by Tessa Bailey
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sage huddled her body around the heart clock, leaning down to listen to the ticking. Beneath her toes, the sand was freezing, but she burrowed them through the hard-packed granules anyway. Her surroundings were familiar and unfamiliar all at once. She’d envisioned this moment in Coney Island so many times—the white-capped water rolling in, New Yorkers blowing into their hands and stomping their feet to keep warm—but Belmont had been a part of those imaginings. Big and steady, arms crossed as his siblings revolved around him.
The unfamiliar part was the Clarksons. All those traits that made them extraordinary were a shade duller. They sat in a straight line on the beach, Peggy, Aaron, and Rita clutching at the fronts of their Walmart-purchased robes, bathing suits beneath, waiting for the whistle to sound. Occasionally, one of them would offer the others a smile, or accept a kiss from their significant other, but it was forced. They were forced.
Since the road trip started, Sage had been so sure that this morning—New Year’s Day— would be magical, although she’d never expected to witness it with her own eyes. Miriam’s illness hadn’t given Sage much time to get to know her, but she would never forget the woman’s wise, if slightly whimsical, personality. Through stories, Sage knew Miriam had often employed a little mischief to teach her children lessons. So…this couldn’t be it. This moment couldn’t really just be about jumping into the ocean, could it?
Hundreds of Polar Bear Club members milled on the beach, ribbing one another and stretching. They took pictures and reminisced about years gone by to the handful of brave news reporters. Sage bent down and placed her ear on the clock, listening to the steady beat. Hoping the heartbeat of the extraordinary man who’d given her the gift was pumping with the same unquestionable sureness.
“I can’t picture Mom doing this,” Rita said, her long, black hair whipping against her cheeks in the wind. “Even if she was drinking.”
“Me either,” Peggy murmured, leaning into Rita’s side. “She was an indoor person, just like the rest of us.”
“Except Bel,” Aaron said. “The ocean is his jam. He shouldn’t be missing this.”
Listening to them speak about Belmont was painful for Sage, but she knew they needed to. God, the fact that the siblings were talking at all was a miracle. They’d started the road trip at odds and now they were huddled together on the beach like the survivors of a shipwreck. Maybe that was Miriam’s grand design. If so, it was a noble one, but Sage couldn’t help thinking they were missing something. Something besides Belmont.
“Since this was your mother’s idea,” Sage started. “Why don’t you read something from her journal?”
Elliott, who’d been standing guard behind Peggy, slid a hand into her curls. “That’s a good idea. Who has it?”
“Belmont,” Aaron answered. “He’s had control of it this whole time.”
“What do you mean?” Rita asked, turning her head.
“Don’t you see?” A smile made its way onto the ex-politician’s lips. “When Rita needed it, the damn thing appeared in her suitcase. It fell into my lap from the Suburban’s sun visor, marked on the perfect page, when I needed a kick in the ass. And Peggy…”
“Bel…” She shook her head. “I didn’t know why until now, but he kept reminding me it was in my purse, the whole time we were in Cincinnati.”
Aaron blew a breath toward the Atlantic. “There you go.”
Sage railed against the guilt, but it wouldn’t be ignored. Not completely. Belmont had to stay behind for himself and she respected him for that decision, but there was no way around his absence lying squarely on her shoulders. Subconsciously, she’d wanted him to come find her in Sibley, which was why she’d left behind the scrapbook. Some part of her had known she couldn’t live without Belmont Clarkson. Had she been selfish?
“I know what you’re thinking, Sage,” Peggy said, tugging her into the cluster of Clarksons. “And you knock it off right now. Or we’ll drag you into the frigid pit of despair with us.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Aaron sent her a calculating look. “If we expose her to hypothermia, Belmont would probably get some kind of Sage batsignal and show up. If for no other reason than to whoop our asses.”
Sage laughed, then let her eyes drift shut with a sigh. “No, I think he knows I’m made of sterner stuff now. It would drive him crazy, but he’d let me go in.”
“Is that a yes to taking the plunge?” Rita asked.
“Hell no,” Sage replied.
The laughter felt good, but once again it faded into silence. And with the loud conversations and camera clicks going off around them, they stared out at the water, each lost in their own thoughts. Sage’s were of Belmont, yes. He would forever be there, casting a long shadow and marking everything with his presence. But there was more. She had a sense of…accomplishment. Perhaps in the beginning of the trip, she’d taken some slides backward, along with Belmont. They’d depended on each other in a way that she couldn’t live with. So she’d made it right. They’d made it right. And in the process, she’d left Sibley behind. But when she thought back to her hometown now, it wouldn’t be with shame or regret.
It would be with pride.
Sage didn’t know what caused her to look down the beach, through the throngs of Polar Bear Club members and people who’d come as guest plungers. Intuition climbed the back of her neck and whispered in her ear until Sage set down the heart clock and rose to her feet, obeying a call that wouldn’t be denied. Weaving around people and squinting into the morning fog, she could only hold up a finger when Peggy called her name curiously. But Sage kept going, going, until she was clear of the crowd.
