by Sarah Turtle
Willa dropped her hands to her hips. “Hey, maybe I don’t have gigantic muscles bulging out of my arms like you do, but I’d say that I’m pretty well toned.”
“I never said that you aren’t. I can guarantee you watch yoga videos at home, do some squats, and most likely have a pair of five-pound dumbbells that you keep under your bed. What I’m saying is that it might be beneficial for you to have a personal trainer give you some lessons on how to use the machine that just scared the crap out of you, and maybe make the most out of your gym membership.”
“Let me guess, you read that article written by a crazy fan who stalked me for an entire day, and released every aspect of my personal life in his blog. It was filled with private details of my day, including my workout habits and even the color of my underwear.”
“I’m not into reading internet gossip, although the part about your underwear might make it worth my time, but I can read a person’s body type and tell what their workout routine consists of.”
Willa reached up and grasped onto one of the handles of the weight machine. “So, there are other people besides me that don’t know how to use one of these devices?”
“With a little personal training and lowering the amount of weight on it, you’d be fine. I could show you how everything works before you head back to the city, that way you don’t have to ask someone there for help.”
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer,” Willa said, once again not daring to make a solid plan. She glanced around the entire room, with a perplexed expression. “I can’t picture Dad using anything in here. If he wasn’t hauling traps, it wasn’t worth his effort. Why would he have a membership?”
“I think you’ll find your answer in his locker.”
Brynn made a quick motion, which spun one wheel until she was facing the other direction. She then pointed her chin towards a row of lockers on the far wall of the room.
Willa swung her injured leg forward, using the weight of it to propel herself forward with enough speed to keep up with Brynn, who was practically flying across the floor. More often than not, she used only the rear two wheels on her chair in a seemingly perpetual wheelie.
When she finally stopped to lean against the cool metal of the brightly colored lockers, Willa was biting down hard on her lower lip. She felt the gentle caress of a finger lightly rubbing through her cotton sweatpants, and the gauze pad covering the stitches on her leg. When she looked down, Brynn’s bright blue eyes, wide with worry, met her own.
“You shouldn’t be moving around so fast with fresh stitches in; they could tear.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I keep forgetting that.”
“Do you want to sit for a while first? There’s a bench over there.” Brynn pointed to a waiting area near the water fountain.
“No, no, I’m fine. Which locker was his?”
“Seventy-eight.” Brynn held out a tiny piece of paper with three sets of numbers scrawled on it. “Here’s the code to his combination lock.”
The tiny dials clicked into place as Willa spun them with the tip of her perfectly manicured thumb. When she entered the sixth and final number, she paused, and one hand came up to cover her lips so that the tiny gasp that she released was barely audible. “It’s our three birthdays.”
“I realized that myself a little while ago when I copied the numbers from our log book. Those were the digits that Dad—I mean, Henry picked out the day I gave him the lock, but I didn’t pick up on the significance of his choice at the time.”
“It’s okay for you to call him that. It’s been so long now that I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t a father figure to you. He thought of both you and Griff as his children. It should be evident how much he cared for you by this.” Willa handed the paper back to Brynn.
“Thanks, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it. Mom feels the same way about you too, you know? She’d be here now if she had the funds to get a flight back to Maine.”
“Tell her not to worry about it. I have so many other burnt bridges that I have to mend while I’m here, that I think seeing your mom again might be too much for me to handle.”
“Ha, yeah, although, she could help put Griff in his place.”
“She’s the only one that ever could,” Willa agreed.
“I seem to remember you having the same ability to make him listen to reason.”
“If I did at one time, I definitely don’t any longer.” Willa’s voice faded out with an insecure sadness.
“Hey, he’ll come around eventually.”
Willa nodded and turned her attention back to her task. The lock slid out with a little tug and she pushed up on the small metal lever that caused the door to fling open.
One might expect to find lots of things in a gym locker. The usual items consisted of sneakers, workout clothing, and a towel. Beyond that, some people keep gear like tennis rackets, swimsuits, or a basketball. Willa wasn’t sure what she was going to come across, but what was actually in there didn’t have purpose in this environment, and left her genuinely confused.
Two objects sat on the bottom of the locker. There was a coffee mug handmade out of fine pottery, with a lobster painted on the side of it. It was definitely something that her father would have loved, but not anything that he would ever think to purchase for himself. Willa eyed it strangely as she pulled it out of the locker.
“It was a birthday gift from Griff a few years back,” Brynn explained.
Willa nodded. That made more sense.
Below the mug was a hardcover book. Willa recognized, without removing it from its place on the bottom of the locker, what book it was. She had spent weeks working with artists, photographers, and graphic designers to come up with the perfect cover for her latest novel. Early on in her career, that was something that she had left up to her publishing company to create, but in recent years, it became a process that she enjoyed taking part in. To see her book as one of two cherished items, important enough to be locked away in safety, left her feeling melancholy.
