I head out the road and pull up out front of Grace’s house. Chester leaps with excitement from the front porch and meets me at the car door.
“Hey, Chester,” I say as I pat the top of his head. “Is your mom home?” He wags his tail with excitement.
I knock on the front door, and I hear a soft, silky voice ring out, “Come in.”
“Hi, Grace. It’s just me,” I say weakly, stepping inside.
“Cammie, dear. How are you?” She stands and meets me near the door to give me a hug. She pulls away and places her hands on my shoulders, searching my face. After a thorough examination, she nods with some way of understanding. “Let me put some tea on.”
With that, she turns and walks her way into the kitchen, placing a bright-red tea kettle on the stove. “What brings you here?” Grace asks, her back still to me.
“I’ve decided to move home.”
Grace nods.
“I, I don’t know why I felt like I needed to tell you. I’m not really sure what else to say,” Suddenly realizing I have no business being out here.
She turns to me, leaning her hips against the countertop. “Seems to me you have pretended this feels like the right decision, but somewhere inside you, you don’t feel at peace.” She crosses her arms. “Does Jake know?”
I shake my head, avoiding her watchful eye.
“You need to stay and tell him. You owe him that,” she says without emotion, just as though she is stating a fact.
“I can’t,” My voice cracks and my checks flush embarrassment. “You should have seen how angry he was with me.”
She stands, nodding as though she understands how I’ve hurt him. She knows him better than anyone. She has to understand why I can’t stay.
“Dear, you can’t keep running away from love. Not forever.”
I try to speak, but she places a hand up in my direction, so I let her finish.
“I understand there are things that must have hurt you, I think it is the only logical explanation for why we fear the outcome of love,” She drops her hand to her side. “Everything is terminal. Everything comes to an end,” she smiles moving toward her seat at the table. “Love is about enjoying it while it lasts. It’s about throwing yourself in entirely and not shying away out of fear,” I sit beside her and she clasps my hand in hers. “I don’t think you have lost this love yet. This love with Jake isn’t over.”
The tea kettle whistles and Grace stands to take it off, slowly pouring it into two mugs. “I think you can either throw yourself in completely, or you can walk away. I’m concerned that you seem to lean toward the comfort of feeling you have control in a situation where you really don’t,” She places a mug in front of me. “Either way, hurt occurs. Either way, you lose,” she smiles graciously in my direction before taking a sip. “I don’t want you to pretend one way will hurt less than the other, because you and I both know that just isn’t true.”
I know Grace is right, but it doesn’t change who I am. It doesn’t change the comfort I find in running away rather than losing myself entirely. I don’t speak any more on the subject other than to tell her, “I just wanted you to know.”
She nods in understanding, and we continue to recap about my time in Smuggler’s Cove. We share stories and bits of laughter. Grace has a witty sense of humor and is quick as a whip; I’d never understood the saying until I had a conversation with her. I smile, but worry starts to take over as this may be the last time I see her. She’s been more like a mother to me than my own mother was ever able to be.
Once I’ve overstayed my welcome, I stand to leave. She walks me to the door and pulls me in for another hug.
“I want you to know,” I whisper against her curly, graying hair, “I really do love him.”
She pulls me away so she can look in my face, tears welling in my eyes. “I know,” she says with a slow nod of her head.
“I’ll come visit you,” I say weakly, knowing I probably won’t. She waves me off anyway.
“We can FaceTime or whatever it’s called,” she says, pointing at her smartphone that is perched precariously on the edge of the counter over the trash bin.
I smile and wave my final goodbye, taking in the feel of her home. How, for some time, it made me feel like I was home.
I wrap my arms around Grace. “Will you just let him know I love him,” I clear my throat. “That I always will?”
She pulls away and looks as though she may put up a fight. She searches my face and decides against it. Maybe it was the tears threatening to spill over or the desperate look across my face, but she nods in agreement. I close the door softly behind me and pat Chester on the head as I say goodbye. He doesn’t get up, as if he’s reminding me I’m a quitter.
I get in Hilary’s car and continue my drive out the road. I pull into the long driveway and park outside Jake’s garage. I walk down the long, winding path through the woods until I see Jake’s home. I know he isn’t there, but I feel I can’t leave this place without him knowing how I feel.
I walk around the front of the house and onto the deck and look over the ocean before letting myself inside. I decide to write him a letter, an explanation as to why I’ve left, as if there is any real reason to do so.
Jake,
* * *
Thank you for loving me and showing me how love is supposed to feel. I wanted you to know, I love you, too.
I’ve decided to leave tomorrow morning. I don’t think you’ll see this before I go, but I wanted to thank you for all you have shown me, the beautiful sights, the adventure, but most importantly, love. These last few weeks have been very real to me. I had childishly hoped it would last forever, but if I’ve been taught anything in my life, it’s that nothing lasts forever.
In another life, I know we would be together. Even though I’m leaving, I know I won’t ever be able to leave the memory of you. I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person you needed me to be, but I’m broken, Jake, and I’m sorry.