And then there he was.
Belmont walked toward her, not a single hitch in his stride. He was smiling. Smiling in a way she’d never once seen him do before. Glorious and substantial and…new, somehow. His black coat blew out behind him in the cold wind, but he seemed untouched by the weather. He was the weather…he was everything. And his arms were wide open for her.
Sage broke into a run, her feet sinking into the sand with each step. Tears that felt as if they’d been saved up for weeks chose that moment to stream down her cheeks. The tide rolled in and she ran right through the thin glassy layer of it, water splashing up onto her shins. It seemed to take forever to reach him, her missing other half. But then she was finally there, arms of steel banding around her, lifting her straight off the sand. Into warmth that couldn’t be described. It was home. It was life. It was beauty and magic and power and love.
“How have I been breathing without you, Sage?” Belmont’s voice vibrating against her head. “How did I manage it?”
Even though she wanted to burrow into his neck and never come out, Sage pulled back and searched blue eyes that put the nearby ocean to shame. “You managed it because you’re a fearless man.” Yes. Yes. She could see that was the truth. Impossibly, he seemed to stand even taller than before. His gaze was clear and full of affection, with none of the ghosts. Not a single one. He was there with her, completely and irrevocably. And there he would stay.
Belmont cradled the back of her head and brought their faces close. “A fearless man for a fearless woman, Sage. All of me is standing on this beach in front of you. All of me will stand beside you for the rest of my life.”
“I want nothing more than that,” she whispered. “I want it with my whole heart.”
“You have it.” He laid a soft kiss onto her lips. “Same way you’ve had my heart. Same way you’ve made it beat. Made it strong.”
Sage lost her breath, so when Belmont kissed her, she needed to pull away for air almost immediately. Her inhale sounded more like a sob, but Belmont kept planting kisses, smiling ones, shh-ing ones, humming ones, until she finally filled her lungs enough to give him a proper kiss. Oh, and he took advantage. With one hand lost in Sage’s hair and the other bracing her lower back, Belmont gave her the kiss of a lifetime, drawing on her, slanting his mouth over hers one
way, then the other, so fluid and hungry, she would have swooned…if her feet were on the ground. But they were dangling in the air, symbolic of how she felt, and she never wanted to come down. With Belmont, she would never have to.
* * *
Belmont wanted to go on kissing Sage until the sun set.
She’d missed him. He could taste it in the way she tugged him back for more every time he attempted to give her breath. Lord, he was grateful for Sage missing him. And while he would give thanks for it every day, he would never give her cause to grieve his absence again. He’d be a landmark for her, same way she’d become one for him. A constant. A tide.
Having his mouth move with Sage’s in tandem had been a mind-blowing experience every single time. But confidence flowed in his veins now, lighting him up like a sky during an electrical storm. Yes, he was huge in size, but he’d never completely felt unshakable on the inside. That had changed. He kissed Sage now—her delicious, giving mouth—and felt just a little more deserving this time around. As long as he remembered he would never stop needing to earn Sage’s love, that was acceptable.
This time, Sage pulled away from the kiss and Belmont dragged her back with a groan, because now his whole body was involved. At one time, had he really been capable of holding her body against his own and not making love to her? She was angled back over his arm now, her thighs writhing on his…and she was pulling away again.
“Belmont,” Sage breathed, putting a hand to her throat. “I…you…”
He gathered her hair in a fist. It was flying around and blocking his view of her face. “I have to go jump in the Atlantic. I know.” He leaned down and licked into her mouth. Just once. Enough to keep that blush on her cheeks. “Maybe some cold water isn’t a bad idea when I’m feeling like this.”
“Like what?”
His pulse flowed hot. “Like we haven’t even begun to make up for lost time. And I need to get started on that. Badly, Sage.” She exhaled and he sucked it in. “So badly.”
Her hazel eyes were wide on his. “No more waiting to touch now. Everything about us is…right.” She laughed and shook her head, a tear sliding down her cheek. “Isn’t it?”
Belmont pressed his mouth to her forehead. “More than right, sweetest girl. It’s us.”
They stood like that, ocean air trying to tunnel through them, before giving up and going around, until Sage stepped back. “There are three other people that need you, too.” They took each other’s hands and turned toward the crowd, walking back down the beach to where the trio of Clarksons waited. The sight of them put a lump in his throat. Would they ever know they’d been there with him in the mine?
Yes. He wouldn’t keep it to himself. Someday soon, he would tell them.
Peggy broke free of the pack first, as expected, throwing herself into his arms in a tangle of limbs and curls. “Quite an entrance, big brother.”
“Yeah, real dramatic, Bel.” Aaron wasn’t looking at him when he spoke, and Belmont understood. They were still working on being brothers. The real kind. The kind that could look at each other and acknowledge that they had a bond, whether they denied it or not. But maybe they were further along than Belmont realized, because Aaron turned to look at him, his eyes glassy. “I’m really fucking glad you made it, man.”