She removed it carefully. This copy would be the last book that she had the honor of signing and sending out to her father. Immortalized on the title page were the words of gratitude that she meticulously chose and wrote out with a special fountain pen that he had given to her as a graduation present. That alone made it so much more valuable than any other book she would ever own. She faced Brynn, holding the book in one hand, the mug in the other, and raised her eyebrows in question.
“Are you ready?”
“For what?”
“I’m sure that you’re curious about what those are for, so I’m going to take you out on the daily routine that Dad and I used to share together.”
“I don’t want to intrude on something personal that you shared. Maybe you’d rather keep it as a memory between the two of you.” The truth was that Willa did want to know. She yearned to hear the stories of the years that she missed out on with her father. What she needed to know was that he lived out a fulfilling life with the people that he cared about in her absence. The only problem was that she didn’t think she was prepared to learn about those things right at this very moment.
“I think I need to share this for me, just as much as Dad would have wanted you to see it for yourself.”
“For you then…” Willa trailed off, agreeing reluctantly.
“We have a little walk ahead of us, but we can go slow, and tell me if you need to give your leg a break, okay?”
“I will.”
“Good, because Shannon’s a nice person, but I think she wouldn’t be too happy if I called her to come to our rescue two days in a row.”
Willa smiled at Brynn’s joke, but she knew deep down that Shannon wouldn’t mind in the least to help her again. She tucked the book under one arm and wrapped her fingers around the handle of the mug as she followed along Brynn’s side, careful to stay out of the path of her wheels.
The parking lot of the gym extended o
ut to the rear of the building, and a marked trail allowed members access to a private beach area where they could use kayaks or other rented water sports equipment from the gym. Willa assumed that they were headed in this direction, but instead, Brynn veered off to a different trail that was new to Willa. A tiny sign was posted at the entrance of the trail that read: Private Property, No Trespassing. Unlike the original trail that had a dirt surface, this one was constructed of boards.
When Brynn started to make her way down the path, Willa realized that without the boards, any sort of rain would make the ground otherwise impossible for her to use the trail in her wheelchair.
The distance to the base of the hill wasn’t very far, but due to the gradual decline that was needed to make it possible for a wheelchair to be able to get back up the ramp again, the path was made in a long, zigzag pattern that took a while to navigate. The width of the path wasn’t wide enough for her to walk next to Brynn, so Willa let her lead the way. She was reminded of the day she saw her at the clinic, and how fast she flew down the ramp. Brynn was very different now, moving slowly and pausing often to glance back at Willa.
Brynn had always been the strong one, the protector. Even in this moment, Willa could sense the power that she had, breaking out of the bounds that she was now restricted to, and yet still watching over her shoulder, keeping an eye on her slightly awkward friend.
At the base of the hill, where the tree line ended and the lush shades of the forest were replaced by the turquoise hues of the ocean, was a small clearing that sat high enough above sea level that the water wouldn’t reach it, even during high tide. Flat cement paving stones covered the ground in the entire area, creating a smooth surface, making it easy for wheels to roll on. The thin gaps between them allowed for drainage to the earth below when it rained.
There were only two things in the clearing. One was a wooden picnic table and the other was a small shed. Willa made her way over to the table, set the mug and the book down, and ran her fingers over the smoothly varnished surface.
“Each and every one is unique and yet it’s impossible not to be able to spot the craftsmanship behind a Henry Barton table. I doubt there’s a backyard in the Cove without one in it,” Brynn commented proudly about his work.
Willa liked the idea of a lasting legacy scattered about the island as a tribute to her father. This table was different compared to the others, though. One quarter of the table space on one side did not have a bench seat attached to it, and the leg underneath that section was curved so that there was plenty of space below it. Brynn took her place there, pulling into it and patting the seat next to her. When Willa came around to sit there, it was a little more worn down compared to the rest of the seat and there was a permanent ring stained into the surface where the coffee mug belonged.
“He built all of this, the ramp, the table, and the shed. He used a dolly to carry down the paving stones a few at a time for half a summer. This was our place; not even Griff comes down here.”
“It’s beautiful and secluded, but what’s the purpose? I mean, there are so many other much more accessible spots on the Cove just like this. Why put so much work into this?”
“It started out as what Dad called our lost project. The way he explained it, he had lost you to the city and I had lost everything I knew about myself. By working on creating this, we both knew that we were held accountable to each other to show up to work on it every single day, no matter how difficult things got.”
Willa swallowed with difficulty. The guilt of two people needing an escape because of her weighed heavily in her throat. “And what about after the project was finished?”
“Ah, that’s where the mug and the book come into play.” Brynn reached for the backpack slung over the back of her seat, then pulled out a second mug and a thermos. She filled Willa’s mug as well as her own with steaming coffee. “So, every time you have a new book release, we bring it down here and read a few pages together each day until it’s finished.”
Willa picked up her cup, tipped it towards her lips, and blew softly on the surface before taking a long, slow sip. She set the mug back down, turning it so that the lobster was facing her and then burst out in a fit of laughter.
