I stare into his confused eyes, wishing I could make his sadness go away. “Cade, I’m sorry.”
He reaches out a hand and I don’t hesitate in stepping back toward him to take it. He moves closer, putting us just a few inches apart. We stand studying each other’s faces. I wish I could make it all better.
Slowly, he lowers his head to give me a soft kiss that gradually turns into something deeper.
Then as quick as it begins, it ends.
He pulls back, mumbling, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
I’m not sorry.
“I-I’m just going to go.”
I wish I knew what to say.
Cade walks over to the van, and he doesn’t even glance my way as he drives off.
I keep standing right where I am, watching the taillights disappear into the island’s darkness. Sometimes space is best, I guess. He needs that.
Eventually, I go to bed. But I barely sleep. Thoughts of Sid and Cade circle my head.
Chapter 25
Aunt Tilly startles me out of sleep the next morning when she knocks on my door. “Em? You coming down?”
“Yeah.” I rub my eyes. “Can I have a few minutes?”
“Everything okay?”
No, not really. I have no clue what to say to Cade when I see him next. Heck, I don’t know if he even wants to see me. “I’ll be down in a bit. That is if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Take what time you need.”
Her footsteps recede.
Another hour comes and goes. Gwenny calls and I ignore it. I also ignore the fact I’m supposed to call Jeremy this morning. At least I had promised myself that I would.
Cade.
Cade. Cade. Cade.
I replay the events of the previous night over and over and over again in my head.
Another hour ticks by and my stomach grumbles. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit for a minute gazing out my window. Down below a cat jumps up onto the fountain and paws at the water.
What is Cade doing at this very moment? Is he downstairs working? He said he had early morning errands.
A knock comes on my door, and Aunt Tilly slides inside. She crosses the room to sit beside me.
“If you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a good listener,” she says. “And I’d like to think I give okay advice.”
Unexpected tears well in my eyes. I’ve never been much of a crier. Mom and Grandmother have little patience for emotion.
With a sniff, I wipe them away but they come back. Aunt Tilly doesn’t console me and instead lays back on my bed. She stares at the ceiling fan as it slowly circles.
A few minutes pass, and, still looking out the window, I finally get control of the silent tears. With another sniff, I walk into the bathroom and blow my nose before returning to the bed.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit.
She keeps staring at the ceiling fan. “Is this about Cade?”
I sigh. “Yes.”
A small smile curves her lips. “I thought you two might have something going on.”
“What made you think that?”
Aunt Tilly turns her head, finally making eye contact with me. “I’ve known Cade his entire life. I’ve never seen him so affected by a girl until you.”
My heart pauses a beat as my aunt’s words echo through my head. I wait for her to elaborate, but when she doesn’t, I ask, “What do you mean?”
Aunt Tilly pushes up to sit cross-legged on the bed. “If you could see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. Among other things.”
My heart skips again. “What other things?” I ask a little too quickly.
Reaching over, she cups my cheek in her hand. “Em, that’s for you to figure out.”
Right.
Grabbing my pillow, I tuck it against my body. There’s something secure about holding a pillow. “I just don’t know what to do. I’ve never met a guy like Cade. He seems to bring out just about every thought and emotion in me.”
She smiles a little at that.
“And when he smiles in that sexy little way—” My eyes widen. “I can’t believe I just said that to you.”
Aunt Tilly laughs and I proceed to turn red. “Frederick’s dad was that way. That man could turn me inside out. Sometimes I felt like I was on a roller coaster and other times I was the most peaceful I’d ever been.”
I sigh. “Then there’s Jeremy. He’s so sweet, but every time I’m with him, Cade seems to enter my mind. It makes me feel horrible about myself.”
Aunt Tilly strokes her hand over my head. “Don’t feel horrible. It’s life. You’re learning. Trust your instincts. You know right from wrong. If you make a mistake, don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“Can’t you just tell me what to do?”
She gives me a peck on the cheek before sliding to her feet. “Sorry, hon, no can do. I will tell you, though, that Jeremy deserves honesty. Don’t lead him on. It’s not fair to him.”
She’s right and I love the comfort and support Aunt Tilly so generously gives. To think I’ve only known her for a few weeks. It seems more like a lifetime.
She crosses back over to the door. “Anytime you want to talk, don’t be afraid to come to me. There’s no topic off limits with me.”
Actually, there is—the feud with my family—but I don’t want to ruin the moment.
Chapter 26
I spend the rest of the day by myself. I take a nap in the hammock. I answer all the e-mails that have accumulated in my in-box. I make a big bowl of buttery popcorn and eat it with peanut M&M’s. I even do some reading for my law internship.
Taking time for myself feels needed, deserved, and good. But by the next morning, I’m more than ready to step back into my usual day.
Domino puts me in charge of making cranberry-walnut pancakes. After checking with him first, I add nutmeg and a dash of orange extract to the batter. The orange marries flavors perfectly with the walnuts and cranberries.
The guests rave.
As we’re cleaning up, I nonchalantly ask, “Have you seen Cade around?”
