by Jenny Hale
“We’re in Florida?” she asked, nearly unable to contain her excitement. Her whole life she’d wanted to go to Key West, and now, he’d made her dreams come true.
Jake nodded, that fondness once more in his eyes, and she had to catch her breath.
“Why are you doing all this for me?” She was so overwhelmed. She’d never really had anyone do anything for her and certainly nothing so spectacular.
“You said that you wanted to share it with someone. I’ve been here tons of times but I’ve never shared it with anyone. I wanted to share it with you in particular.”
“Why?” She was still trying to get her head around it all.
“Because I think you’ll see it the way I do. And because I wanted to watch your face when you got here.” He grinned at her, and she knew that the day was only going to get better.
By the time they’d disembarked, called a taxi and arrived in downtown Key West, it was nearly eleven o’clock. “I thought we’d get an early bite to eat,” he said. She was glad for that for two reasons: One, she hadn’t had anything since breakfast and her tummy was rumbling, and two, the champagne, coupled with the flight and everything that was going on between her and Jake, had made her feel lightheaded.
The taxi pulled up outside a gorgeous old red-brick building that looked almost like an enormous version of the Victorian homes she’d seen in the small towns around her growing up. Its style was unique, however, with its red, textured roof and arched doorways and windows. They walked a block or so before Jake led her down a long pier at the end of which there was a small speedboat bobbing in the swell. Before Faith could ask him what was going on he helped her in and they were heading off into the ocean. He helped her in, and she was glad she’d pulled her hair back as the boat got going. The balmy southern air was different here. It was humid but fresh and clean as it came off the ocean. She took in a deep breath to keep the memory of it. She wondered where on Earth this restaurant was.
They arrived at an island, and Faith had never seen anything so beautiful. A restaurant with a colossal porch stretched out in front of her—tiled floors, white pillars the size of redwood trees, paddle fans whirring above them. There were tables with white linen tablecloths, their edges dancing in the breeze, with wicker chairs pulled up to every table, giving them an unfussy feel. The only color besides the brown of the wicker was the electric blue of the ocean, the white of the shoreline, and the hundreds of palm trees scattered around them. Jake hopped out of the boat, and reached over to grab her hand. She took it, and he didn’t let go as they walked the short distance to a village of white buildings. The two of them snaked around the buildings until they were seaside and Faith stopped. She couldn’t walk. The view in front of her was breathtaking.
“You like?” he said, smiling down at her, his hand still in hers, and she could hardly pull her eyes from the sight to respond.
When she finally did make eye contact, the look on Jake’s face was one she’d never seen before. His eyes were intense, his lips slightly smiling, yet there was a seriousness that made her feel like this was as big a deal to him as it was to her. She let go of his hand and grabbed him by the waistband of his trousers, pulling him toward her. Then, he put his hands on her face and kissed her. This kiss was different than the others, slightly more urgent but still gentle. Was he letting his guard down?
It was as if they thought the same thing, and they both pulled away from each other. Jake reluctantly let her go and she turned toward the restaurant that was in front of them. This, she thought, is the kind of fancy restaurant I can live with. It was perfect.
“This is gorgeous,” she finally managed, and she turned to him, pushed herself up on her toes and kissed his cheek. She felt his hand at her back, as if he were holding onto her. She wished he’d never let go.
He smiled down at her. “I’m glad you like it.” Then, he eased his hand away from her when a waiter began approaching them.
The waiter promptly introduced himself and took them to their table. She didn’t want to know how much a place like this probably cost, let alone the plane, the taxi, and then the boat ride over. But it wasn’t the money she was impressed by. It was the fact that Jake had known that this was what she would like and had gone to the trouble of organizing it for her. Jake pulled out her chair.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said.
“I wanted to.” He quietly scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned on the white linen with his forearm. Even in this atmosphere, he was still relaxed. “I wanted you to see this beach.”
Jake had said himself that things like champagne and flowers didn’t occur to him. Yet this did? What was happening between the two of them? Something had changed in Jake.
“Do you come here often?” she asked carefully.
“When I want to get away. It’s my favorite place to relax.” He was leaned back slightly in his chair now, his arm still on the table, but his shoulders politely squared. “It gets too cold in North Carolina in the winters, and I board up my cottage during hurricane season. I’ve been lucky not to have too much damage each time.”
“And you come here?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you just live here? It’s so beautiful.”
The waiter brought glasses of water for both of them, the ice cubes clinking together as he set them down. Jake gave him a polite thank you as he left them alone.
“I don’t know. I suppose it’s because I like the Outer Banks. I can keep busy there more easily. There are people I know who’ve been there my whole life, and there’s so much to do. I can fill my days with cottage work and boat building.”
“But this is amazing,” she said, pressing him, her gaze landing on a sailboat in the distance, the sail looking stark against the turquoise water—a very different view from the ones she’d seen at the Outer Banks. She considered his answer, and thought how it spoke to what she loved about the Outer Banks. He didn’t say he loved the resort that he was building. He said he loved working on the cottages and boats.
