On the table at the foot of the stairs was a shot of the two of us wearing sombreros in Tango Sol. I threw that one as hard as I could, smashing the plate-glass mirror. Upstairs I dug through my husband’s bedside table. I was looking for a letter, a picture, any evidence of how long this had been going on right under my nose.
The one person I trusted most in the world.
The world’s biggest liar.
I found his journal and tore it open. A scrap of paper fell to the floor.
I’m pregnant. –A.
I picked it up and read it. Then I blinked and read it again. All at once the truth slammed into me like a medicine ball straight to the gut.
Julian’s father… Julian’s mystery father… Those bright blue eyes…
The scream was out of my mouth before I even heard it, pulling my muscles so hard, my whole body bent in half. My heart exploded as I realized how long, how blind, how stupid I’d been. All those nights of working late… How many times had they humiliated me? Laughed at me behind my back?
The pain ripping through my chest felt exactly like a hook had been inserted, twisted around, and jerked out fast. Never in my life have I hurt like this, not when Daddy died, not when Mama left, not even when I thought I’d lost Billy after the twins.
I dropped to my knees as a low moan forced its way from deep inside me, as tears flooded my eyes, as I slowly curled all the way to the floor.
She stole everything I had. My only dream.
I will never forgive her as long as I live.
* * *
Anna – December
For a long time, all I could do was sit and stare at Meg Kyser’s final written words. Then, after many silent minutes, the book slid from my hands to the floor.
It was quiet in my room. The only sound was the ticking of the second hand on my little clock. Time. She hated time.
I lay my head down on the pillow listening, my stomach in knots, and tried to sort through all the thoughts swirling in my brain. I’d asked over and over what was wrong with Jack’s family? How could they be so broken, so messed up? Now I knew.
I thought of Lucy after her overdose last fall, how hopeless she’d been. If only her mom had been here. If only she’d had a mom growing up. I wondered what kind of advice Meg Kyser would’ve given her only daughter about loneliness. I thought about Lucy and how similar she was to her mom. How much she looked like her. And how her dad did everything he could to avoid her. It all made sense now.
I rolled over on my bed and stared at the wall for a minute. Then I reached into my nightstand drawer and pulled out the picture Lucy had taken of Jack and me at that first dance. My heart still caught when I saw his gorgeous smile and bright blue eyes, but tonight my feelings were different. Sorry.
I remembered the old picture I’d found at the newspaper office of his mom, Mr. Kyser, Ms. LaSalle, and a bunch of their friends at Scoops when they were in high school. Jack was the perfect mixture of his parents—light blonde hair, clear blue eyes, athletic build. He was so handsome. I ran my finger down the side of his face as I gazed at the image of us together, happy.
A hot tear slid down my nose, and I pushed the frame back in the drawer a little too hard. I was sorry, but I wouldn’t cry for him. I hated this thing had happened to his family, but I wouldn’t go down that road again. I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure how any of this changed anything, but it wouldn’t make me forget what our relationship had been like.
I lay on my bed several minutes longer. The other two journals sat on the bed beside me, and I expected they contained very different versions of what I’d read. But I didn’t want to go there just yet. I wanted to talk to a friend.
I lifted my phone, sliding my finger across the different contacts. A glimpse of golden hair and a goofy grin made me stop. Lucy had snapped a silly self-portrait and saved it on my phone with her number last fall, and every time I saw it, I couldn’t stop a smile, even now.
Things were slowly changing between her and her dad. She’d convinced him to let her stay here spring semester instead of moving to New Orleans with Jack and Will. And since she’d found B.J., she’d been happier than I’d ever seen her. I touched her number.
“Anna? What’s up!” Her cheerful voice made me feel a little brighter.
“Hey,” I started but my voice was thick. I cleared my throat. “Merry late Christmas!”
“Same to you! So? What did you do? Get any special surprises?”