“Tilly said he was by before the sun even came up. Did all his chores. Left a note in the office to say he’d be back tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I try not to show my disappointment.
The morning comes and goes. I help Beth a bit with the housekeeping. I play a game of chess with Frederick. But despite my best efforts, my brain veers to Cade.
I call Jeremy, get his voice mail, and leave a message. The next time we talk, I plan to clear things up. Aunt Tilly’s right. It isn’t fair to Jeremy to be half into him. He deserves honesty.
“Mind if I borrow one of the mopeds?” I ask Tilly. With nothing on my agenda for the rest of the day, a ride around the island sounds perfect. No destination. Just the sun on my face and the salty air settling into my skin.
I ride along the coastal highway. I pass the marina and see Sid’s boat, but not him. I putter past the surfing beach where Cade gave me the lesson. I go to the center of Anna Island and slowly motor through the downtown area. I even go out to the airport and sit for a while watching planes come and go.
On the way home, I drive to the cemetery and find Cade bent over the same grave where I saw Sid standing a week earlier.
Cade looks up when I cut the moped’s engine and then goes right back to looking at the grave.
Cautiously, I approach him until I stand right beside him, looking down at the headstone. I read DANA FARRELL etched into the granite.
“My mom,” Cade states, matter-of-factly.
I kneel next to him.
Reaching inside his T-shirt, he pulls out the chain he always wears. “This was her ring.”
I smile a little, not really knowing what to say and also not wanting to lose this special moment with him.
“My dad’s an alcoholic,” he states, again matter-of-factly.
“Oh.” I look at him as he stares at his mother’s grave. Slowly, I reach o
ver and take his hand. He doesn’t pull away, but he also doesn’t grasp my hand in return.
Minutes pass as we silently kneel staring at the headstone, both lost in thought. Eventually, he repositions our hands to link fingers with me. I’ve held hands with boys before, but not like this. In this moment, we need each other’s hand and the connection.
“Will you tell me about her?” I quietly ask.
He moves from his knees to sit on the ground, pulling me into him.
“She was beautiful,” he says. “Intelligent. Adventurous. Bighearted. She’d do anything for anyone. She had the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. But her one mistake in life was falling in love with Sid.”
The bitterness in his voice constricts my throat.
“They were high school sweethearts,” Cade continues. “He was a train wreck even back then. But Mom was completely devoted to him. She would have followed him to the ends of the earth. She defended him to the whole town when everyone told her Sid was a loser. She loved him. And that was that.”
He pauses and I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t.
“How did she die?” I ask.
Cade looks at me, but his gaze holds no emotion. “Sid killed her.”
Chapter 27
I sit very still as Cade’s words sink in. But the longer I sit, the harder my heart thuds. I don’t know what to say.
He lets out a humorless chuckle, looking back to his mom’s grave.
“What happened?” I whisper.
“Sid got drunk,” Cade softly speaks. “Decided to go sailing. Mom went with him. Only one of them came back.”
“Where were you?”
Cade doesn’t answer at first and instead keeps staring at his mom’s grave. Eventually, he slides his hand from mine to scrub his face. I’d forgotten we were holding hands.
“I was only ten at the time,” he croaks. “I yelled at my mom not to go. She didn’t listen. I yelled at my mom to take me with her. She didn’t listen.”
He lapses into silence, his face covered by his hands, trying to control his emotions.
“Mom was good friends with your aunt,” he mumbles into his palms. “She dropped me off at The Pepper House on the way to the marina. That was the last time I ever saw her.”
“Oh, Cade.” I scoot closer, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
He doesn’t take his hands off his face as I hug him. “Sid came back weeks later. Mom wasn’t with him.” He inhales a deep breath. “He said he was drunk and fell overboard. She dove in to save him. Only she got swept away in the current. Because of Sid, she is dead. He killed her.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
He looks at me then. “Your aunt Tilly took me in, did you know that? The room you’re in now used to be my room.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Sid quickly reappeared and then proceeded to disappear again. A whole year went by before I saw him. And it’s been like that ever since. Almost as if I’d lost both of them.” Cade turns away from me, staring into the trees that border the cemetery. “Do you think he’s bothered to give Tilly money for me? No. He’d make his annual visit, stay for a few days, and head back out on his boat.” He lets out another humorless chuckle. “He did at least manage to remember to thank your aunt a time or two.”
It strikes me then how bitter Cade sounds. Bitter—a word I always reserve for older people who have been through a lot. Cade’s only nineteen, but he’s already experienced a lifetime of hurt.
The silence stretches between us as we sit on the ground at his mom’s grave. I stare at the side of his face, and the anguish I see there hits me straight in the gut.
I move so that I sit in front of him, staring into his tormented face. I take in the creases of his brow and his light blue eyes, the auburn stubble on his cheeks and the hard set of his jaw.
Leaning forward, I press a tender kiss to his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Cade.” Like with Frederick, I wish I had something more significant to say. I hope he knows just how much I mean it.