“That’s not to say that I don’t love this view. I just don’t need it all the time.” He looked out at the water. “If I see it too much, I worry that it will lose its effect on me. Things are good when they’re still new.”
Had he meant something else by that comment? Was he worried that she wouldn’t affect him the same way once they were settled into a routine?
They ordered lunch, and Faith found that even though she had quite a few questions, conversation was always easy. He had a way about him that made both the times they were chatting and the quiet lulls between comfortable. She didn’t have to think about it; the conversation just flowed. When their food came—on fancy white plates with perfect zigzags of drizzle—they settled in and let the conversation slow. The weather was different here, the heat noticeable, the wind gentler up by the restaurant. Even the smell of the air was different. Faith liked it, but she understood what Jake had meant when he said he liked North Carolina too. She did feel after seeing this place that flashy could be fun sometimes, but like Jake, she just wanted to sit somewhere nice and read a book. She thought about how great it would be to do that with him.
After lunch, they walked along the pier that led out over the water. There was so much sea in front of her that it made her feel small. “Thank you,” she said, turning toward him. She looked up into his eyes, hoping for that look he’d given her earlier.
He offered a crooked grin. “You’re welcome,” he said. He grabbed her hand and held it in his. With a smile, he studied their fingers as they moved against each other’s, and she felt how perfectly they fit. The jitters were gone. She moved her hand in his, feeling the roughness of his palm under her fingertips and his fingers moved in response. Then he closed his hand around hers.
“Feel like walking around? We could go to Mallory Square and see the street performers or go shopping.”
“Whatever you think,” she said.
Jake took charge, g
rabbing a taxi to Mallory Square. It was located along a street with a wide sidewalk that stretched along the coast, palm trees and buildings on one side and ocean on the other. Several cruise ships had come in to dock, and she’d never seen ships as huge as these. The walkway was busy. Jake reached out and grabbed her hand again so they could stay together. It was different this time. His grasp was protective yet light, a perfect physical representation of the way he was in general. She held on to him, glad for all the people so that she’d have reason not to let go. They finally came to a stop at Mallory Square where a tightrope walker was balancing while juggling fire. She watched as the flames flickered against the water behind him.
“Worst case, he can jump in,” Jake teased, his mouth near her ear so she could hear him over the crowd. It sent a tickle down her arm. She laughed at his comment and looked up at him, but his eyes were on the juggler. She followed his gaze, still watching him in her peripheral vision. He seemed so relaxed—he hadn’t checked his phone once. He was completely in the moment with her, and he seemed to be enjoying himself.
After the performance, they caught another taxi, and when they pulled up to a house, she wondered where he’d brought her. In front of her was a gorgeous white southern building with a wrought-iron porch going around the second story. The only color against the white and black was the gold of the shutters on either side of the rounded windows and the green of the nearby palm trees. Neatly cut hedges worked their way around the house, and the grass was like a carpet of green.
He looked down at her, affection oozing from his face. “Know where we are?”
“Where?”
“Hemingway’s house.”
“This is where he lived?” She took in the house again with new eyes.
“Yep.” He took her hand again—it was becoming quite a regular thing. She could get used to it. “Wanna go inside?”
“Yes.” In that moment, she was so glad that she hadn’t been to Key West before because she’d been right: She enjoyed seeing it with Jake.
The rustic interior was very masculine with tiled floors and soft, monotone colors on walls that had the heads of mounted wild game and other relics that looked as though they could have been from Hemingway’s travels. They walked from room to room and she marveled at the simplicity of the book-filled shelves and modest wooden furniture. But when they arrived in one, particular room, it was as if she could almost feel Hemingway’s presence. Sitting in the middle of the room was a small, round table with one chair and an antique typewriter. It looked so solitary to her, but it made her think about the man who’d written those words. That man didn’t know when he’d written them that there would be a boy in North Carolina who would read them over and over. She was willing to bet that the boy who caught lightning bugs and read Hemingway was still there in the man standing beside her now.
Back outside, he asked, “Can you guess where we’re going next?”
“The Robert Frost cottage?”
“How did you know?” He looked down at her. “I couldn’t come to the home of my favorite author without visiting the home of yours.”
As they walked down the sidewalk, bicycles lining the walls of buildings along the edge of it, the humidity settled on her skin, making the breeze feel cooler. The sun was so bright, and she wondered if it was shining back in North Carolina at that moment. Was Isabella building sandcastles for her daddy with Casey watching on? Was Nan sitting on the porch while her mom packed a picnic? There was Faith, miles and miles away, walking around Key West. It was surreal. As she looked over at Jake, in this town of unfamiliar shops and restaurants and hotels, he looked so familiar to her now. It seemed so right to have him there by her side.
“I’m so glad we could spend today together,” she said.
“Me too.”
When they arrived at the Heritage House Museum, they toured the grounds, making their way to the garden where Robert Frost’s cottage stood. It was a modest structure, painted a pastel blue—almost turquoise like the sea, with a low roofline and small entryway. Palms and other exotic plants flanked the front door. It looked so small when compared to how she’d imagined it as a kid. The owners didn’t allow anyone inside the cottage, so she and Jake stood in the shade of the trees that surrounded it.
