The Summer of Lost Wishes

by Jessa Gabrielle

  “Eileen was screaming hysterically, kicking and splashing like a fool, as if the blood weren’t already bad enough,” Mac says, shaking his head. “One second, she was wailing and the next, she was gone. Some nights, I still wake up in a cold sweat from that vision. It’s always Eileen, her arms in the air, water splashing around her, and then she’s pulled under so fast. Gone, just like that. She was the first to go. Fifty years later, I still see her out there.”

  Raymond was pulled under next, moments after Eileen. But Raymond fought, which only made it worse.

  “He screamed one good time before he was pulled under,” Mac says. “I still hear it, like a wild animal that’d been caught in a trap. You could hear the pain, the very moment before he died. The boat’s headlight was still on, and the water turned red. It was the worst thing I’d ever seen.”

  By then, the boat was half-submerged, still bumping into the rocks every few minutes but unable to stay close to them long enough to climb to safety.

  “It got quiet for a little while,” Mac says, nodding his head slowly. “We knew they were feeding, but the blood was going to draw in more sharks by the minute. It was a fact.”

  “What happened to Hanna?” I ask. My heart aches for her, knowing that her final moments included a break up, a canceled wedding, and watching your friends get eaten alive.

  “I thought we were going to make it out,” Mac says. “I really thought the worst was over, and we’d make it to the rocks. And then the rain came. Then the wind. The little bit of Warren’s boat we had left was tossed around, unable to balance itself. We were at the mercy of the storm, and she didn’t like us.”

  She had to have liked Seth, though. She let him survive, but she made sure she left her mark. Those mental scars will never fade away. It’s a miracle Mac is as sane as he is today. It’s like Mom said – sink or swim. Frank was forced to sink. Seth McIntosh decided to swim.

  “Hanna was thrown from the boat,” Mac says, looking back to the floor. “She was so small. She couldn’t hold her own weight against those winds. She was frozen with fear, completely panicked but still.”

  The ocean pushed the boat back against the rocks, slamming it forcefully enough to jam the broken propeller into a wedge.

  “We weren’t sure how long the boat would hold, so I told her to swim,” he explains. “She just kept shaking her head and crying. I yelled over and over – Swim, Hanna! Swim! – but she wouldn’t budge. She was terrified. She said if she moved, they’d come for her, and I told her if she stayed, they’d come for her sooner.”

  A warm, salty tear streams down my cheek, dragging my beautifully crafted makeup job with it. I lick my lips and taste the bitterness.

  “Warren said he refused to let her die, and he jumped in to get her. But they didn’t make it back to the rocks. Hanna was bitten first. She was still screaming when she was pulled under. It was the most awful sound, that gargling choking noise. Warren tried to fight his way free. He was swimming toward me and yelled for me to go. And then he was gone.”

  Mac exhales heavily before standing and walking over to the window. Tonight’s storm rages outside. Raindrops slam against the window the way Warren’s boat slammed against the rocks.

  “For fifty years, I’ve wondered if I should have gone back and told someone what happened, but I couldn’t,” he says to the window pane. “I guess some people would call it survivor’s guilt. But when I came back, I heard the rumors, the theories. If this town found out that I made it out alive, that I ran and didn’t look back, it would make me guilty just because I lived.”

  I never thought I could be more protective over Seth McIntosh than I was upon reading those letters, but I think my defense mechanisms are on high alert right now. I dare anyone to blame him. I dare anyone to come after him. This little flamingo survived Shark Island. I can pretty much take on the world.

  “When did you come back?” I ask. My hair drips water down my face, but I think I’ve rid myself of my vanity. Everything in my life changed tonight.

  He turns back toward where we sit. “I took the letters the next morning and put them in the wall,” he says. “I knew Hanna’s family well enough to know that none of them would ever live there. It would be too painful. I couldn’t let anyone find them. I didn’t want Rosa to be connected to what happened. I had to protect her.”

  “You never told her?” Rooks asks.

