thing for anyone. Loren said—”
Daddy snickered sarcastically. “‘Loren said’. Jesus, of course. You know, for a second I believed they didn’t get to you when they came to visit, but it seems I was wrong. I should’ve known this had something to do with those women.”
“Those women are my friends.”
“Those women couldn’t care less about you, Katie. You think they come here to hang out with you because they care? They come here to mock you, to tell you to think about moving, knowing you can’t. To see how your life is so fucking depressing compared to their perfect lives, which is fine, but when they sit all night talking about our daughter—”
“They meant no harm. They were giving me information on how to help her.”
“They were belittling her!” he shouted. Cheryl and I both jumped out of fright. Daddy never shouted. I’d never seen his face so red in my life. “They were belittling her, insulting her as if she were deaf and couldn’t hear them. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you let those women into our house to gossip about your own daughter, or the fact you that you stood up for Maggie just to take it back a few days later. You’re sitting here worrying about her having a boyfriend when she’s the happiest I’ve seen her in years. You’d see it too if you actually looked at her.”
“I look at her.”
“You look, but you don’t see, Katie, and then you invite those trolls to our house, and they talk about Maggie as if she’s nothing.”
“She is something. Don’t you see? This is why I want to try the therapist Wendy—”
“She’s happy, Katie!”
“She’s sick!”
“She’s getting be
tter right in front of us, and it’s like you secretly don’t want her to. Don’t you want her to leave? To live?”
Mama hesitated before saying, “But Loren—”
“Enough!” he hollered, swinging his hands in annoyance and accidentally knocking the wine from Mama’s hand, sending her glass to the carpet where it shattered.
The room went quiet.
Daddy took off his glasses and rubbed the palms of his hands against his eyes before placing his hands on his waist. The two stared at the red stain on the carpet, the same type of accidental spill that used to happen before, when they were happier together, before I began to break their love apart.
Without any more words, they went their separate ways.
“What just happened?” Cheryl whispered, her body shaking slightly.
I took her shaky hand into mine to try to calm her nerves.
In that moment, I was happy I didn’t speak, because otherwise I would’ve had to tell Cheryl the truth. I knew what was happening to our parents: they were falling out of love right in front of my sister and me.
Falling out of love meant you couldn’t laugh at mistakes.
Falling out of love meant you screamed your irritations.
Falling out of love meant going your separate ways.
“A box of goodies for Maggie May,” Brooks said later that night, standing in my doorway.
I smiled his way, uncertain of what he had in mind. He walked into my room and sat on the floor, placing the box in front of him. He patted the floor, inviting me to join him.
What did he have planned?
“It’s a taste test,” he explained as I sat down. “Since you can’t speak, I want to at least know everything else about you—the way you react to certain things, your expressions—so we are doing a blind food taste test. In this box are random foods—some sweet, some mushy, some sour as hell—and you are going to taste them. Then, we are going to switch.”
I smiled, not sure how I could love this boy any more than I already did. He held up a blindfold and leaned forward, tying it around my eyes. “Okay. Can you see me?” he asked. I shook my head. “Okay, good. Now part your lips.”
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