“It’s amazing to me that those larger-than-life words that I read as a kid could have been written in this tiny place.”
“It’s a simple, little cottage, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “I suppose he didn’t need a whole lot to be happy.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon visiting landmarks where their favorite authors had visited, window shopping, and enjoying the sights. They’d even made it to the southernmost point in the United States. There was a marker to designate the spot. It was an enormous, striped monument, and its shape reminded Faith of one of Nan’s sewing thimbles.
“Ninety miles to Cuba,” Jake read the letters scrolled across the top.
He smiled a big, cheesy smile, and she took his picture with her phone. As they stood there together, she thought about how they were making memories, living life just like Nan had said. She wrapped her arms around his waist and thanked him again for bringing her there. He kissed the top of her head.
When Jake mentioned that they needed to get back to the airport, Faith felt a little sad. She’d enjoyed having his company all to herself. She liked being with him. And hanging over her head was the fact that once this trip was over, the realities of life would settle in, and they’d have to figure out what, if anything, to do about each other. She wanted to see him again after this trip. She didn’t know how she’d do it, since she lived a state away, and she’d be starting school again in late August. She wanted to see him play with Isabella again, she wanted to hand him a mug of coffee in the mornings, she wanted to sit with him on the porch, she wanted to see his pictures in Nan’s photo albums.
“We have a few movies to choose from for the way back, if you’d like,” he said. “I’m always asked to choose two movies for the flight even though I never watch them. So, let’s do it,” he grinned at her, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes creasing upwards toward his temples in an adorable way. “We have Good Will Hunting or Office Space.”
“Definitely Good Will Hunting,” she said, taking a seat on a small sofa at the back of the plane. The television was mounted to the ceiling and could pivot on a hinge. Jake turned it toward her and got the movie ready. When he sat down beside her, their proximity was nice, and she was glad for the movie to give them a chance to just sit together—she was tired after the long day and she just wanted to be beside him. As they got settled, and he clicked on the movie, she leaned on his shoulder, her mind elsewhere. She wanted to stay in that moment forever and never have to face the real world, but all good things must come to an end.
“Faith,” she heard a whisper through the fog of sleep. She couldn’t remember being as comfortable and peaceful as she was right then. “Faith?” As she swam out of her sleep, she was aware of the warmth beneath her, the arm around her, and the breath at her forehead. Slowly, she opened her eyes and realized she’d fallen asleep during the movie. When she tipped her head to see where the voice was coming from, she was startled by the look on Jake’s face. It was an adoring look. She sat up, blinking to clear her vision.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see the movie.”
He smiled at her. “I know. You fell asleep in the first ten minutes.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked too peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Their faces were so close. She wanted to feel his arms around her, to feel his heart beat against her. He straightened up, pulling his arm from behind her, and said, “We’ll be landing in a minute or so.”
His words were the ones she’d been dreading hearing all day, marking the end of their date. She wanted this to be it. She didn’t care that she’d only just met him. She didn’t care that she was leaving the Outer Banks in mere days.
She wanted to know what it was like to wake up to him in the morning, hold him, and kiss his lips in the morning. No amount of rationalization could make her feel any differently. Jake was the one she wanted to spend her future learning about, and she didn’t care if she was in Florida or North Carolina or the South Pole. She didn’t care a thing about how he spent his money or where he lived. She just wanted to be with him. He was that guy in English class with the sweater, like Nan had said. He was the mystery that she wanted to solve.
TWENTY-TWO
Faith had spent the last two days with her family. They’d gone out to the beach until they couldn’t stand the heat anymore and then they’d lazed around the cottage. It had been great because they’d been so busy since they’d arrived that they hadn’t really had a chance to relax. Even better, it gave them all time to be together as a family. They turned in early last night after a round of board games, which made Nan happy.
She was glad to be able to spend more time with her grandmother. The cottage was new, but it was starting to feel familiar, the twinge of anxiety filling her every time she thought about leaving it. On the eve of the second full day at the cottage, she decided to spend it on the porch where she could enjoy the view she’d had for so many years. As she looked out at the sea, she could almost feel her old cottage at her back. Trying not to think too much about missing this place, she focused her attention on tomorrow.
Tomorrow was Nan’s birthday party. Her mom had found a bakery in town, and she’d ordered a grand cake. Faith smiled to herself as she remembered worrying about impressing Jake at Nan’s party. Now that she knew him better, she realized that she didn’t need to impress him. He’d never judge them based on the way they’d chosen to celebrate her grandmother’s birthday. Her worries seemed silly now. But her distress over Nan’s party had been replaced by a new uneasiness. She hadn’t seen Jake since their trip to Key West.
She’d fully expected him to drop by, but he hadn’t. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her on the porch after their date. He’d brought her home that evening, walked her up to the door, and they’d had a little chitchat until it was obvious she needed to let him go. She’d put her arms around him and hugged him as she thanked him. His absence had made things feel even more unclear for her. She worried, thinking again how maybe he had just been doing her a favor taking her to a beach she’d never seen. Rich guy to the rescue.