by Jenny Hale
“Thank you for being here,” she said into his shirt, her words broken but his embrace making her feel a little better for the moment. Hallie pulled back. “I hate that it was this situation that brought us back together, but I’m glad it did. We haven’t seen each other in months. That’s not like us.” She’d wanted to hear his voice so many times over those months, but in every instance that she’d considered calling him she hadn’t, because she thought she should be strong enough to deal with her own problems. But even when she’d decided not to tell him what was going on, she ached to have her best friend there to talk to. She’d think about it in the middle of the night, but couldn’t call then… “Why did we let time get away from us?”
Ben took a step back, and she let go of him.
He looked over the car, to somewhere in the distance. “Life, you know?” he said, his face full of thoughts.
“Yeah…”
Suddenly, the words tumbled out like they’d been waiting to erupt from her heart this whole time. “I wish we could spend time together with nothing hanging over us.” She longed for the days when they were young, when they had their whole lives ahead of them. “I love being with you because you don’t want anything more than what we have, and it makes me feel safe.”
Ben held her gaze. He didn’t have to say anything because after all their years together, she knew he understood.
“Hey, baby girl. You doin’ okay?” Hallie’s older sister Sydney said from behind them. She stepped up next to Hallie and rubbed her back, her consoling eyes having met a few tears this morning as well.
Hallie took in a jagged breath and gave her sister a sympathetic half-smile. They would get through this, she told herself, although she wasn’t sure she believed it. Hallie piled her long hair onto her head to combat the sweltering weather. The heat was so strong today that she could see it as it danced off the long winding asphalt drive, rising into the sky in hazy waves and disappearing amidst the view of the surrounding hills.
“Ben! I want to ride with you!”
Sydney’s seven-year-old son Robby came running out, hopping excitedly in front of Ben. Like Hallie, he’d been by Ben’s side all day, until Sydney had made him sit down for breakfast before they got on the road. Ben took him by the hands and spun him around, Robby’s feet flying, his laughter floating into the air, the sound like angels singing in the hollows of Hallie’s mind. When Ben set him down again, Robby wrapped his arms around his waist.
“I think you’re gonna go with your mom,” Ben told him. “But we’re all heading to the same place.”
Robby pulled away and pretended to pout, but his face brightened right up involuntarily around Ben. “Will you show me the new fishing pole you bought?”
“Of course I will! I was planning to have you fish with it.” He lunged toward him with his fingers in the Tickle Monster position, the way he always did with Robby, making Robby dart out of the way with a giggle, the boy’s light brown hair fanning across his forehead with the movement.
“And can we play football?” Robby asked, still snickering as he ducked Ben’s arm.
“Absolutely.”
Robby maneuvered around them and climbed through the last open door of Mama’s car, wriggling into a comfortable position in the backseat next to a blow-up donut and a bag of sand toys. He pulled the seatbelt out and attempted to fasten it, his little hands sweaty in the heat, causing him to struggle to secure it. Ben walked over and helped him.
“Will you ride with us, Ben? Please?” Robby asked.
“If I ride with you, then that means Hallie will have to drive my jeep, and you remember what it was like when she tried to take it to the store that one night?”
“That was a whole year ago,” Hallie said, having nothing better to retort, glad for the lighter conversation, the pain shifting to the back of her mind for just a moment, giving her much-needed relief.
“And how many stick shifts have you driven since then? You need me!” He winked at her.
Yes. She certainly did.
“If you want me to get there, Robby, I have to drive.”
Hallie made a face at him, but she knew he was only teasing her to make Robby smile.
“Honey, did Nana seem like she was about finished inside?” Sydney asked.
Robby shrugged.
“I’ll go check on her,” Sydney said.
They’d all finished packing, but Mama had kept going back in, announcing things they “needed,” but sooner or later, Mama too would have to face the road ahead. They were all just letting her prepare herself to do that in her own way.
Sydney went into the house and brought Mama outside onto the porch. Beau barked from Ben’s jeep. Ben had taken the top off of his vehicle, and the lab-spaniel mix had been waiting patiently in the back most of the time. Ben walked over to him and petted the top of his head.
“Almost time, boy,” he said, checking that the bowl of water he’d set in the backseat was still full.
Beau looked at Ben with those big trusting brown eyes, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Hallie could almost swear she could make out a smile on the dog’s face. A faithful companion, Beau never left Ben, trusting Ben’s every move. Hallie could understand that kind of devotion completely because, growing up, Ben had been that type of person for her too.
“Anything else we need?” Mama asked from the open front door. She tried to fluff her short, disheveled hair, the few graying strands she had nestled in the crop of dark brown catching the light, making her look older than her face would suggest.
There was nothing more they could possibly pack. When no one spoke, she locked up behind her.
“I guess we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” Sydney said.
“Has anyone texted Uncle Hank?” Mama worried aloud.
Ben raised his phone. “I did. I told him we’ll see him in about nine hours.”
Robby leaned out of the car, oblivious to the emotions they’d all been keeping from the seven-year-old for his benefit. He’d put on his sunglasses. With a grin, he said, “Firefly Beach, here we come!”
