by V. T. Do
Joey glanced up at the ceiling. The words I had taped there many weeks back were still there. It felt like a lifetime ago when Wyatt warned me we didn’t have a future. “You don’t have to keep those up, you know.”
I stared at it too. “Why not?”
“It sounds like you’re just waiting for him to break your heart.”
“Won’t he?”
“He seemed sincere when he talked to me about it. If anything, you might the one to break his heart.”
I scoffed. “Please. He’s invincible.”
“You’re so convinced that nothing can touch him, you’ve blinded yourself to the fact that he’s crazy about you. You should see the way he stares after you when you leave the room. Or how he smiles whenever you smile, as if you’re the most amusing person he has ever met.”
“Now you’re just making stuff up.”
“I know. You’re not amusing.” She smiled to let me know she was joking. I rolled my eyes in good humor. “But Wyatt doesn’t see that. Love is blind and all that.” I tugged at her hair, and she moved away, grinning. Then a somber expression overtook her face, and she said seriously, “Watch him the next time you’re together. Even you can’t keep denying that he loves you.”
“Wyatt doesn’t love me.”
It was her turn to scoff. “If you don’t think so, then you’re more delusional than I thought.”
“Delusional?”
“Yep. I’m telling you. He loves you. And you’re afraid what that might mean. Forget about his other secrets for now. Because I might have just revealed his biggest one.”
She smiled when I didn’t say anything. Then she stood up and patted my head before walking out of the room, probably going to look for food in the kitchen.
And I stayed where I was, reeling.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Legacy You Left Me
Emery
It had been half a year since my grandpa’s passing. I hadn’t been in his office since. I hadn’t looked through his stuff, hadn’t looked through whatever treasures he might have left me. I couldn’t bring myself to go through his personal belongings, because it felt as if I was admitting to myself that he really was gone and that he wasn’t coming back.
But after my talk with Joey, I couldn’t stay away.
Would the things he left behind tell me more about him than the fact that he had raised me since I was six?
It felt like a betrayal, only I wasn’t sure who was doing the betraying, him or me.
His office was unlocked when I tried the knob. I opened the door slowly, suddenly very aware of the squeak it made. It was just past one a.m., and the whole house was cloaked in silence.
I turned on the light and squinted against the intrusion, letting my eyes adjust before walking farther into the office. It was exactly as it had been.
If I didn’t know any better, I might have thought he was still here, living in this house. There were people who came in here to clean once a week, but they left everything as it was. Even the documents he had laid out were still there, along with his black laptop.
His death was unexpected. There hadn’t been any warning that told me he would soon leave me. A heart attack, the doctor said. Killed him in his sleep. We had said good night the night before. He’d kissed my cheek and retired for the night, but come morning, he was gone.
His body was still warm when I’d found him. It was one of the most surreal moments of my life.
And now I was looking through his documents, looking for his journals that I knew he wrote in every night... anything that would tell me he was a different man than the one I had known. Some sort of evidence that told me he might have been the hero in my story, but perhaps he was the dragon in someone else’s.
I could find only one of his journals. It was the most recent one. I skimmed through the first entry. The date told me it was less than a year old, which meant his other journals from further back were kept elsewhere. Or he might have burned them. I’d never known what he did with them after they were full.
The documents on his desk were all about his business. Which meant they were useless to me. I turned on the shredder and shredded the papers I knew weren’t needed, clearing away some of the mess on his desk.
It took a good three hours before I was done sorting through everything. The sky outside was still pitch-black, and I could hear the wind howling, foretelling a strong storm to come, and I wasn’t even close to finding my answers. I was convinced he’d burned his journals, so that no one could ever be privy to his secrets. The journal I found was useless. It was more or less just ramblings about his worries of growing old, about my health and happiness, and about his business.
It told me nothing.
I crumbled up a piece of paper I’d found on the floor—a bank statement, from the look of it—and threw it against the bookshelf to my right. Leaning back in the chair, I looked up at the ceiling.
My thumb pressed against the edge of the desk, feeling the sharpness of the wood there, while I thought about all the other places my grandpa could have hidden his secrets. His room was the same as it had been too. Unlike his office, I hadn’t avoided going into his room, and had even spent some nights there, especially the days and nights after his passing.
I knew that room almost as well as my own. It was typical and unexciting. His room, unlike his office, didn’t contain anything personal. It served more as a space he’d used for sleeping than anything else. And I knew there wasn’t anything in there, because I would have found it already.
My thumb came to the corner of the desk, and I glided it back to the middle. It was then that I felt a small indent in the wood, farther back than normal.
I pushed the chair back and bent down, and to my surprise, I found a small drawer hidden there. My heart thumped erratically in my chest. Because the drawer was purposely hidden, I thought this might be it. This might be what I had been searching for all night.
I grabbed the small handle in the middle, only hesitating for a second before I pulled it open.