I need you to know, no matter what, I’m with you. Every step of the way.
* * *
Cammie
I leave the letter on his kitchen counter and soak in the memories of this place as they dance through my mind. My hand skims along the surfaces where we made love, slept, ate. I breathe in the familiar scent of Jake, of sea salt and cedar, and feel the laughter and emotion of this place erode my walls.
A glimmer of doubt cascades into guilt and fear. You’re doing the right thing, I remind myself. You’ll be okay.
With a final, tearful goodbye, I leave.
Twenty-Three
Jake
Being out in the field has been the break I’ve needed from the chaos of the relationship I have with Cammie. I want to be the one she needs, the one she lets protect her, the person she tells all her fears to but I can’t be, not when she keeps pushing me away.
“You okay, man?” Ryan asks.
“Yep,” I say, swinging the ax into another log of wood. I’ve spent the better part of the day chopping firewood to help us dry out our gear.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Nope,” I say, taking another swing and splitting the wood in half.
I can’t be the only one to try, the only person to give themself over entirely. She’s got to show me she’s trying, otherwise I’m preparing for my own demise. Like walking into a battlefield without any armor.
Sweat drips down my face and I brush my forearm across my forehead to dry it off. Working off frustration has always helped me process my thoughts, figure out the purpose of the chaos I’ve inducted myself to. I’ve held my ground, steady and unwavering, taking whatever it is she’s willing to throw in my direction. I’ve been there every step of the way, and she’s chosen someone else.
So why can’t I move on, I wonder.
“Dude, if you keep sighing over there,” Ryan huffs. “I’m going to make you start talking.”
I drop the ax and sit beside Ryan, taking a swig
of water. “I lost, man. I’m working out how to move on.”
I can see him nod out of my peripherals highlighted by the glow of the fire. “I don’t know Jake Davis to be a man who gives up on something he wants.”
I scoff, taking another sip of water. “I don’t know what else to do,” I lock my elbows against my knees. “The more I try, the more she pushes me away.”
Ryan’s hardy chuckle fills the eerie silence out here in the wilderness. I turn to look at him wondering what’s funny about what I’ve shared. He pats a hand against my shoulder, tilting his head back in more of a roar of laughter.
“What’s so funny, dick,” I ask.
“Ah, man,” He wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “The answer’s obvious isn’t it?”
I stare at him, brow drawn, dumbstruck. “How is it obvious?”
He smiles over at me a confident nod before he speaks again, “remember coming out here with our dads as kids?”
“Yeah,” I say, not sure where he’s going with this.
“All those damn campfires where we’d sit around and they’d give us advice about life.” He stokes the fire. “From work, to family, and then love. Knowing what was worth it and when it wasn’t.”
I remember the talks well, our dads teasing one another as they’d gang up on us. “We were young once too,” my dad would say. The idea of either of our parents being young seemed wrong at the time.
“I was pretty young, I don’t remember it,” I say.
“Yeah right,” Ryan waves me off. “You and I both remember the time I’m talking about. Right before your dad’s accident.”
We’d gone out for our annual survival trip, a tool my dad was set on teaching us as young boys so we’d know how to fend for ourselves should anything happen. One of the best lessons my dad taught me was how to take care of myself so I could take care of others.
“You can’t save others if your ship’s sinking, son,” He’d say, his voice boisterous. I’d never understood what he’d meant.
We’d created shelter out of leaves and trees limbs, stoked a fire, and were looking for food. Scanning the low tide for any sea-creatures when my dad pulled me aside.
“Life’s a lot like going out to sea, son. You hope for the best and prepare for the worst,” I remember looking up toward him, unsure of where he was going. “Your boat starts taking on water, what do you do?”
“Bail it out,” I answer.
“Then what?”
“Call for help, shoot off a flare.”
“Right,” He’d nod and smile. “Say you’ve called for help, shot off your flare and no one’s coming. Then what?”
I remember not knowing the answer, so he guided me forward.
“Do you stop bailing out the water and say, oh well, we tried,” he asked.
“No,” I shouted, laughing at the absurdity.
“Right,” he’d smile again. “So, then what do you do?”
I remember thinking about it for some time before answering, “get your life jacket on. Prepare to go in the water.”
“Yep, sure thing,” he clapped his hand against my back. “You do whatever it takes to keep your ship from sinking, no matter what. You hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”
I smiled, pleased with myself for passing another one of his survival tests but then the real meaning began seeping through.
“Relationships are a lot like going out to sea,” he’d said. I remember looking at him puzzled by his words. “When things begin to go south, you don’t give up and toss in the towel, you fight.” Emotion rarely gripped my dad but it did then. “When someone is important enough, you’ll find a way to keep them safe, to keep you both from drowning.”
“Wh-what if it’s not enough?” I stuttered.
“If it’s love, you’ll find away,” he winked and we continued walking. That was the only time in my life I’d ever seen behind the strong, picturesque version of my parents relationship. They were soulmates, sinking was never an option.
