“You’re not alone.”
“But I am. It’s like you said, I don’t have anyone asking anything of me. No one who needs me.”
He moves closer. “That’s not true. You do have people who need you. I need you. You have me.”
My untethered emotions let me speak the words I haven’t had the courage to. “But that’s only for a while, isn’t it?”
“No,” he says emphatically. “You have me.”
The truth of it permeates through my anguish, giving solace I wasn’t anticipating. “And once I have the answers I came here for?”
He closes the space between us. “Then you’ll have your answers. And you’ll still have me.”
He reaches for me, kissing me, his touch like medicine to my soul. Slowly, the walls begin to break down piece by piece. I wrap my arms around him, and we hold on to one another without care of being seen.
That is until we hear a small cough from behind us.
Parting, we see Jane standing at the end of the path, staring at us, her lips pressed together tightly.
“Mum?”
“We came home early.” Her statement hangs in the air.
As embarrassed as I am, there’s something in her regard of us that gives me pause. It isn’t her confusion, or shock that has me worried, but something more disconcerting. A look in her eyes that I don’t quite understand. It’s only as she fixes her gaze on me that I see what it is.
Sympathy.
Why do I get the feeling she knows something I don’t?
21
After Jane’s unexpected return, I quickly excused myself and went to the refuge of my room, the look she gave me lingering in my mind. Did I read it wrong? Could it have meant something else? If so, why can’t I shake the feeling that there’s something I’m missing?
I stand in the shower a long time, the water a symphony to my troubled thoughts. It wasn’t only Jane’s reaction that’s thrown me off. There was also the conversation Jonah and I had right before it.
You have me.
The moment he spoke those words, the conviction he gave them, I felt this sense of relief, as though all my anxieties were lifting. And yet, for the briefest moment, I was afraid. Because I realized how much I needed to hear that. How much I needed him.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap the towel around me and walk, absentmindedly, to the bedroom. I’m halfway there when I see someone sitting at the edge of my bed.
“Oh my god!”
“Sorry.” Jonah gets up, an apologetic look on his face. “I knocked, and the door was unlocked, so I thought I’d wait.”
I let out a long, slow exhale. “You scared the life out of me.”
“You okay?” he asks, coming over and running his fingers through my wet hair.
“Once my heart stops racing.”
His lips curl into a grin. “Good to know I can still make your heart race.”
As though to prove it, my pulse quickens. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see if you were alright.”
“You mean after your mom caught us together? I’ve hardly thought about it.”
He chuckles at my obvious lie. “Look, I want you know that it’s not about you, the way my mum reacted.”
That he noticed it too doesn’t bring me any comfort. “She’s not happy about us, is she?”
“It’s...” He hesitates, dropping his hand from my face. “Just try not to worry about it, alright?”
“Are you going to tell me what it’s about?”
The crease in his brow deepens. “I can’t right now.”
“Why?”
“I need you to trust me.”
The pit in my stomach twists, and I step away. “You know, Joel used to say that to me.” When I look at him, I see his face tense.
“I’m not Joel, Charlotte. I will never lie to you, and I will never do anything to hurt you.”
“But you can’t tell me what’s going on?”
“I can’t right now. But I will. I promise.”
I move over to the edge of the bed and take a seat. There’s magnitude to what he’s asking. Trust is a gift not easily given. Especially when it’s been used against you.
But without it, there’s no hope for any of us.
“Okay,” I tell him, pushing aside my hesitations. “I’ll trust you to keep that promise.”
The tension releases from his brow, and he sits down next to me. “Thank you.”
We both stare out the window and into the garden beyond. The sun is still high, not yet ready to make its descent. Birdsong floats into the room, bringing some tranquility to my frayed mind.
“I thought we had another day,” I say, disheartened. “I know it’s going to sound strange, but it’s like we’ve been living in a bubble. But things aren’t going to be the same anymore, are they?”
“I meant what I said earlier.” He takes my hand in his, entwining his fingers with mine.
I try to swallow my worry, but I can’t. “I’m leaving in five days, Jonah.” The words, once out, take on a power of their own. “I’ve tried not to think about it, but we can’t keep pretending it’s not going to happen.”
He drops his gaze to our hands. “I know.”
“Can I ask you something?” I feel a swell of anxiety rise but attempt to ignore it. “Do you think we started this because we knew there was an expiration date to it?”
He turns to me with furrowed brows. “Is that what you think?”
I’m almost afraid to admit the truth. “No. It would be a hell of a lot easier if that were the case. But no.”
“Me neither,” he says with sincerity, staring back out the window. When he looks at me again, there’s determination in his eyes. “Will you go somewhere with me?”
“Where?”
“You’ll need to pack light, only what can fit in a backpack.”
“Backpack? What are you talking about?”
Kissing me quickly, he gets up from the bed and walks toward the door. “Meet me at the car in half an hour.”
“Jonah,” I press.
“Half an hour,” he repeats. “Pack enough for a night away.”