Brynn watched, stunned, as Willa’s shoulders bounced up and down and she clutched at her stomach, unable to contain the roaring laughter from slipping out of her. When Willa noticed Brynn’s somber look, she calmed herself down and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if I come across seeming callous about your heartfelt story. You see, all I can think of is that my lobsterman father and my athletic best friend, neither of whom ever picked up a book for pleasure a day in their lives, actually got together to read every single day.”
Brynn glared back at Willa. Her cheeks twitched as she struggled to keep a straight face, but soon gave in, as a smirk spread over her lips. “It’s ridiculous, I know. We had to buy a dictionary to bring with us for the first few years, until we learned some of the weird ass words you insist on using to describe things.”
Willa slapped her hand on the table and again broke out into a chuckle, but this time Brynn joined in with her. “Please tell me you two did something other than have Willa Barton book club meetings?”
“Hell yeah.” Brynn pointed to the shed. “That sucker is packed tight with fishing gear.”
“Now that sounds more like the Dad and Brynn that I know…” Willa stopped herself when she realized that she no longer had her father in her life and she hardly knew anything about the person who Brynn was now.
Willa pulled herself forward on the bench and leaned as far up on her elbows as she could reach, hoping that she was far enough out of sight, so that Brynn wouldn’t notice the glimmer of moisture forming at the corner of her eyes. She hoped that if she busied her mind by watching the ripples of water break along the surface of the sea, that she could control the forces of anger and sadness colliding inside of her. All she needed was a few moments to push her emotions back down where they could remain hidden.
The theory of her plan sounded perfect in her mind, but a hand rubbing her back in soothing circles, urging the sorrow to release, interrupted it. Willa turned on her seat as she swung one leg over so that she was straddling the bench. She took Brynn’s hand from her back and cradled it into her hands where she could stare down at it, unable to look her in the face without breaking down completely.
“I don’t deserve your sympathy,” Willa choked out.
“Willa…”
“No, please let me explain why.” Willa aimlessly tugged at Brynn’s fingers while she formed the words that she needed to say. “While I appreciate more than you will ever understand, that you didn’t treat me with the contempt that the rest of this town has shown me, you are the one person who I need the opposite from.”
“I can’t do that to you…”
The tears flowed freely from her eyes. “I’m begging you, please yell at me, blame me, hate me for what I’ve done to you.”
Brynn pulled her hand away and Willa felt the severed connection shatter her as sobs shook through her. It was temporary, though, as a finger lifted her chin and a thumb swiped away a river of tears down her cheek.
“Look at me.” Brynn waited with a patient stillness until Willa’s dark eyes blinked away enough of the hurt to lock onto her gaze. “It never once crossed my mind that you were to blame for this.”
“But I pushed you.”
“Because I kissed you.” Brynn smiled and winked. “We can go back and forth like this all day.”
Despite trying to hold onto the guilt that she was still overwhelmed with, Willa couldn’t help but let a tiny bit of relief escape from her lips as they curved upward. She gripped onto the metal rim of the wheel between them and burrowed her face into Brynn’s neck. She squeezed her eyes shut and took in the warmth that emanated from her skin. Brynn wrapped an arm around Willa’s shoulders to pull her in closer and twisted her fingers into the long, thick strands of her curly hair. Toget
her, they stayed in the tight embrace for many minutes. Willa’s back was aching from being arched over, and the wheelchair tire was digging into her ribs, but she didn’t dare move, not wanting to separate from what she had dreamed of doing for twenty years.
A soft voice broke the silence and whispered in Willa’s ear. “Are you doing all right in there?”
Willa nodded into Brynn’s neck with a little sigh and a frown. “I’m selfishly enjoying that you still smell like home.”
“Home?”
“Mm-hmm,” Willa’s voice confirmed with a muffled sound that got lost in Brynn’s neck. “You smell exactly like you always did, and I’m glad that it hasn’t changed.”
“There’s still only one brand of bar of soap that you can buy at the Lighthouse General Store.” Brynn nestled her nose into Willa’s hair and inhaled. “You, on the other hand, smell very different than you used to.”
Willa lifted her head and raised one of her eyebrows. “Do you not like it?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just different.” Brynn paused, the intensity of her thoughts showing through squinted eyes. “Fancy.”
Willa giggled and pushed herself up off the wheel that was still lodged against her stomach. “So, when you attend those ridiculous Hollywood parties, they give you a gift bag filled with random cosmetics and perfumes. Recently, I got a bottle of shampoo which I fell in love with, so I ordered more of it, but when I got the bill, it was fifty dollars per bottle.”
“Fifty bucks for a bottle of shampoo?”
“Yeah, I hope fancy is a good smell because I plan on using every single drop of that stuff until the bottle is dry.”
Willa had always known Brynn to be so sure of herself in a confident way that she shared with her brother Griffin. They both had a sureness about them when it came to anything they said or did. Something changed now with Brynn, though, as she got quiet and she looked down in her lap. “Trust me, it’s good, and worth every penny.”