  Mac shakes his head. “She’s never even met me,” he admits. “Well, you know, not as Mac. I came back in ’76, but she was married and about to pop any day. I knew she’d moved on, so I re-enlisted in the Navy. I didn’t come back here for good until about fifteen years ago. I’m a Coral Sands native. I finally needed to come home.”

  “And everyone lived blissfully unaware until Charlotte Davenport bought the Calloway Cottage,” I say out loud. “You were afraid we’d unravel your secret.”

  “That’s why I broke your window,” he says.

  “You can have your letters back,” I tell him. If I’d known it was actually Seth looking for Seth’s letters, I would’ve given them back in a heartbeat.

  Mac shakes his head. “I don’t need them now,” he says. “You keep them. They’re part of the Calloway Cottage. That’s why I volunteered to help with the renovations. I knew I shouldn’t have broken in. I never meant to scare you. I just couldn’t let you pull me under like the rest of them.”

  For the first time tonight, Rooks cracks up. “If anyone has had your back through this, it’s Piper,” he says. “I was the one who suspected foul play. But Piper? Never. The only arguments we’ve ever had were about your innocence.”

  Mac smiles and clamps a hand down on my shoulder. “Thank you,” he says. “But now I have to ask for your silence. Coral Sands needs to believe that Seth McIntosh died that night, and in a way, he did. I’m not that seventeen-year-old boy anymore, but I’m okay with letting that version of me go. I feel like now, he can finally rest in peace. He’s finally told his story. He and I both can let go and move on.”

  There’s no hesitation. Rooks and I both instantly agree to keep his secret. It’s ironic how my summer has been about unraveling the mystery of the Shark Island tragedy, and here it is, in a big pile of yarn, completely unraveled and standing before me. And all I want to do is wind it back up into a nice little ball of mystery. No one needs to know what’s on the inside. That’s for Rooks, Mac, and me.

  “I’m sorry you had to wait fifty years to tell us this story,” I say, trying to fathom the weight of that secret for so long.

  Mac shrugs. “Well, I had to wait for you guys to be born. It all worked out,” he says, with a hint of a smile. “I better get you guys home before this storm kicks back in. She knows what time of the year it is. It’s just her friendly reminder.”

  Rooks stands and grabs his wet jacket off the chair. “Thank you for coming after us tonight,” he says. “You literally saved our lives.”

  “I couldn’t save them,” Mac says, “but I knew I couldn’t make that same mistake twice. There is no need for thanks, Mr. Carter. I would’ve saved them if it’d been possible that night.”

  I remain wrapped in the blanket on the drive back over to our houses. It’s surreal that Seth McIntosh is actually driving me home – to the Calloway Cottage – nearly fifty years to the date that he died.

  “Your mom is probably spazzing,” Rooks says, looking ahead through the windshield. “When she got home and you weren’t back, you know she freaked. She’s probably blowing up your cell phone. My dad’s doing the same.”

  My cell phone is in the glove compartment of Rooks’ truck, along with my purse and the letters and my flamingo mask. Hopefully this storm won’t tear away that hidden key. I don’t think we could’ve been any more reckless and stupid than we were tonight, but I’m grateful for it. I’m honestly grateful that I’m one of those dumb teens who made a dumb mistake. All roads led to Shark Island, and Shark Island solved the mystery.

  “Oh God,” I say, remembering the one p
iece of the puzzle we’ve been forgetting all night. “Hector. He wanted us dead. He left us there for a reason.”

  Mac slows down before turning onto our street. “Why did he do it?” he asks.

  “He knows something about Ms. Rosa,” Rooks says from beside me. “I think maybe he knows that she had a relationship with you. He thought we were going to tell everyone, even though we never would have. We wanted to protect her as much as you did.”

  Mac smiles in the dim glow of the streetlights. “Well, Mr. Reyes wasn’t counting on Seth McIntosh showing up and finding redemption,” he says. “He’ll figure out soon enough that you guys made it out. Then he can see what it’s like to live in constant paranoia for a while.”

  Mac turns onto the street and pulls into my driveway. Mom and Mr. Carter stand on the front porch. Mom has her phone in her hand and an expression of worry on her face.