I watch in confusion as he leaves. What the hell is he talking about. A night away where?
* * *
Jonah is waiting by the car when I step out the front door. He’s wearing gray chinos, a black t-shirt, and white trainers. His change of clothes gives no indication of where we’re going, but I’m relieved to see my choice of a denim skirt and a blue boat neck top doesn’t have me underdressed.
“You should know,” I tell him, handing over my backpack, “that I hate surprises.”
He puts my bag in the trunk next to his rucksack. “You’ll like this one.”
When we get into the car, Jonah hands me his phone. “You can be in charge of the music.”
“How far away is this mystery location?” I ask.
“About an hour and a half.”
I look at the clock and see that it’s nearly five o’clock. Jonah reverses out of the parking space, his face close to my own as he checks his blind spot. I can’t help but be reminded of that morning he drove me to Utah. Even then, as infuriating as he could be, I couldn’t deny how attractive he was.
He sees me staring and smiles. “What’s that look about?”
“You,” I say, but offer no other explanation.
His smile broadens, and he leans forward, kissing me, his lips lingering on mine. “You ready?” he asks, moving the car out of reverse.
“I have no idea where we’re going,” I remind him.
“You pick the soundtrack. I’ll get us there.”
We turn onto the street, our mysterious journey beginning. I scroll through Jonah’s playlist, unfamiliar with a lot of the artists. “Who’s Paolo Nutini?”
“You don’t know Paolo?” he asks, surprised.
I randomly select a song called “No Other Way.” It comes through the speakers with vibrancy followed by an incredible
unique voice.
“Wow,” I say, impressed. “Where’s he from?”
“Scotland.” Jonah merges onto the main road. “I saw him play a few years back at Glastonbury, and he was amazing.”
As we drive out of Bayeux, Jonah starts singing along. Not only is he in complete harmony with the song, but his voice has a rich cadence to it. I stare at him but don’t dare say anything in case he stops.
When he catches my eye, he trails off. “What?”
“You can sing,” I say, stunned.
“Not really.”
“You’re singing perfectly in key. Why the hell were you only a leper in your high school play?”
“Because I don’t like singing in front of people. I begged my teacher to give me a small role, and then never sang on stage again.”
“Well, that’s a shame,” I say with a coy smile. “I happen to find it incredibly sexy.”
“Is that so?” He glances at me, his brow lifted. “Am I going to get to hear you sing then?”
“Hell no.” I laugh. “My musical talent unfortunately does not reach my voice box. I let Billie do all my singing for me.”
“Billie?”
“Billie Holiday. I adore her.”
“She was a jazz singer, right?”
“Yeah.” I search through Jonah’s Spotify and find the song I’m after. “This is my favorite song.” “I’ll be Seeing You” comes softly through the speakers. “She had the most remarkable voice. You can feel her emotions through her singing.” I close my eyes and listen to the song, feeling it move through me. When I open them again, I see Jonah smiling.
“You get that same look on your face when you play.”
“Do I look ridiculous?” I ask, self-conscious.
“It’s beautiful,” he says with sincerity. “You’re beautiful.”
I couldn’t stop my smile if I tried.
* * *
It’s nearly six thirty when Jonah turns off the road and onto a small street. There’s nothing around to indicate where we are. Somewhere southwest of Bayeux is all I can decipher. My confusion increases when Jonah pulls into a busy parking lot, finds a spot, and parks the car.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Where are we?”
“Come on.” He gets out of the car and takes our backpacks from the trunk. Handing me mine, he throws his over his shoulder and locks the car. “It’s this way,” he says, reaching for my hand and leading me across the parking lot.
There’s a light breeze, the smell of salt carrying on the air. Though I have a hundred questions, I don’t ask any, letting Jonah’s surprise play out.
“Perfect timing,” Jonah says when we get to another parking lot. A shuttle bus waits, and we head towards it.
I can’t make sense of it. We just parked the car, and now we’re getting into a bus. Once inside, Jonah tells me to take the window seat. I oblige and stare at him, trying to read anything off his stoic face.
The bus leaves not long after, and we slowly pull out onto the main road. I look out the window as we pass a hotel and a restaurant. The land opens to large, flat fields. Though there doesn’t seem to be a lot around, there are plenty of people, many of them taking photos. It’s only as I follow their line of sight that I see it.
In the distance is what I can only describe as something from a fairytale. An island with what appears to be a castle on top of it.
“Is that where we’re going?”
“Mont-Saint-Michel,” he explains. “The abbey is from the eleventh century. And some of the buildings in the town below are over four hundred years old.”
The road turns into a bridge. There are groups of people walking on either side, some going in the direction of the Mont, others back toward the mainland. When we reach the terminus, I step out of the bus and stand, staring in awe at the place.
“Jonah,” I say in amazement. “This is incredible.”
“I told you it was a good surprise.”