What I found was a small rectangular metal box, no more than two inches in height, the length about as long as a standard envelope.
I rattled the box and heard a thud that sounded like papers inside, lots of them. The box looked familiar to me. Vaguely, I remembered that my grandpa used to have it sitting out on his desk, though it hadn’t drawn my attention then as it did now.
Why was it locked? And hidden?
And did I want to know what was inside? One thing was for certain—I couldn’t break it open with my bare hands. I needed something, some sort of tool that could cut through the metal without damaging the contents inside.
Or I could try and find the key.
Only, I didn’t think there was such a key lying about the house. An idea came to mind, and I fired up the laptop on the desk, emailing my grandpa’s former lawyer, Richard Gillian.
***
I fell asleep sometime around four in the morning and didn’t wake until noon, when my phone rang with an incoming call. Groaning, I reached for my phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” came a deep, amused voice. As tired as I was, I knew he was smiling on the other end of the line. “Are you still asleep?”
“Not anymore,” I said petulantly, sitting up on my bed.
I smiled when Wyatt laughed. I could get used to that being the first thing I hear when I wake every morning. “Well, get up. It’s Sunday. Don’t you want to spend it with me?”
“And what are we doing on this fine Sunday?” I asked.
“‘Fine’? Baby, have you looked outside?”
“No, is it bad?”
“They say a blizzard is coming. But not until tonight. It’s raining pretty hard right now.”
That gave me an idea. I climbed out of bed and looked around for my robe. “I know what we can do. Can you pick me up in about an hour?”
“Yeah, I can do that. See you then.”
“See you.”
I
hung up and walked into the bathroom, trying to make good use of the hour to get ready for my day with Wyatt.
***
Wyatt came exactly one hour after our call. I sat on the porch and watched the rain drizzling over the dead grass just as he pulled into the driveway.
I ran to his car and got in before he could get out and open the door for me. I smiled. He frowned.
“You didn’t have to wait outside for me, you know. It’s cold.”
“A little cold won’t hurt me. Besides, I like how it feels. The winter air makes it easier to breathe.”
“Hmm. So where are we going?”
I grinned. “Head out and take a right when you get out of the neighborhood. I know where we can grab a late lunch in this weather.”
The drive there was short. With it being crappy weather out and a Sunday, there weren’t many cars on the road. I looked out the window as we passed the familiar scenery. I hadn’t taken this route in seven long months. There was just something about experiencing this again, and with Wyatt, that made me feel quite content.
I could stay like this for the rest of the day, and with the week I’d had, it was nice to find these little reprieves from the conflicts I was now facing at home. The metal box was now tucked back in its hiding place, and I didn’t want to spend the entire day trying to guess what sort of secrets it held.
Wyatt followed my directions and turned into a small shopping center just outside the city. The area was nice enough, filled with upper-middle-class people and many locally owned businesses. One little business in particular was why I’d brought us here. From the look on Wyatt’s face, I didn’t think he’d ever been here before.
“Why are we here?”
I pointed to the little restaurant in the corner. “Do you see that?”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“My grandpa used to take me there every Sunday for lunch. Just the two of us. It was a tradition we carried on since I was ten.”
Wyatt was quiet for a moment. “So why did you bring me here?” He didn’t sound upset or irritated about it. He said it in a matter-of-fact way.
Up until that moment, I didn’t know why I had brought him here. Only that it was Sunday and the weather was crappy, so I’d wanted something hot and comforting to eat. But now I realized it was because I wanted to show him a different side of my grandpa. That whatever Wyatt might think about the man who raised me, I wanted him to see how good my grandpa had been as well.
“I wanted to share a special memory with you. Is that wrong?” I asked anxiously. Perhaps the bad blood between him and Grandpa ran deeper than I thought.
Wyatt stilled, his expression even, and I wasn’t sure if this had been a bad idea or not.
Then his hand reached for mine, turning my palm over so he could squeeze my fingers, letting me know everything was okay. “No, it’s not wrong. I’d love to know everything about you, and I think knowing about your family is a good place to start.” With that, he got out of the car. We met at the hood, and he grabbed my hand and led me into the pho restaurant.
It was family owned, and had been here for fifteen years. The husband and wife who owned it were the nicest people I knew. They even attended my grandpa’s funeral, and closed their restaurant the following Sunday in honor of him.
When I walked in with Wyatt, the man, Binh Tran, noticed me first. His eyes widened in surprise before settling into a gentle smile, as he walked over to where we stood.
“Emery,” he said, my name coming out like a sigh. “Where have you been? Don’t you know how much Trinh and I have missed you?”
He came to the United States with his uncle when he was eighteen. Though he’d grasped the English language pretty quickly, he still spoke with an accent. He was about my height, his small eyes crinkling in the corners whenever he smiled or frowned. Now in his late fifties, and with three children away at college, he was still as friendly as ever, his gray hair bringing out the gentleness of his brown eyes and dark skin.
