by Tara Sivec
“Oh, sweetheart, it looks beautiful!”
Turning around, I smile at my parents, who are standing behind me, staring up at the inn.
I join them on the sidewalk, giving them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek. My father squeezes me a little harder than usual before pulling back and smoothing my hair back from my face.
“You look tired. Are you sleeping? And you’re too skinny. When was the last time you ate?”
I laugh at his concern, thinking he sounds a hell of a lot like Trip, and step out of his arms. “Dad, I’m fine. Just busy with the inn, you know how it is in the summer.”
He looks away guiltily and I kiss his cheek again, trying to reassure him without words that he has nothing to feel guilty about. At twenty-one, when I saw how much of a toll the inn was taking on my elderly parents, I stepped in and convinced them to take it easy, retire, and enjoy the island without having the burden of an inn to run. I spent months slowly taking over the tasks they each handled. Eventually, they realized that I could do everything and, more importantly, that I wanted to. They saw how happy working here and running things made me and they reluctantly stepped back and transferred the inn to my name. I’m sure they know how much I struggle to keep the place going even if I don’t share all of the gritty details with them and every time they stop by, I can see it written all over their faces that they wish they could help out more. I spend half of our visits convincing them that I don’t need their help and they should never feel bad about retiring and not having extra money to give me when I’m neck deep in bills. Taking over the inn when I was in high school and having to make so many repairs on the poorly maintained building wiped out their entire savings account. Even if they had the money to give me, I would never take it. It was my decision to run the inn and it’s my responsibility.
“Is Trip around? I need to ask him about a leaky faucet we have in the kitchen,” dad asks, looking around the property.
“He’s upstairs in the Marblehead room putting a new handle on the bathroom door,” I let him know.
Dad pats me on the shoulder before disappearing up the stairs.
“Do you have a few minutes for your meddling old mother? I feel like we haven’t talked in ages,” Mom says with a smile.
Linking our arms together, we head across the front yard and around the back of the inn to the veranda. She takes a seat in one of the rocking chairs while I walk over to a side table and grab us each a glass of fresh, sweet iced tea from the two-gallon glass beverage dispenser that I refill twice daily.
Handing her a glass, I take a seat next to her and start sipping my own.
“Did you put fresh mint in this?” she asks.
“Yep,” I reply.
“Hmmm, it’s delicious.”
A few silent minutes pass before she asks another random question.
“Are those new beach umbrellas down there? I don’t remember them being yellow and white striped.”
She points her glass to the umbrellas we stick in the sand every morning for our guests.
“Uh, no. Those are the same ones that we’ve used for a few years.”
“Hmmm,” she replies absently again, taking a sip of her tea.
“Spit it out, Mom.”
She sets her glass down on the table between us and turns to face me.
“Is it that obvious?”
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t stop by to talk about mint and umbrellas, so yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” I reply.
She looks out at the ocean and the families lying on the beach a few hundred yards away before sighing deeply.
“I ran into Fisher in town yesterday.”
My stomach flips like I’m going down a hill on a roller coaster and my heart starts beating faster.
“Really? What did he have to say?” I ask calmly, not letting on that I’m dying to know how he looked, what he said and what he did.
I have a moment of sheer panic that he blurted out what happened in the alley and contemplate running inside and hiding in a closet.
“He loves you, Lucy,” she says softly.
My head whips around to face her and my mouth drops open.
“THAT’S what he said?” I ask in shock.
She laughs lightly and shakes her head at me. “No, not in so many words, but I’m old and I’ve been around long enough to know when I’m looking at a tortured man who misses his wife.”
“Ex-wife,” I remind her.
She waves her hand in the air and scoffs. “Only on paper.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Um, I’m pretty sure that’s the only place that matters.”
“You’re still his wife where it counts – in his heart and soul. I can see it when he says your name and I’m wondering when you’re going to see it, too,” she muses.
I shake my head and roll my eyes, wiping each bead of condensation off the glass in my hands to give me something to do. I suddenly feel nervous and anxious and like there are so many emotions flying through my heart and my mind that I can’t make sense of any of them.
“It’s complicated, Mom. I’m seeing someone and Fisher… It’s just complicated,” I try to explain.
“Love isn’t easy, sweetheart. I know you went through a lot with Fisher and I know it’s hard for you to trust him, but he’s trying. He’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing. He wants to be a good man for you. He wants to take care of you and love you and I don’t think…”
She pauses, taking a deep breath and trying to collect her thoughts.
“You don’t think what?” I whisper, pushing her to continue.
She reaches across the table between us and grabs my hand. “I don’t think Stanford will ever be the kind of man you need. The kind of man who will love you with so much passion and devotion. The kind of man who will take care of you, but also step back and let you be strong on your own.”