TWO
“How many have we found so far?” Ben asked, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he counted. “I’ve got three, right?”
Hallie rode beside Ben in the metallic sierra blue vintage jeep he’d treated himself to, using the first earnings he’d made after opening his own production company on Music Row in Nashville. One of his newest bands, Sylvan Park, was playing loudly over the jeep’s speakers and had been since they’d emerged off of Interstate 65, heading south, the melody as carefree as any summer day should be.
Hallie looked down at the sheet of paper that had been waiting for her in the passenger seat along with an ink pen when she got in. It was one of their road-trip games: every time they took the nine-hour drive to Firefly Beach, Ben made a list of things they had to find on the way down, and the person who found the most bought the other their first drink when they got there. Hallie was always amazed at how they’d played this every trip and he managed never to repeat the items from year to year. This list had been the most challenging of them all.
“You’ve got a Virginia license plate, a baseball cap…” Hallie ran her finger down the long list of items in search of the third spot where she’d put his initials. “And—”
“Teddy bear!” he cut her off, pointing to the car next to them.
Hallie looked inside the vehicle beside them to find a little girl clutching an oversized pink bear. “How can you even see that when you’re driving?” she asked with a laugh.
“No idea. That’s four.”
“Hang on. I think you have three.”
“No, I have four. And you have two. Check the list. You’re goin’ down!”
“Then what was number three?” she asked, taunting him.
Ben glanced between the paper and the road. “You’re covering it up with your thumb!” he said, pawing at the sheet.
Hallie playfully held it out of his r
each.
With his eyes on the highway, Ben reached over and tickled her side, causing her to collapse in on herself with a squeal, her arm moving inward enough that he could grab the paper. “Sofa!” Ben called out, handing it back to her. “Ha! I’ll start thinking of my drink order now. I want to have a really good one in mind by the time we get there. One of those fifteen-dollar beauties…”
Hallie rolled her eyes, but it was all in jest because she knew he’d never make her pay—he never had. She’d always had to surprise him with a drink on the years she’d won, so he wouldn’t offer to take care of the bill.
They settled into an easy silence after that.
The sun warmed Hallie’s bare feet resting on the dashboard, her dark chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail to keep the wind from having its way with it. The summer humidity cried out for the cool breeze that could only be found on the coast. She turned toward the passing landscape. A runaway strand of hair blew into her face and she tucked it behind her ear.
She straightened her knees and stretched out her legs along the dash, the sun casting flickering spots of light through the trees onto her skin as they sped down the road. But Hallie hardly noticed, her mind quickly returning to thoughts of everything she’d been holding in and how she’d be able to manage once they reached their impending destination. She glanced down at the news article she was bringing to Uncle Hank, folded between them in the console.
Hallie lowered her feet to the floor, reached over, and turned down the music, the twang of guitars fading into the wind. Beau shifted behind her.
“What if I’m not strong enough to support Uncle Hank?” she said, feeling the fear in her words rising in her throat as signs for the little fishing village turned creative haven for the arts came into view.
Firefly Beach: one mile.
“I might break down completely when I see him like I did at the funeral, and I’d feel awful if that happened.”
Aunt Clara was the glue that held their family together. Uncle Hank had had his moments when she’d gotten sick, and they weren’t sure how he was going to cope when the end came. His friends had told Mama that he’d isolated himself at Starlight Cottage since Aunt Clara’s death, and he was hardly taking any visitors, which wasn’t like him.
Hallie picked up the article and spread it over her lap, peering down at it, her gaze sweeping over the paragraph that read: Born April 3, 1933 to Howard and Willa Flynn, Clara married Hank Russell Eubanks on the grounds of the Starlight Estate in 1968, in a small but formal ceremony designed entirely by her—she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Her wedding dress, also her own creation, is currently on display in the Harlow Museum of Fashion in New York City.
Hallie ran her hands along the back of her neck, and closed her eyes to relieve the pinch.
“I don’t think he expects you to be strong, Hallie. But I also believe that you’re stronger than you think you are.”
If he only knew that it wasn’t that she couldn’t muster the strength, but rather the fact that she’d used it all up over the last few months and now she had nothing more left in her. Hallie had called Ben the Friday before last when she’d found out she’d be visiting Uncle Hank, still unsure about whether or not she could handle going to Firefly Beach. When Mama heard that Uncle Hank had completely isolated himself and people were worried, she went straight to Hallie and asked her to go to Firefly Beach. Concerned that he was still reclusive six months after Aunt Clara had passed, Mama didn’t want to waste any time.
Ben had convinced Hallie to go, and she’d asked him to come to Aunt Clara’s cottage with her because she couldn’t do it without his support. He’d immediately cleared his schedule. Now they were almost there. Uncle Hank was waiting for them… She had to go through with this. But all she really wanted to do was jump from the moving jeep and run as fast as she could in the other direction. Maybe that way she could pretend none of this was real.