  “Oh, thank God! Where have you been?” she asks, rushing toward me when I step out of Mac’s truck. She hugs me tightly. “You’re soaked. What happened?”

  “The party sucked,” Rooks says. “So we went to the beach. We got caught in the storm, but Mac saw my truck and pulled in to see if we were okay.”

  “My apologies,” Mac says, stepping toward my mom. “I should have called, but I’m still of the landline era, and my electricity and phone lines are both down right now. I took them back to my house because I didn’t know how bad this storm was going to get.”

  I didn’t expect the lies to flow so easily. Rooks says we left our phones in his truck. Mac says his house was closer, so we sought refuge until it blew over. Mom and Mr. Carter are both just thankful we’re safe and that Mac was watching out for us.

  “Well, we’ll get the truck tomorrow,” Mr. Carter says. “All that matters is that you kids are here, you’re safe, and everything is okay.”

  And even though I look like a drowned flamingo, I know that Mr. Carter is right – everything is okay now.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Cell phone. Purse. Mask,” Rooks says, handing me each item one by one. “I was lucky as hell that storm didn’t wash my key away. I would’ve had to get Mac to break another window.”

  I nudge him with my elbow, but he doesn’t care. He grasps me in a tight hug and squeezes me. My hair is still a mess from last night’s storm, and I haven’t bothered to wash off the remnants of my flamingo makeup. In a way, I don’t want to. I want last night to last a little longer.

  “So, I have good news,” Rooks says, stepping back to he can face me. “My dad talked to my mom about how I’ve found such a good influence here, and he thinks I’d benefit a lot from sticking around.”

  My heart does a happy dance in my chest cavity before he even finishes telling me that he’s staying. Last night’s storm washed away all of my lost wishes, leaving me with nothing but sparkling fallen stars. I feel like they’re glowing around me, everywhere I turn. As crazy as it is, Shark Island has given me a second chance, one that I’m ready to actually take.

  “It’s official then?” I ask. “You’re really staying in Coral Sands, next door to me?”

  “Official,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Now we’ll both get to be Coral Sands Stingrays, and you’ll be obligated to come to all of my baseball games. It’s mandatory if you’re going to be my girlfriend.”

  “Oh, we’re making rules now?” I ask, pulling away. “In that case, as my boyfriend, you must defend Seth McIntosh’s honor when these crazy townsfolk start with the conspiracy theories. You know, since your girlfriend lives in what would’ve been his house.”

  “Deal,” Rooks says, leaning in and kissing me before I can stop him. “Speaking of Seth, we have a candlelight vigil to go to. For Hanna, Eileen, Warren, and Raymond, anyway.”

  In a sense, I feel like I knew them. Even though I’ve spent weeks with Seth and Rosa and their secret relationship, I see how much the other four people were as much as part of the puzzle. Knowing what their last moments were like, watching their deaths play out through Mac’s memories, makes me feel connected to them. They didn’t survive Shark Island, but they shouldn’t be associated with it forever. I just wish people knew the little things, like how Warren died trying to save Hanna or that Eileen was only there that night to comfort her best friend. That’s how I want to remember them.

  The crowds on the beach are overwhelming. Everyone stands with plastic cups holding long-stemmed candles and small bowls with tea light candles. I’m surprised Coral Sands has done this for fifty years without setting the beach on fire.

  Mayor Rhodes takes to a podium, thanking everyone for coming out tonight. She talks about last night’s celebration of life and how honored she is that so many people came out to enjoy a night of company, memories, and festivity.

  “On behalf of the Baker family, it means so much to all of us that this town helps keep these children alive, half a century later,” she says, her voice cracking at the word ‘alive.’ “So many people have been touched by the lives of Eileen, Warren, Raymond, Hanna, and Seth. It warms my heart to see new generations honoring their memories.”

  I slip my hand into Rooks’ hand and nod toward the parking lot. I wanted to be respectful, but I feel that standing here listening to a half-baked speech from a woman who never met any of them just isn’t the way to do it.

  “Let’s go somewhere,” I whisper.

  “Where?” Rooks asks.