I swallow back tears and squeeze her hand to let her know that I’m not offended by what she’s saying about Stanford. I’ve been having the same thoughts about him myself lately, so it’s not like this is news to me. Right now, I’m more concerned about the passion part of the equation between Fisher and I. It’s something I want and need, but it’s also something he seems to be afraid of.
“How do I know Fisher will be that man?” I ask. “He was for the longest time and I never thought anything would tear us apart. He said such awful things to me before he left the island. I can’t just forget about them or pretend like none of it happened.”
“Of course you can’t pretend like they never happened, Lucy. They broke your heart and they changed you. I don’t think he expects you to forget and instantly forgive him. He knows he has a lot of work to do to earn back your trust and he knows he has a lot of explaining to do. All I’m asking is that you give him a chance to explain. Give him a chance to show you that he never meant to hurt you.”
It sounds so easy when she says it. Hand him my heart once again and trust him to take care of it. But it’s not easy. It scares the shit out of me. I might be able to forgive what he said to me when he wasn’t in his right frame of mind, but he’s still the one who decided to end things permanently with divorce papers. He’s still the one who had his hands all over Melanie and did God knows what with her while he was still wearing my ring on his finger. How am I supposed to forgive those things?
“He was a broken man, Lucy, and I know he broke you right along with himself. War doesn’t just change the Marine, it changes everyone who loves him. I didn’t think I could ever forgive him for hurting my baby, but seeing him yesterday and listening to him talk about you and what you mean to him… Just give him a chance.”
The guilt is back in full force and I have to let go of my mother’s hand, set down my glass and wrap my arms around myself to hold it together. I don’t know what was going on in his mind last year when I came home and found him packing my things and he said such hurtful words to me, but I know it was bad. He’d been slowly closing himself off from me for weeks and I’v
e always felt like a failure for not doing more for him. I tried so hard, but it wasn’t enough. I would have given everything to stay and help him, but how could I when he didn’t want that? I want him to be honest with me, to tell me what happened that day and help me understand why he felt like divorce was the answer to all of his problems.
I feel like a hypocrite for wanting Fisher to bare his soul when I’ve done nothing but alternately avoid him like the plague and seek him out only to behave like a shrew. I’m not sure if I’m prepared to forgive him for what he did to me, but I know he doesn’t deserve my anger right now. We never had a problem talking until the end of our relationship. Having lunch with him at the Lobster Bucket a few weeks ago and falling right back into our old ways made me miss the ease of being with him. I’ve tried so hard to forget him, to move on and be happy, but as soon as he reappeared in my life, I realized letting go was impossible when I still love him. I’ve tried to avoid it, I’ve tried to pretend like I was just confused being close to him again, but I can’t do that anymore.
I love him and I’m scared to death that he’ll break my heart all over again.
Chapter 27
From Fisher’s Journal
January 23, 2006
My parent’s 24,000 square foot home is filled to the brim with guests and caterers and I stare out of my old bedroom window watching more and more cars come up the drive to be parked by the valets my mother hired.
I tug nervously on the pale blue tie of my black tuxedo, trying to loosen it so I don’t feel like I’m suffocating. My palms are already sweating and my hands are shaking, so I really don’t want to add passing out to the mix. I wish I could say that it was just wedding day jitters making me feel this way, but that would be a lie. The only thing keeping me from jumping out of this second-story window is the knowledge that I’m marrying Lucy today. The problem I’m having is with all the people. So many fucking people. Since I got back from my deployment, I’ve avoided large groups of people, preferring to be alone working on my furniture or curled up somewhere in the house with Lucy. I can’t handle all the noise, all the chatter and all the questions that come along with being around so many people.
“Oh, honey, your tie…”
I continue staring blankly out the window as my mother rushes across the room to me, fiddling with my tie and making it tighter than it was before. She runs her palms down the front of my tie to smooth it down when she’s finished and then takes a step back to look at me.
“Perfect! You look so handsome, Fisher!” she moves back and buttons the coat of my tux, brushing the shoulders and the sleeves of the jacket to get rid of any lint or stray hairs while she prattles about shit I don’t care about. “The guests have almost all arrived and the caterers are passing out hors d’oeuvres and champagne while they wait to be seated. Wait until you see the flower arrangements I ordered for the reception. I had blue hydrangeas and orchids flown in to match the wedding colors…”
I tune her out and try counting backwards from a hundred in my head. Even being a floor above all the guests and workers, I can still hear the hum of their voices and laughter, the clink of glasses and the slamming of doors. My ears start to ring and my head aches with so much pressure that it feels like it might explode. I want peace and quiet… I want Lucy. I need Lucy to wrap her arms around me and whisper in my ear that everything is okay.
I must have muttered Lucy’s name out loud while my mom was droning on about food and decorations because she crosses her arms and glares at me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“You cannot see the bride before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” she informs me.