“I can’t face that place.” She rubbed her eyes, the numbing ache that had been in her head since Aunt Clara’s death returning. “It’ll bring all the memories back like a flood, and I might not survive it.” She turned around to Beau and scratched his neck as he inched his head between her and Ben. “Mama’s better at taking care of people than I am. She always knows just what to say. I don’t think I should be there. And I feel guilty because, deep down, I’m hoping I can convince Uncle Hank to give me the second envelope.”
Beau put his paw up on the console between the two of them and Ben snapped his fingers lightly, pointing toward the back. Beau kissed his hand before returning to his spot, hanging his snout out the side of the jeep. He looked so content. Hallie guessed that if Beau could’ve talked to them, he had leaned forward to tell them that if they wanted to relax, all they had to do was to inhale the sweet smell of honeysuckle that always penetrated the air right before the welcome sign for Firefly Beach.
They passed Berkley’s Farm, the place where Aunt Clara had driven every June to load up on preserves for her cherry cobbler. Ben used to chase Hallie around the fields, playing Hide and Seek in the old barns.
“You know he won’t just give you the second envelope,” Ben said. “Not when Clara advised otherwise.”
Ben was right every time, and if this time was no different, then why was she making this trip at all? Her frustration bubbled up as anger. “Mama and Sydney were both given their inheritance. They didn’t have to do anything for it. Why is Aunt Clara making this so hard on me? I don’t even want her money. I just want her. And none of this ridiculousness is going to fix that.”
Ben put on his blinker and changed lanes, coming to a stop at the only light before town. “Have faith, Hallie,” he said, his gaze lingering on her face until she nodded toward the light that had changed. He turned his focus back to the road and they were off again.
“Why did she want me to do this?” Hallie asked, looking over at him as if he had the answer.
Hallie had no idea Aunt Clara had even kept the list, and now, her request was simply baffling. When Hallie first read it, she said to herself, “This is ridiculous. She can’t be serious. I don’t even want these things anymore.” Everyone else had been gifted large sums of money or coveted pieces of jewelry from her designer collection, rare china, or even items she’d collected from her travels around the world, but Hallie had gotten this. After everything Hallie had been through, her list seemed trivial at best.
“The last one about making a wish come true might take me years, my whole life, even,” she said, knowing none of her previous wishes—and she’d had so many—had come to fruition. “It’s absurd.”
“She was a wise woman, Hallie. You know her: until her final breath, everything she did had purpose. You have to trust her direction and take a few chances. Just relax into it and see what happens.”
Ben was right. Not only was she wise; she was the very picture of love. Everything she did was out of affection for others. Hallie opened up the paper in her lap to view the article one more time, as if the words on the page would give her some clarity. She smoothed the folds, the edges fighting against the wind, flapping madly.
A renowned designer, Clara traveled as far as London and Paris, decorating for many well-known figures with her design firm Morgan and Flynn, leaving her business partner Sasha Morgan to manage the affairs of the multimillion-dollar company…
Hallie wondered what Sasha felt, taking it all on herself at her age. Being the same age as Aunt Clara, she had to be thinking about retirement. Hallie hoped she would. If anyone deserved to rest, it was Sasha. She and Aunt Clara had worked so hard and built so much over the years. Hallie hoped that Sasha wasn’t still trying to keep up that pace on her own. At the funeral, she’d been kind and courteous, not divulging any feelings of her own apart from the sadness of losing Aunt Clara. But she’d looked as energetic as ever. Rest was probably foreign to her.
It was Aunt Clara who was the expert in rest. Hallie continued reading:
But it was the sprawli
ng, unfussy cottage of Starlight that held Clara’s heart, where she chose to spend her days writing what she referred to as “love letters” to everyone she knew, visiting with friends, or “recharging her creative voice,” as she put it, on the beachside porch of her home.
Hallie folded the paper and turned her head toward the passing landscape, to the palm trees lining the edge of the road and the little multicolored cottages perched between them. Formally named Lauk Beach, a Choctaw word meaning “fire,” the town was nicknamed Firefly Beach in the nineteen-twenties because, at certain times of the year, the coastline was full of them, like little stars that had fallen from the heavens.
Hallie fell back into her thoughts as the Firefly Beach welcome sign slid into view.
THREE
The first thing Hallie noticed was that Aunt Clara wasn’t standing on the porch of the sprawling Starlight Cottage, which sat like a pearl on the grounds of the estate. This house had been her refuge, her place of comfort nearly her entire life. It was a symbol of the love that was shared within its walls, a beacon for her, a grounding point to which she could always return when life got difficult. But without Aunt Clara, it suddenly looked different to Hallie, and she feared that it had lost what it once had.
The house stood in front of her, and in an odd way, Hallie felt betrayed by it. Because Aunt Clara wasn’t there to greet her when Hallie pulled up this time. Hallie had been to the cottage to see her aunt when she was ill, and again for the funeral, but it was this visit that the house itself stood out. Even though Aunt Clara had always returned to this house to recharge and breathe in life again after a hectic work schedule, it couldn’t save her this time. It had failed her.
Those last visits had been a blur. Hallie had been so preoccupied that she hadn’t felt the void until this trip. She sharpened her hearing to see if she could pinpoint conversation anywhere, while simultaneously feeling the rise of emotion at the colossal emptiness of the cottage and grounds.