  I shrug. “The Crane Pavilion?” I suggest. “Somewhere that’s symbolic of this summer. I can’t think of a better place than there.”

  We ease to the back of the crowd, trying not to be too much of a distraction as we slip away. I catch Natalie at a glimpse, holding hands with Hector near the podium. He doesn’t look our way, and I’m okay with that. Eventually, he’ll see that we survived, and like Mac said, he’ll have to live with that paranoia on his own.

  The streets are empty, aside from bouquets of flowers left along the sidewalks. I think Hanna would’ve liked them. They’re fitting for the memory of a small town princess.

  A few teenagers are engaged in a volleyball game when we arrive at the beach. A mom builds a sandcastle with her little girl. In the water, a boy teaches his friend how to use a boogie board. Life slowly moves along, continuing on in the wake of last night’s storm and today’s vigil.

  The docks hum with workers hauling in fish for the boom in business they’re about to receive after the crowd disperses later tonight.

  “And just like that, everything goes back to normal,” Rooks says as we stroll onto the sand. “Tomorrow will be a new day, deciding how to go even bigger next year for the celebration of life party. It’s like the day after Christmas, already thinking toward next year.”

  I grasp his hand in mine and lean against his arm as we walk down the beach toward the Crane Pavilion. I’m so thankful I don’t have to say goodbye to him. This Shark Island story actually does get to have its happy ending.

  We talk about the upcoming school year and how easily persuaded his mom was to let him stay with his dad. My mom is even happy about it. She’ll never admit it to me, but I think she’s grown to like the boy next door.

  “Piper,” Rooks says, nodding toward the pavilion in the distance. “I don’t think we should go. It’s sacred ground today.”

  I lean forward on my tip toes to see what he means, but it’s as clear as the bright moon last night before the storm. Rosa sits on the steps of the Crane Pavilion, away from the crowds with their candles. I bet she comes here every year. This was the last place where she was truly connected to him. She was returning the letters.

  I turn around to walk back to Rooks’ truck when a loud thud catches my attention. Rooks and I look back at simultaneously. There’s another loud whack, coming from near the Crane Pavilion.

  And we realize Rosa isn’t alone. Frank doesn’t bother her, and she doesn’t bother him. Maybe they have an agreement. He slams his ax into another piece of rotting wood and drags the broken pieces aside.

&
nbsp; “I told you he wasn’t a serial killer,” Rooks says with an accomplished smile.

  “You know what? I’m not even going to argue on this one,” I surrender.

  Secretly, I’m glad Frank has the Crane Pavilion. He may always be the creepy fisherman in my mind, but he’s also Warren’s brother, and that makes him okay by association.

  “Let’s just leave them to it,” I say.

  Rooks takes my hand, and we continue forth, allowing Frank and Rosa to mourn in peace.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Okay, keep them closed,” Mom says as Rooks leads me down the hallway.

  Our big open house is tomorrow, and Mom is a bundle of nerves and excitement. But this surprise in my bedroom has me worried. When Rooks came over at nine o’clock this morning and Mom demanded that I stay downstairs while they worked on my bedroom, I knew something was up.

  I’m still not completely onboard with this big unveiling of our house. It’s hypocritical. I can’t even deny that. It goes against everything I want to stand for. I don’t want to profit from the gimmick of the Shark Island tragedy. But at the same time, we’re shedding the old skin of this home and giving it new life.

  This house isn’t a house of lost wishes. It’s no longer a symbol of two lives lost. It’s a fresh start for me, for my mom, and for the Carters. The Calloway Cottage brought us all together. Mac even gave his blessing. Even if Coral Sands never knows the truth, Mac’s secret is free now, in a way, and it’s still safe. There’s a glow of light and hope in this house that wasn’t there before. We managed to catch all of the falling stars.

  “Alright,” Mom says, as Rooks turns me in a different direction. “Surprise!”

  I open my eyes to the most awesome wall décor I’ve ever seen. Delilah and Oliver should be jealous. She stands out like a rare diamond against the blue closet wall. She’s nailed in just above where we found the letters.

  “Where did you get her?” I ask, rushing over to the wall to touch her and see that she’s actually real.