The entire island is fortified, and we walk through the entrance gate and into a small stone courtyard. It’s like something from medieval times, the archways and cobblestone streets from a bygone era. The narrow lane curves around, and as we follow the path I see shops, restaurants, and signs for hotels.
“You can stay here?” I ask in surprise.
“Where did you think we were going to sleep tonight?”
I’m too shocked to form a reply. I’ve never seen any place like it.
“More specifically, there,” Jonah says, pointing toward the red awning of a hotel.
The charming building is five stories high, with flowers and foliage adorning each of the street-facing windows. He holds the door open for me, and I walk into the quaint lobby, taking in the picturesque interior as he checks us in.
Once he has the key, we climb up a spiral staircase to the third floor. Jonah goes to a door at the end of the hall and opens it, light pouring out into the corridor.
I walk inside, my eyeline going straight to the windows. Our room overlooks the bay, and from where I stand you can only see ocean and sky beyond the glass. As I move closer, the town below comes into view, visitors walking through the winding lane beneath the brick and stone of eighteenth century rooftops.
“This is unbelievable,” I say, turning away from the window.
Jonah puts his backpack on one of the armchairs, and I glance around the room. It’s not large, just enough space for the queen bed, a side table, and a small sitting area. The walls are painted cream, and the décor is modern with navy blue accents.
It’s the view, though, that I can’t get enough of.
“This place is magical,” I say, glancing back out at the water.
Jonah comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I had a feeling you’d like it.”
“Thank you,” I say, turning to face him. “For bringing me here.”
He leans down and kisses me slowly. “You’re welcome.”
For the next couple of hours, we walk around the island, visiting the abbey, taking photos from every turret, outlook, and spire we can get to. As evening sets in, the day visitors start to leave, and the lanes become less and less busy.
On a west-facing turret, I watch the last of the light fade beyond the horizon. Jonah calls my name, and as I turn to look at him he takes a photo with his phone. I’ve never loved having my picture taken, but here, in this place, I’m only happy to have the memory of it.
“Will you stay?”
He asks the question so casually that at first I don’t even think it’s directed at me. When I glance back at him though, I see him waiting for an answer.
“What did you say?”
“Will you stay?”
“At Mont-Saint-Michel?” I ask, confused.
He gives me a lopsided grin and shakes his head. “I’m in France until the end of July. That would give us a month to figure out what to do next.”
“You want me to stay in France?”
He watches me with a determined look in his eyes. “We have the barn, and we can stay there. After that, maybe you could come back to London with me.”
“London?” My brain takes a second to catch up.
“I know there’s a lot to think about. But we can give ourselves the time to do it. And that’s all I want. Time, with you. As much as I can get.”
“Jonah.” I search for something, anything, to say but can’t form the words.
“Don’t say no,” he begs. “Say nothing if you have to, but don’t say no.”
“I...” Closing my mouth, I realize I don’t know what answer to give him. As surprised as I am by his offer, it’s not unwelcome. Far from it. “This is crazy. We’ve only known each other three weeks.”
“It’s arbitrary.”
“What is?”
“Everything,” he says. “Time. Who we meet, when we meet them. How we feel about them.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s all relative. I’m saying that yo
ur grandfather knew he loved your grandmother after only ten days. I’m saying I knew after five.”
“You knew ... wait, what?”
He walks the three paces to reach me. “I love you, Charlotte. That’s what I’m saying.”
My heartbeat hammers in my chest. “You love me?”
“Yes.”
He says it so confidently, without an ounce of uncertainty. “How?”
“How?” he asks with a laugh. “You mean, how do I know?”
I nod, only because I’m not exactly sure what it is I’m asking.
“You remember that night we stayed in Tamerville?”
“Of course.” It wasn’t only where Jonah confessed how he felt about me, it was also where we first slept together.
“Then you remember the next morning.” I don’t think I could ever forget. “You saw me in my grief,” he says. “You shared your own with me. And in that moment, I’d never felt so connected to someone in all my life. And that’s when I knew.”
I’m speechless. To know he’s felt that way about me all this time moves me beyond words.
“You don’t have to say anything back,” he tells me. “I just wanted to—”
I kiss him fervently, my emotions surging. The words I couldn’t find come flooding to the surface. We part, our breathing labored, and I lift my eyes to his, needing him to see me. “I love you too.”
His smile is fast, and he pulls me to him, kissing me with abandon. Though the last of the light has faded, giving way to night, the turret we’re on is illuminated by a nearby streetlight. The sound of distant conversation comes closer, and we break apart, aware that our PDA is bordering on something else entirely.
“Come with me,” Jonah murmurs, taking my hand in his.
The lanes are practically empty, the shops having closed hours ago. There are a few passerby in the distance though, so we turn down a small alley cloaked by darkness.
We’ve hardly reached the corner before Jonah’s mouth finds mine. He kisses me greedily, my body instantly responding to it. Pressing me against the wall, he reaches beneath my skirt and pulls down my underwear. I moan in delight as his fingers caress me, the sound carrying down the lane.
The Sea of Lost Things Page 19