The Seacrest

by Aaron Lazar

  She sniffled a little and went to the corner to blow her nose, turning back when she’d tucked the tissue into her sleeve. “When? When do you leave us?”

  I shrugged. “Not sure. We need to hire a replacement. A trainee. Or something like that. I can’t leave my horses and gardens in just anyone’s hands.”

  Libby sat up. “Your horses?”

  I grinned. “Well, yeah. They feel like mine.”

  She got up and brought her bowl and glass to the sink. “Well, you can afford to buy your own horses now, buddy boy.”

  I sighed and thought about it. “I guess I could. Hey, maybe I will. Would you sell me Popeye? I love that horse.”

  She frowned. “Hell, no. I’d never sell my old pal. He’s the best horse in the barn for a beach ride.” With a small smile, she went on. “But if you want, we can take a ride right now. It’s a beautiful night.”

  I finished my soup and drained the glass of milk. “Sounds good. Let’s go. I need to get some fresh air.”

  We thanked Fritzi and walked toward the barn. This time, the tension seemed to evaporate and we walked as if we’d been good friends for the past decade, as if we hadn’t been torn apart by my creep of a brother. Occasionally when we walked, her hand brushed mine.

  I didn’t push it. Much as I wanted to take her hand in mine and never let go, I held back. She wasn’t ready.

  Maybe I wasn’t ready, either.

  A lot had happened in the past few weeks. I had to be in some state of rebound, or whatever they called it. I pictured headlines in my mind, imagining how they’d portray me in a movie or book. Man loses wife. Man loses brother. Grief stricken widow seeks solace. Angry at life. Furious, really. Discovers all kinds of shocking secrets. Is completely betrayed by the last two members of his family.

  I smiled at my idiocy.

  Hell.

  What did it matter if my feelings were appropriate? I knew they’d been real since I was a teenager. It’s not like I suddenly fixated on Libby after losing Cora and Jax.

  Right?

  I gave myself permission to love her again, even if it was just in my head and if she never returned the feelings. They were authentic, all right. I’d just done one helluva job suppressing them for the past sixteen years.

  We reached the barn and quickly went to work brushing our mounts. Securing them in the crossties of the big barn aisle, we worked on removing dust from their bodies and combing out the tangles in their manes and tails until their coats gleamed and their manes curled in perfect cascades.

  “Bareback?” I said easily, as if we hadn’t been silent for the past fifteen minutes.

  “Best way,” she answered, slipping the bit into Dippy’s mouth.

  I bridled Popeye and we led the horses outside. Without asking, I gave her a leg up. Showing off a little, I leapt with practiced ease onto Popeye’s broad back and clucked to him to catch up to Libby and Serendipity, who had trotted off toward the dunes.

  She turned to me. “Let’s go,” she said, urging her mare into a canter.

  I pushed Popeye faster and reached her side in seconds. “Race you to the water.”

  She loosed a childlike grin and squeezed her horse’s sides. “Just try to catch me.” Serendipity flew into a gallop, and the race was on.

  Chapter 42

  May 15th, 1998

  7:35 P.M.

  I sat beside Eva’s crib, one hand snaked through the bars. She wrapped her little fingers around my finger and smiled at me. Five months old now, she’d become my best confidante in the house.

  “I have to go now, honey. Going to the prom.”

  Her beautiful green eyes watched me seriously, then she giggled and pulled herself up. “Grmnph?”

  “No, I’m sorry.” I stood and straightened my black jacket. “You can’t come with me this time.”

  I had the feeling this child understood every word I said to her. She seemed especially soulful when I poured my heart out to her about Libby.

  Libby, who still hadn’t answered my letters.

  Libby, who I still dreamed about nightly, and whose face haunted my dreams.

  “I know, I wish you were old enough, too.” I patted her pretty honey brown hair, which curled in soft ringlets at the back of her neck. “Maybe someday I can take you out to a special dance. Just you and your big brother.”