If she only knew. “Oh, nothing much and not really,” I said. “I’d already told my parents what I wanted, and they usually just stick to the list. You know.”
“Hmm.” Her tone sounded puzzled, like she’d expected a different answer. “I thought… Never mind. I’m glad you called—I need your help.”
“With what?” I sat up quickly. It was silly, but I was eager to do something for her, to make up for what I now knew.
“I need you to go Christmas shopping with me,” she said. “I know, it’s past Christmas, but I need something for B.J. when he gets back from Birmingham, and he made me promise not to get him anything over twenty dollars. Can you believe that?”
“Well, sort of.” I imagined how it must feel to date the daughter of the richest man in town. From what I remembered, all B.J. did outside of school was lifeguard. And it wasn’t lifeguard season anymore.
“I’ve told him we’re not in a competition, but he just insists,” she sighed. “Where can I find him something special at that price?”
“We could hit the farmer’s market in Fairview,” I said.
“Anna. I’m not getting him a fruit basket.”
I actually laughed then. “No! Mom said several of the artists have booths there. They bring their leftover stock from Christmas on the Coast and sell it at a discount.”
“You are brilliant!” she cried. “I knew you’d help me. I’ll pick you up in the morning at ten.”
* * *
The farmer’s market filled a four-block square in the streets of downtown Fairview, and while most of the western spaces were filled with produce, coffee, and local honey, the eastern rows were stocked with an assortment of unique, artistic creations, from shovels converted into torches to pottery to handmade baby clothes to pewter serving platters.
The humidity had blown away overnight, and the first hints of a chilly New Year’s Eve were floating in on the breeze under clear blue skies. I’d grabbed a light, black cardigan to wear over my t-shirt and jeans, and my spiral locks were tied back in a low, side ponytail. Lucy, by contrast, looked liked she’d stepped off the fashion pages. She was dressed in black footless tights and a red tunic dress. Her light-tan leather blazer matched her ballet flats perfectly, and her smooth blonde hair was swept down her back and over one shoulder. I tried not to think about how much she probably looked just like Meg. It was too heartbreaking.
“It sounds like you and B.J. are pretty serious now,” I said as we slowly inspected the wares in each booth. “Are you still having trouble remembering your assignments at Month’s Bay?”
She smiled at my teasing. “My retention skills have suddenly improved,” she said, waving a pewter salad tong. “Once I realized I needed to keep up with him or we wouldn’t see each other as much.”
I laughed, still amazed at her wanting to work at the coastal reserve protecting sea grasses and labeling sea turtle nests.
But her tone grew serious. “And yes. We are getting serious. He takes me to mass every Saturday.”
My eyebrows rose. “Saturday mass?”
She nodded, lowering the large spoon and lifting a silk scarf. “We usually go out to eat or to a movie after. It’s all very corny and proper, and I love it.”
“That must be a nice change for you,” I said, picking up a leather wallet that had Aztec designs embossed on the cover.
“What do you mean?” Her voice was offended, and I dropped the wallet, my eyes flying to meet hers.
“Oh my god, that came out totally wrong. I’m so sorry. I just m
eant, well, there was that thing with Julian, and then…” Jack had told me about her past, her pregnancy that had ended in adoption and the older man who was responsible for it. But I wasn’t sure she knew I knew.
“You mean the jerk?” She knew. “Yeah, he’s a nice change from that guy.”
She paused, still holding the scarf. “I told him about that, you know.”
“About what? The accident with Julian?”
“About the baby. I told him I’d had one.”
I was stunned. “How’d he take it?”
“Very well, actually,” she said, lowering the scarf and looking ahead. “We were talking about me going to school at Sacred Heart. That’s when he suggested we go to mass together. His family’s all back in Birmingham, so he’s here alone. I thought it was sweet that he wanted to take me to church, and at one of our dinners after, I just told him. I felt like he should know.”