He brings his gaze to mine and his brow relaxes little by little as he stares at me. A myriad of expressions cross his face—perplexed, curious, questioning, vulnerable—all things I’d rather see than the anguish of before.
“Will you come somewhere with me?” he asks, hurt lingering in his voice.
“Sure.”
He has no moped, so we double on mine. He drives us down the hill from the cemetery and straight through the center of town. Cade cuts down a side street and comes to a stop in front of a glass-blowing shop. He kills the engine and climbs off.
Bypassing the shop, he leads me down a side alley. I follow him all the way to the end, where he opens and walks through an unlocked door.
It leads into a small hall, with another door to the right and one on the left. Cade turns the knob on the left and steps into a dimly lit studio apartment. I follow behind, my gaze touching on the driftwood furniture and hardwood floors.
“This looks like The Pepper House,” I say.
Cade’s lips curve up. “Your aunt helped me decorate it.”
My eyes widen. “This is your place?”
Turning a slow circle, I take it all in again. “I thought when you move out on your own, you’re supposed to do things your style.”
Cade shrugs. “This is my style.”
He seems back to being the Cade I’ve come to know—not the one from the cemetery.
“Well, when I finally get my own place, I’m so not decorating it my parents’ way.”
“What way is that?”
“Delicate, fancy, expensive—also known as uncomfortable. It’s just not me.”
Cade looks me up and down. “Yeah, delicate and fancy is definitely not you.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” I might be offended if it wasn’t for the teasing note in his voice.
Cade laughs. “I just mean when I first met you I would’ve definitely pegged you for the fancy, stuffy scene. But now you’re different.”
“Different?”
“More down to earth.”
That’s funny. I don’t think I’ve changed at all. “You just didn’t know me. I really haven’t changed.”
“Yeah, you have.”
I think about it for a few seconds and I guess he has a point. I now cook on a regular basis. I don’t worry about being proper and poised day in and day out. I’m comfortable, content. I feel like myself, or rather the self I should have been all along.
“So the grand tour.” He points to the wall on his right. “On the other side of that wall is the glass-blowing shop. My mom worked there pretty much since the day she could work. She loved art. She even had an apprenticeship with the blower. A lot of things they carried were hers. I spent a lot of time in there when I was a boy.”
“Do you have any of her pieces?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve got them packed and stored at The Pepper House.”
“Will you show me sometime?” I love this side of him. I want to know as much about Cade Farrell as I can.
With a curious half-smile, he studies me for a few seconds.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just no one has ever asked me that before.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
Cade turns away from the wall that separates him from his mom’s history. He points across the room to a mini-kitchenette. “The kitchen.” He points to his futon couch. “My couch-slash-bed.” He points to two oversized, driftwood chairs. “Guest seating.” He points to an old stereo. “Music.” He points to long cabinets that stretch from floor to ceiling. “Storage.” He points to the hardwood floor. “Floor.”
His lips twitch and I laugh. “Okay, enough of the tour. I get it. This is it.”
He walks into the kitchen. “Drink?”
“Sure.”
With two sodas retrieved, he motions me over to the futon.
For a few quiet seconds, we sit sipping our sodas. I’ve never
been the type who needs words to fill the air, and so I simply enjoy the quiet.
He says, “Thanks for back there at the cemetery.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m a basket case, huh? Drunk dad, dead mom.” Cade huffs out an unamused laugh.
“We all have our things. You’re not a basket case.”
He takes a sip of his soda. “What things do you have, Em? Seems like you had a pretty good upbringing. A little stuffy for my taste, but—”
“Stuffy?” I chuckle. “You have no idea. I have had it good, though. I can’t complain.”
How different he and I are. I’ve had nothing but stability and consistency, and he’s had Sid’s alcoholism, abandonment, and the death of his mom to deal with.
“There’s a lot more to having it good than schools and clothes,” Cade wisely observes. “What good are all those material things if you don’t appreciate them, you know? I’m sure you know people like that.”
I’ve never heard it put quite that way before, but it rings true.
“Something tells me your parents have very high expectations that you’ve spent a lifetime scrambling to meet.” He touches a finger to my chest. “Inside here is the person you really want to be. I think you just don’t how to be her without disappointing your parents.”
I stare at Cade, the warmth of his finger on my chest, his words soaking in. Nobody’s ever pegged me so clearly. He’s right, though. I focus on what I’m supposed to do and be, so much so that I can’t see through to my true self.
“Ever thought of being a psychologist?” I joke.
He takes his finger back. “I do read people well.”
This side of Cade surprises me. He’s more thoughtful and intelligent than I gave him credit for.
“You’re right, my parents and grandmother have very high expectations of me. They expect me to be a certain way, and that’s the way I try to be.” I shrug. “I’ve never thought about doing anything differently.”
“Sounds controlling.”
“It can be,” I agree. More than he knows. “And you? Do you know where you’re headed in life?”
“I think so. Honestly, I’m not too worried about it. I trust that things will fall into place as they may. I like to dabble in many things.”
Em (The Summer My Life Began Book 1) Page 11