  I pictured my sister grown up, in a fancy green dress, with long hair and a sweet smile. I knew she was gonna be a knockout, and I’d have to protect her from guys. I’d knock them to the moon if they tried to touch her.

  She giggled and pulled herself to standing at the side of the crib, tilting her head and pointing to the rabbit on the floor. “Ba.”

  “Right you are. That’s your bunny.” I stooped to get it for her. “Here you go.”

  My father called from downstairs. “Son? It’s almost time for you to leave. Your mother wants pictures, you know.”

  I’d promised to bring Jenna Sullivan back to our house for a short course of photos after her parents tortured us with the same.

  Jenna Sullivan.

  A nice enough girl. Kind of smart. Good at sports. Decent to hang out with.

  But not my Libby.

  I leaned down to kiss Eva’s head, laid her down with her blanket and bunny, and said goodnight to her.

  She found her binky and began to rhythmically suck on it, playing with the silky border at the edge of her blanket.

  “G’night, little one.” I turned down the room lights so only her princess castle nightlight cast a soft glow in the room. “See you in the morning.”

  She mumbled a two-syllable response which I took to mean “night-night” and turned on her side, snuggling with her stuffed animal.

  My mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. Her face lit up when I came down, as if I were Cinderella’s prince or something. I felt kind of silly all dressed up, but I knew I would have broken her heart if I’d missed the prom, so I’d invited the least annoying girl I knew to come with me. I wouldn’t have gone if my mother’s heart hadn’t been set on it.

  She straightened my tie, smiling through tears. “Oh, honey. You look grand. So handsome!”

  My father handed me the keys to my car. “Come straight back now. We’ll be waiting.”

  I smiled at my dad, remembering the look of joy in his eyes on Christmas day, when we’d finally come home to open a few presents after Eva was born. He’d handed me a small box with a set of keys inside, and when I’d been blindfolded and brought to the barn to see that red Mustang I’d lusted after all summer and fall, I’d almost forgotten how miserable I felt about losing Libby.

  There it had been, all waxed and shiny and red.

  Mine.

  I’d slid into the cold leather seats, fingered the stick shift knob, and adjusted the mirrors. This was the best present my parents had ever bought me. I’d had to contribute to the costs of getting it on the road, had to buy new tires, and had almost depleted my summer savings, but it had been worth it.

  Working on the blueberry farm helped me make gas money for the week.

  I came back to reality and headed out into the mild May evening. Brine salted the air, and a few seagulls screeched as they floated on air currents overhead. The Mustang sat in the driveway, gleaming from the washing and waxing I’d worked on all afternoon. I’d put the top up since I didn’t want to mess up my date’s hair, and headed for her house.

  Chapter 43

  July 20th, 2013

  7:45 P.M.

  Popeye’s huge body surged beneath me, head-to-head with Serendipity. We lunged over the dunes leading to the shore, following a trail made centuries ago from The Seacrest to the water’s edge.

  Gripping hard, I leaned forward and urged him on. “Come on, buddy. Let’s win this.”

  He pulled ahead, hindquarters thrusting with swelling power, head stretched forward. The thrill of victory loomed within my grasp as we moved five feet, ten feet, then twenty feet into the lead.

  Surprise
d we’d seemingly advanced so easily, I glanced back to see Libby grinning. She’d been holding back, and now a glint of competition shot from her eyes. She urged her mare forward.

  Dippy was a light horse breed, with longer legs and a history of fast moving ancestors. Popeye’s half-draft horse genetics gave him power and durability, but not the fleet long-legged speed of the mare.

  She swiftly zoomed ahead, catching and beating us by several yards when we reached the water’s edge.

  Her face reflected pure joy; endorphins gleamed in her eyes. She laughed—a real belly laugh—and lay across her horse’s neck, shoulders shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Ha! I beat you, Finn McGraw.”

  It was contagious, and I couldn’t help but lose it myself, choking and chortling, wiping my eyes, holding my stomach. I flopped on Popeye’s neck and tried to catch my breath, watching Libby slip from her horse’s back to the sand below, landing lightly with her bare feet in a few inches of surging surf.