I nodded. “That’s good.” Then I stopped. “I’m sorry. It’s more than good, it’s really great. You’ve been through a lot, and B.J. sounds amazing.”
She grinned. “He is a good change. We’re getting to know each other, taking our time. And now there’s no pressure. No big secret waiting to come out.”
I bit my lip at the irony of that statement. My stomach was suddenly heavy with guilt over what I knew as we stopped at a table of handmade jewelry. I briefly thought of Julian and my ring when my eyes landed on a tiny silver sailboat. I reached out and touched it lightly with my fingertip.
“Oh!” Lucy picked up the dime-sized charm and turned it in her hand. “It’s perfect for Jack—he’ll love it! You’ve got to get it for him!”
My eyebrows pulled together as I watched her. “Wait—don’t you know?”
Her frown matched mine. “Know what?”
“Oh, Lucy.” My shoulders dropped as my eyes closed. “That’s why you gave me that picture of us together. You didn’t know we broke up.”
Her jaw dropped, but just as fast she closed it. “Wait… That was for real? But I thought you were just taking a little break while he settled in at school.”
“No,” I shook my head. “It’s no break. It’s over. We’re done.”
Her forehead was still lined. “But I don’t understand,” she said softly then she shook it away. “So that’s why you didn’t see him at Christmas.”
Her words caused that stupid pain in my chest, but I clenched my teeth. I wasn’t going backwards. I didn’t want to see him at Christmas, and I couldn’t help it if Lucy had been out of the loop. Mine and Jack’s non-couple status was his decision, and I was done riding his merry-go-round. It was over.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” I said, forcing a smile, making my voice be calm and not angry. “It was mutual, and I’m totally over it.”
“Okay,” she shrugged, and I watched as she picked the sailboat off the padded mat. “I think I’ll get this for him anyway. You know how my brother is about his boat.”
I didn’t want to discuss it. “We still haven’t found anything for B.J.,” I said, continuing down the row.
She looked around puzzled. “I know, and I’m about ready to give up. I’ll never find anything that suits him at that price.”
Just then she froze. I looked back, and a little grin crossed her lips. My eyes followed hers to a life-sized clay sea turtle sitting in one of the yard-ornament booths.
“No.” I grabbed her arm.
“Yes!” she laughed. “It’s perfect!”
“It’s not romantic at all.”
“Shh!” She rushed forward and squatted, putting her hands on each side of the turtle’s head. “You’ll hurt Henry’s feelings.”
“Oh no.” We were both giggling now, and I was glad. All the Jack tension was released.
“And it’s twenty dollars!” She cried, flipping the price card over. “It was meant to be. It’s how we found each other again… sea turtles. Henry is perfect.”
“Well, you’ve given him a name. Now you have to buy him.”
I followed her to the cashier and watched as she settled up. Then we walked back to her car, Henry tucked under her arm with a huge red bow around his neck. “I know life gets hectic once school’s back in, but don’t be such a stranger,” she said, giving me a squeeze.
I nodded and gave her a quick hug back. “I won’t. And I hope B.J. loves his new friend.”
She smiled and wiggled Henry under her arm. “Me, too.”
* * *
Back home, I threw together a turkey club for lunch and then jogged back up to my room. Mom and Dad would only be gone one more day, so reaching under my bed, I pulled out the dark, fabric-covered journal.
My heart ticked up a little faster at the sight of it. I had no idea what version of the story this book would hold or how it would change things, what I might find out about Julian or his mom.
My fingers trembled as I opened the cover. I took a deep breath and read the first lines.
Book 2 – Lexy
May 31, 19--
Salt. Fresh fish. Warm, moist humidity, moldering wood.
The air is filled with bright oranges and deep reds, white-hot yellows and brown.
Low buzzing of construction down to my right, strong rush of wind, pushing my hair back.
Crash… sizzle. Crash… sizzle.
The ocean is rough and happy today, beckoning me to run down and join in its dance.