No, bad luck is not getting the wedding you wanted, the small, intimate gathering of close family and friends on the beach at sunset. Bad luck is this circus going on downstairs with hundreds of people Lucy and I have never met before. My father was against the wedding from day one, but he certainly is playing the part of a proud father of the groom today, inviting everyone he’s ever done business with and kissing ass as soon as they walk in the door. He’s been parading people around “The Estate” all morning, showing off expensive artwork and the like, smiling his fake smile and laughing his fake laugh whenever anyone asks him if he’s excited to become a father-in-law today.
A loud crash sounds from somewhere in the house and I instinctively cover my head and drop to the ground. I hold my breath and wait for the sound of gunfire and explosions to fill the air, but nothing comes. I suddenly feel my mother’s hand on my shoulder and I shake my head to clear it, feeling like a complete idiot.
“Fisher?” she whispers nervously as I push myself up from the floor and take a few deep breaths.
I’m not in the desert, I’m in my parents’ home. Everything is fine, I just need to calm down.
“I’m fine, mom, it’s nothing,” I tell her distractedly as I walk around her and head towards the door. There’s no point in admitting I just had a flashback. I’m pretty sure she realized that as soon as I dropped to the ground and wrapped my arms around my head.
I need Lucy. I don’t care what tradition says, I fucking need to see her right now or I’m never going to be able to calm down. I need to see that she’s safe and happy and hasn’t changed her mind about marrying into this fucked-up family.
As soon as I get out in the hallway, I pick up my pace, jogging down the hallway until I come to the staircase leading up to the third floor. I take the steps two at a time, my heart beating faster and my spirits lifting the closer I get to the room Lucy is in. When I get to the top of the stairs, I take off running full speed, my tie flying out behind me as I head towards the opposite side of the house.
I don’t even stop to knock when I get to the closed double doors at the end of the hallway. Grabbing onto both handles, I throw open the doors and step inside the huge room that my mother had set up for Lucy to get ready in. Mirrors line every wall and make-up and hair products clutter the tables, but I only have eyes for the woman standing on the far side of the room in front of a floor-to-ceiling window.
She is the single most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
I finally stop moving and start breathing again when I see her. The winter sun shines brightly through the window, surrounding her like a halo, and she looks like an angel. She IS an angel. She’s my angel and she keeps me grounded and watches over me, always taking care of me. The last few months have been hard on both of us, but Lucy has never let it show. She doesn’t protest when I want to stay inside the house, away from other people; she just curls up with me on the couch and tells me how much she loves me. She doesn’t get scared or look at me with pity if I have a nightmare and wake her up in the middle of the night; she just wraps me in her arms, talks to me about stuff that happened on the island while I was gone and tells me she missed me.
It’s a strange thing, feeling like you can’t breathe without another person. Physically, I know I’m breathing and my heart is beating when she’s not around, but in my soul, it feels a movie that’s been paused, waiting for someone to come back into the room. When I’m away from her, I feel like my life is on hold and she’s the only one who can restart it.
“Jesus… You are stunning,” I whisper as I take her in from head to toe.
She’s wearing a strapless white dress that hugs every curve of her body and her hair is curled in soft waves all around her face and hangs down her back. I smile, knowing that she was able to win at least one argument with my mother about this wedding. My mother thought she would look best with her hair piled up on top of her head, but Lucy refused, knowing that I love it best when it’s down and natural. Her veil is attached somewhere in her hair and it hangs down her back, trailing on the floor behind her. She grabs onto the fabric of her skirt and sweeps it out of the way as she turns to face me.
I take my time walking across the room so I can enjoy staring at her. When we’re standing toe-to-toe, she looks up at me and smiles.
“Does your mother know you’re in here? I was give
n strict orders to stay away from you until the ceremony,” she tells me with a laugh.
Wrapping my hands softly around her neck, I rub my thumbs back and forth against the smooth skin of her cheeks. I’m afraid to touch her anywhere else and mess up her hair and make-up, but I can’t be this close to her and not put my hands on her.
“I don’t give a shit what my mother says. I needed to see you.”
Lucy’s face lights up, but then it quickly morphs into concern as she stares into my eyes.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asks softly, bringing her palms up and pressing them against my chest.
I smooth a wayward curl out of her eyes with the tips of my fingers and smile down at her.
“I am now. I just needed to see you,” I reassure her.
She moves into the circle of my arms, sliding her hands down and around my waist before resting her cheek against my chest.
“You’re going to mess up your hair and make-up,” I protest, even though I’m already wrapping my arms around her and pulling her closer.
“It doesn’t matter,” she tells me, squeezing her arms tighter around my waist. “Nothing matters but this, right here. None of those people downstairs matter, none of the elaborate decorations or food matters, nothing is more important than us, right here, right now. I love you, Fisher, and even though we didn’t get our wedding on the beach by the lighthouse, this is still the happiest day of my life.”