  To my surprise, her laughter turned to tears, and in a sudden change of mood, she began to weep uncontrollably.

  I jumped to the sand and put my arms around her. She sank into the water, and I followed, not caring that we were getting soaked. Both horses held their heads low beside us, their warm breath on our arms and faces. As if she’d held the tears in for all sixteen years, she cried against my chest, muttering terrible obscenities about my brother, whispering apologies to me, and hiding her face.

  Gently, I urged her to stand. “We’ve got to walk them, hon. They can’t just stand here after galloping.”

  She nodded, acknowledging my words. Dripping and covered in sand, we started to walk together. I led the horses with one hand and held her with my other arm. She leaned into me, hiccupping and heaving, and still crying.

  Finally, when she’d gotten it all out, she stopped and turned. “I’m sorry.”

  I held her close to me, and this time she didn’t pull away. “For what?”

  A small smile slipped onto her lips. “For losing it like that. I’m such a wreck.”

  “Me, too. Everything you said, I felt the same way. I yelled at both Jax and Cora at the gravesite this afternoon. And I still feel so angry, so full of…”

  Before I could finish my thought, she lifted her lips to mine and tentatively kissed me. Warmth surged through me, filling my arms and legs and other parts with such intensity I leaned down and lifted her, one arm under her shoulder and the other under her knees, all the while keeping my lips pressed to hers. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back, softly at first, and then more urgently.

  She pulled back for a breath. “Finn. My God. I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Me, too.” I said.

  She loosed her legs from my arm and wrapped them around my waist, pressing against me like the old days, kissing me deeper and with more ferocity.

  I returned her kiss with such urgency I felt again like I had at sixteen. Wanton. Full of love and lust. Completely filled with such love for my Libby I wondered if I’d lose it like I had as a teenager. My body reacted, blood rushing to areas clamoring for attention.

  When we came up for air again, she slid to the ground and took my face between her hands. “Oh, Finn.”

  The love shining from her eyes bore into me, weakening my stance.

  “I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore, Lib.” I said, holding her close. “It’s been hard.”

  Her eyes filled with tears again. “I’m so sorry for what I put you through. I was awful to you.”

  I nodded. “Uh huh. You were terrible.”

  She hit my arm. “Finn!”

  “But you can make it up to me, hon.” I said, loosing a salacious grin.

  She chuckled, glancing down at her feet. “The only good part is we don’t have to hide out in the cove or the barn anymore.”

  I realized she was right.

  We were adults now. We could use her room, if we didn’t mind receiving potentially scornful looks from her father or raised eyebrows from Fritzi.

  Or, we could go to the cottage.

  No.

  Too many memories of Cora there.

  “How about the farm? I bought a new bed, believe it or not. I’m slowly getting ready to move in. We’d have our privacy. No snooping servants or outraged fathers.”

  She laughed again, interlacing her fingers with mine. “I think my father has forgiven you for stealing my virtue all those years ago.” She kissed me again.

  We started walking, swinging our hands together. But the heat from her skin so close to mine made it hard for me to walk, I ached for her so badly.

  “I don’t know. Fathers don’t usually forgive such transgressions. I mean, he caught us in such a delicate position.”

  I thought back to the night we’d been found, me still inside her, ready to go another round. It didn’t do much for my concentration. I pulled her against me again. “But tell the truth, I don’t know if I can wait until we ride home and drive to the farm, Lib.”

  She looked down, appraising the situation with a sly smile. “Really.”

  “Uh huh.” I reached my arms around her waist, drawing her even closer. I moaned, unable to stop the sound escaping my lips. “Libby.”

  She seemed to wilt a little, slumping against me with what I hoped was desire. “Well, maybe for old times’ sake…”

  I looked toward the cove, and she nodded. Arms linked, we led the horses toward it.

  Chapter 44

  May 15th, 1998

  Prom Night, 7:50 P.M.