So my best friend Meg gave me a journal as a graduation present, and here I am writing in it. It’s funny. I had actually considered following her example and keeping a record of all my thoughts and feelings, and then she surprised me with this gift.
She gave one to each of us—Bill and me—and said since we were embarking on our big life plans, we should record the journey. She loves doing things like that, turning each moment into something memorable.
Let’s see… what to write about this beginning?
It’s a crazy time for all of us. So much is changing. This morning I decided to run to my usual escape down by the shore to relax and find my center. I was meditating when I remembered being a little girl and stripping off all my clothes so I could run and jump naked into the surf. It was always so warm and swirly, and I would pretend I could turn into a mermaid and swim down deep to rule some magical kingdom. The memory made me smile, and I peeped through one eye at my surroundings.
Nope, too many early vacationers to attempt a repeat performance. Even here on Port Hogan Road, the beach condos are taking over. Damn Bill Kyser. His big plan is only going to make things worse.
In those days, I could come down here almost any time and be alone. That’s when I’d started my habit of skinny-dipping. Now I have to be content to sit on the shoreline, eyes closed, legs crossed simply breathing in the air and listening to the sounds of my home. My inspiration.
I giggled at the thought of me skinny-dipping now. I could just see the headline, “Local Girl Caught Naked in the Gulf!” Miss Stella would get a big laugh out of that.
My benefactress has a wicked sense of humor despite her reputation as one of the most straight-laced members of society. I know her better, though. I had a wonderful time growing up here. She says I’m her favorite little orphan, and she’s encouraged me in everything I’ve done.
Orphan.
Technically, I’m not an orphan. I wouldn’t even be here if my slacker dad hadn’t dumped me with the nuns after my mother had her nervous breakdown. He cut and ran right back to New Orleans, leaving me with the good sisters at the Little Flower Convent.
Loser.
A man who deserts his family isn’t worth the time of day, if you ask me.
When my mother died a few years later, he never even came back for the funeral. Miss Stella told me not to hold it against him, and I’ve decided to take her advice. I’d actually like to thank him. Miss Stella’s given me a better life than any I could’ve had with him. A beautiful life full of color and art and living by the sea.
In two weeks, I’ll be in the bigges
t wedding in town, which still makes me laugh sometimes. Who would’ve ever believed a waif like me could be inseparable friends with someone like Meg Weaver? I guess chalk it up to small towns and childhood memories.
But it’s more than that. Meg’s like my sister, even if we’re like night and day. It’s funny, we are sort of like night and day—her glowing sunshine, and me quiet night.
She’s determined to marry her Billy, and nothing I can say will change her mind. He’ll be the ruin of our hometown, and she’ll be right there on every community board and snooty rich-wives club supporting him.
But I love her.
I’ve never met anyone as sweet or as loyal as Meg, and I’ll gladly stand up for her to marry whomever she pleases. Even if it’s someone I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.
Today I went to her house to try on the maid of honor dress she picked out for me. I imagined it would be some terrible Pepto-Bismol pink number with lots of frills and lace. Meg is very girlie, and she loves all the trappings of the princess set.
When I arrived, her mom, who we all call Gigi, was in the sitting room entertaining one of her DAR friends. She motioned me upstairs, and I wondered again why she was letting Meg get married so young. Especially to Bill. He’s so focused on his big dream. There’s no way he can love Meg as much as he loves himself and his plan. But these old hens only see one thing: grandbabies. They see beautiful Margaret Weaver marrying (okay, I’ll admit it) gorgeous Bill Kyser, and they go all Gone with the Wind. If he’s ambitious, well that just makes it all the more romantic.
I think it’s a total mistake. Meg’s so tender, he’s sure to end up hurting her.
Up in her room, she was giddy with excitement about her big day. “Oh, Lexy, I never thought you’d get here. I can’t stand it! You’re gonna die when you see the dress.”
Undertow (Dragonfly) Page 9