“I missed you too. Business is going well?” I asked.
“Yes, yes. We have our regulars and some new faces as well. Trinh is trying to keep busy now that the children are gone, but everything is going great.”
I smiled. “Uncle Binh, I want you to meet my boyfriend, Wyatt.”
Wyatt smiled and held out his hand. I tried not to laugh at the way he eyed Wyatt, as if he was trying to figure him out while trying to remain polite at the same time.
“Boyfriend? Aren’t you a little young to be dating?”
I laughed then. “I’m twenty.” Way too old to be as inexperienced as I had been before I met Wyatt.
“Well, just remember to stay focused on your studies.”
Wyatt shot me an amused look. “I’ll keep her in line.”
Uncle Binh seemed satisfied with that answer. With a smile, he led us to an empty booth by the window and placed two menus in front of us. “I’ll tell Trinh you’re here. She’ll be happy to see you again.”
Shortly after he walked away, a server came over with two glasses of water. He must be new, since I didn’t recognize him. I watched the people around the restaurant and was happy to see that not much had changed. That it was still the same place I had been coming to since I was little, only now I was back here without my partner in crime.
When I looked at Wyatt, his eyes were already on me. “What?” I asked.
“Does coming back here make you sad?”
“Maybe just a little. This place was ours, you know?”
“You didn’t have to bring me here.”
I reached across the table for his hand. Wyatt turned his palm up so that I could draw lines on it with my finger. “I want you here. I want to make new memories, especially with you.”
His lips quirked up in a small smile. “Good.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“What, pho?”
I nodded. He shook his head. “Then you are in for a surprise. It’s really good.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Trinh came over to our table then. I stood up and hugged her. “God, look at you. Still as beautiful as ever. Though you’ve lost weight. Have you not been eating?”
I laughed then, happy to see her. Trinh’s accent was stronger than her husband’s. But her words were so poised, they sounded almost musical. I could listen to her talk all day. “You say that every time I come here.”
She gave me the look. The one I imagined most moms gave their children when they argued. My smile widened when she said, “That’s because you eat about as much as a kitten!”
Wyatt let out a small chuckle and stood up too. He shook hands with Trinh, his charming, lopsided smile in place. And Trinh wasn’t unaffected, even though she had a good twenty years on him. “Oh my. What a handsome boy you are.”
Wyatt shot me a look. Probably because he wasn’t used to being called a boy. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Trinh turned to me then. “My husband told me you brought your boyfriend. I had to come out and see for myself.”
I laughed. “So, you approve?”
She nodded, her eyes glancing over at Wyatt once again, almost as if she couldn’t believe he was real. “I do. Tell me, how have you been? You haven’t been here in a while.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her, regret and guilt turning over in my gut. I should have visited sooner.
Her eyes softened in understanding before she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into her small frame. I towered over her by a head. Yet it was hard not to see her as maternal.
“You were sad, and, well, I was too. Still am. Now, don’t you worry about anything. You know this place is always open to you. Sit, sit,” she said, pointing to Wyatt and me. We took our seats. “Do you know what you want?”
“Anything you feel like making,” I said, looking at Wyatt. He shrugged, as if he didn’t care what he ate, and nodded. I smiled.
“Perfect. I know just what to make.” With that, she made her way to the back. Wy
att continued to stare at me from across the booth. I fidgeted in my seat, pushing my red locks behind my ears before bringing them forward once more to cover my face.
“What?” I asked finally.
“You’re beautiful.”
“Careful, Mr. James. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
His eyes roamed my face, then down to the part of my upper body that was visible above the table. “Can I decide what constitutes ‘everywhere’?”
I smirked, raising my glass of water in salute. “Sure, when we’re alone.”
He bit his lip, probably to keep from laughing out loud, but I decided he just looked too damn delectable for his own good. Men who looked like Wyatt should come with a warning label. Something along the lines of “CAN MAKE RECIPIENT HOT AND BOTHERED, TIME AND PLACE IRRELEVENT.”
“You seem happy here,” Wyatt said.
I nodded. “Some of my fondest childhood memories happened here.”
“What was your grandpa like?” he asked.
I sat up a little straighter, as if I was preparing for a trial to defend my grandpa’s character. “He was the best man I knew. He was patient and kind. We used to have tea parties every Saturday afternoon when I was little. As if this high-powered executive had nothing better to do with his time than attend my tea parties. He really was a good man, Wyatt.”
“Hey, listen to me. I’m not arguing with what you have to say. I wouldn’t have asked you to tell me about him if I already knew.” He grabbed my hand across the table and held on. “I mean it. I really just want to know.”
I let him wrap his fingers around mine, engulfing my hand. That small act comforted me to share more with him. “He helped Binh and Trinh with their restaurant. When we first started coming here, the place was struggling, and Binh was trying to put his three kids through school. My grandpa made a small donation. And he helped bring in some business as well, and before we knew it, the restaurant had become a huge success.