  I pulled the Mustang into Jenna Sullivan’s driveway a few minutes later. The oldest of seven girls, she was the first to attend a prom, and her exuberant redheaded siblings and parents crowded around the door when I entered. Mrs. Sullivan beamed at me with the same bright blue eyes that every daughter seemed to share. With carrot red hair curled into a shoulder length bob, she resembled Jenna, except for her daughter’s height. Jenna was almost five feet two, but her mom stood almost as tall as me. When her father greeted us, I saw where her petite height came from. Portly and bald, he extended a hand from his height of almost five foot three.

  “Good to see you, son.” He gripped my hand with a muscleman clamp that made me realize height didn’t matter one bit. I almost dropped to my knees, he crushed my knuckles so hard. The guy was an ox.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. Everyone knew Jenna and I weren’t dating, that we’d just reached out to each other because of the pressure to go to the prom. Matter of fact, I’d wondered about the rumors that had gone around school that maybe Jenna liked girls instead of boys, which was fine with me. No pressure after the prom to try to make out with someone I hardly even knew.

  Jenna came down the stairs dressed in a classy black and white dress. Her hair hung long on her shoulders, glistening with bright paprika highlights. She looked quite cool, because to throw the whole classy thing off, she’d fastened a bright purple flower to her waist and wore sparkly purple high heels.

  “Nice,” I said, nodding toward her dress.

  She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Thanks.” She turned to her mother with a sigh of resignation. “Mom? Take your pictures, let’s get this thing over with.”

  I laughed and stood beside her, the stiffness I felt fading away. The girl was a riot. Maybe we could actually have fun tonight.

  “I’m a rotten dancer,” I said, standing with her and smiling into the flash of the camera.

  She held a frozen smile, too, and nudged me. “Don’t worry. I’ll step on your toes more than you step on mine, guaranteed.”

  “Maybe we can just fast dance. I can fake that pretty well.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she whispered.

  We finally escaped from her family, drove to my house, went through the same routine, and with a sigh of relief, headed for the school.

  On the way, she made small talk, adjusting the big flower on her dress. “I hope this thing doesn’t fall off. I just used a safety pin.”

  “You ad
ded it yourself, right?”

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “I thought the dress was too boring.”

  “I like it,” I said, turning the corner into the already full lot at the school. “Purple’s cool.”

  “I dyed my shoes,” she wiggled her feet. “And added the sparkles.”

  “Very creative,” I said. “Maybe you’ll be queen or something.”

  With a raucous laugh, she slapped my arm. “That’d be the day! I’m so not-popular, those prom queen wannabees wouldn’t give me the time of day. Never mind the sycophants who swoon over them and who’ll be voting.”

  “Sycophants?” I mimicked, raising one eyebrow. “Nice word.”

  “What? You think I’m illiterate?”

  “No. I think you’re very smart.”

  “Okay. Back atcha. Here we go. Two smart nerds who barely know each other, ready to dance in each others’ arms all night.” She snorted a laugh.

  I parked and got out, running around to open the door for her. “I know you probably hate this chauvinistic stuff, but I swore I’d do it properly tonight.”

  Jenna laughed again. “Okay, I’ll let you be the guy tonight, and I might even let you lead.” She got out and took my offered arm. “Normally, I’d kick your ass for treating me like a weak little female.”

  I guided her into the door. “Normally,” I responded, “I’d never go to such a freak show. I just did it for my parents.”

  “Me, too.” With a wink, she leaned over the registration desk and gave them our names.

  I handed over the tickets, and we entered the gym that had been transformed from a wide-open smelly sweat sock cavern to a winter fairyland.

  Chapter 45

  July 20th, 2013

  8:30 P.M.

  My breath came faster now. Libby and I stopped to frantically kiss and press closely together several times before we reached the cove, which actually was down the beach a mile or more, well past the Vanderhorns’ property line.

  It was still there. And it beckoned as it had when we were teenagers.