“Hard times are inevitable,” he smiled. “Learn to weather the storm.”
“Learn to weather the storm,” I repeat the words and look over at Ryan who’s nods in understanding.
“I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, and I know the fight she’s put up, but Jake, some women are worth it,” Ryan says, standing to grab a beer.
I’d forgotten a lot of my dad’s lessons over the years as the memories fade and new experiences take over. Ryan jogging my memory has flooded back life lessons I thought I’d embodied when really I was sinking myself, losing myself in my frustration.
She’d never had what I did. Cammie never felt unconditional love whereas it was given freely to me. The concept seems foreign and so she expects me to need something in return when really, I only want her.
I need her giving me a hard time, her laughter, the adventures we’ll have. I want her beside me no matter what life faces us with. I want to share my fears with her as much as I want her to share hers with me.
“I need her,” I say.
“Well, then I suppose you better go tell her how you feel.” Ryan says.
Nighttime has fallen over the bay, so we’ll have to wait till morning. No matter how defeated I feel, I’m not going to give up without a fight. I’m not going to let our ship sink, not without doing everything I can to keep us afloat.
Twenty-Four
Cammie
I spend the rest of the afternoon packing my few bags of belongings before changing into my work clothes for my final shift at the Fish House.
Hilary and I haven’t spoken much since this morning. I think she’s reeling and trying to find an excuse to make me stay. Unfortunately, I don’t think there is one. It isn’t fair to stay here and claim Jake’s home as mine. He has to be here to take care of his mom, he doesn’t need the constant reminder of what could’ve been.
I walk into the Fish House, which is packed full, and find Jace, he just looks at me, shaking his head. “I already heard and I’m pissed.”
The corners of my lips tick upward. “Jace.”
He places a hand up in my direction. “Save it.”
I smile. “I’m going to miss you,” I say as I come around the bar to give him a hug.
“Don’t leave, Cammie,” he says, gesturing around the pub. “This is your home. We are your family.” I nod, knowing inside myself he’s right.
“I don’t think I have another choice,” I say and Jace rolls his eyes. “Thanks for being my family,” I say as I pull him in for a hug.
I release him before wrapping an apron around my waist and getting to work. The place is crowded and full of familiar faces. I’ve been expediting food and taking drink orders, it’s been bustling all night. People have been nice and friendly all evening but this is just how the people of Smuggler’s Cove are.
As if I’ve jinxed myself, Samantha walks through the doors with her shoulder-length blonde hair and evil eyes searching for mine. Once she lands on mine, she makes a beeline for me.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, doing everything I can to remain professional.
“Just my usual,” she says with a sinister smile plastered across her face.
I place her drink on the bar top, careful not to spill it this time, and watch as she turns and leaves. I exhale a breath of relief before I realize she has placed her drink down on a table and returned back to me.
“I just wanted to say,” She leans across the bar top, lowering her voice. “He really could do so much better than you.”
I try and speak, but her voice topples over mine. “Everyone here is nice, but everyone realizes that you aren’t one of us. You never will be. It’s only a matter of time before Jake sees it, too.”
My face fumes with heat. I can hardly hear the words she speaks as my heart starts to pound. I don’t have to take this anymore, I think.
She continues to rattle off insults but I interject, “Samantha,” I shout and she startles at my raised voice. “You have been
awful to me since I arrived. Some of the things you have said to me have hurt but you know what I’ve realized? You are truly a miserable person.” She looks taken aback, but I continue. “And you know what? Jake wouldn’t want someone like you even if I weren’t in the picture.”
My words seem to have stung as her face flushes and her eyes fill with tears. “But you know what?” I lean in, lowering my voice. “Lucky for you, I leave tomorrow. Good luck and screw off,” I say, flipping her off.
I watch as she turns and goes, and I look over the bar at the sound of a slow clap. It’s Alan, sitting there completely hammered with his bright, rosy cheeks.
“Good on you, girly! Shesarealbitch,” he says, his words slurred together.
I smile to myself as I make a mental note not to serve Alan any more drinks this evening. Hilary comes and wraps an arm around my waist. “You doing okay?”
“Yep,” I say as I grab ice from the machine. Hilary places a sloppy kiss on my cheek before returning to bus tables.
I look around the bar and take in the laughter of towns people. I breathe in the smell of salt, and musk from being enclosed in a small space. Admiring how the windows fog up due to the warmth of those inside, collecting dew on the window panes. I smile to myself as I watch people huddle around small tabletops, shoulder to shoulder. People embracing each other after a day on the water. These people are filled with love for their community, their land, and each other.
“Yep, I sure am going to miss this place,” I say to myself.
The rest of the night goes off without a hitch. Alan has passed out on the bar top, and I let him sleep soundly while I clean up and stack chairs. Hilary has started playing some music in the background, creating a mellow vibe throughout the Fish House. I take in the space where I was taught so much and where I was provided with opportunities I never would have dreamed of a year ago.
Every Step of the Way: (Smugglers Cove #1) Page 19