“Me too,” Rita said, swiping at her nose and burrowing into his chest, next to Peggy and Sage, who he’d tugged back into his side. “But a text wouldn’t go unappreciated next time.”
Belmont pulled his sisters close with one arm and extended the other one to Aaron, who rolled his eyes but came nonetheless. Behind him, Elliott, Grace, and Jasper each laid a hand on his back, then moved away without saying anything.
And there they stood on the shores of the Atlantic, as Miriam had wanted. But they weren’t the same people who had left San Diego four weeks earlier. They were five forces of nature…and one unstoppable unit that had found their way back to one another. They’d barreled through obstacles and overcome their limitations and something told Belmont that life wasn’t going to go back to normal.
This—the Clarksons together—was going to be the new normal.
Aaron broke the group hug first, finding Grace close by and throwing an arm around her shoulders. “You better get changed, Bel. I think they’re going to blow the whistle soon.”
He nodded, following the pack to where they’d been sitting before. Since he’d driven like a bat out of hell to reach New York in time, he hadn’t stopped to buy a bathing suit. So with a shrug, he took off his coat, which had Miriam’s journal stowed in the inner pocket. He handed it to Sage with a wink…and then stripped down to his boxers.
Lord, it was worth it just to see the blush climb her neck.
“There’s something different about you, Bel.” Peggy giggled, but there was still moisture in her eyes. “It’s good. It’s really good.”
Peggy and Rita let their robes drop, their teeth beginning to chatter immediately. Aaron followed suit with a heartfelt curse.
The whistle blew and everyone around them ran. But the siblings didn’t move.
Belmont got the odd sense they were waiting for a signal from him. An intuition he’d had before, but never believed. Until now.
“For Mom,” he said, taking Rita’s hand on one side, Peggy’s on the other. “For us.”
Aaron latched on to Rita’s free hand. And while the people they loved watched them from the shore, the Clarksons walked down into the unusually placid Atlantic. They didn’t flinch at the cold, even as the freezing temperature stole the oxygen from their bodies, sent goose bumps prickling up their skin. When they were waist deep, Belmont nodded and they all dropped under at the same time, their grips tightening inside the greenish-blue water.
Belmont imagined they each thought of something different while they were under. As always, his mind strayed to Sage, but his mother needed to own the moment. She was the one who had brought them together and put them in the water together. Maybe he was missing Sage’s presence, but a whisper in the back of his mind was growing stronger, telling him to go back to shore. It was strange, this sense of…incompleteness, when he and his siblings had come so far. But there it was. It wouldn’t go away.
Peggy, Rita, and Aaron must have felt it, too, because all four of them were quiet as they walked back to shore, still hand in hand. They were wrapped in towels by Sage, Jasper, Elliott, and Grace, pulled close. All of them moved together for body warmth, but something caught Belmont’s eye over the top of the group.
His name?
His name.
It was written in huge gold letters and emblazoned across the back of a man’s robe. BELMONT. And underneath his name, the word PRESIDENT was embroidered in script. The shoulders occupying the robe were shaking with obvious mirth. Obvious even though the man was facing the opposite direction. He was speaking to a woman who’d also taken the plunge, but something caused that woman to look over at Belmont. When she did, her mouth dropped open and she pointed. Right at him.
That’s when the man wearing his name turned around.
And it was like looking right into a mirror. One that showed him a quarter century into the future.
This man was his father.
Even as Belmont’s throat closed up and he reached blindly for Sage, a thought floated past him on a breath of wind. Miriam had a plan, after all.
“Oh my God,” Sage breathed, following his line of sight. “Oh, Belmont.”
Just as they’d done in the mine, his sisters’ and brother’s hands found his back and supported him. Bolstered him. Made him who he was.
“I wonder why Miriam didn’t just tell you where to find him,” Aaron said, his voice unnatural. “Or who he was.”
Belmont didn’t have to think about the answer. “Because she knew I would need you guys with me when the time came. Before this trip…I would have come alone.”
Rita squeezed his shoulder. “Well, we’re with you now.”
Taking his eyes off the man who continu
ed to stare at him across the expanse of beach, Belmont turned to the group. “I know you are. You always were.”
But a moment later Belmont crossed the sand alone, fully prepared to shake the hand of the man who’d given him life and ask for answers. Because that was the thing about gaining strength from the ones who loved you. You held on to it wherever you went.
* * *
Miriam Clarkson, January 1
If you’re reading this, stop. Unless something bad has happened, in which case, screw it. I’m obviously not there anymore to stop you.
I hope I didn’t make a big deal out of dying. Hope there were no last-minute confessions or wistful wishes that I’d seen more sunrises. If I did succumb to those clichés and killed everyone’s vibe, I’m sorry. If I didn’t? Well, bully for me. But I’m succumbing now, in this book, because I’ve had too much bourbon.
Oh, come on. At least pretend to be scandalized.
So, here goes. I love my kids. I love that I didn’t have to say it every day for them to know it. To be comfortable in it. But looking back—hindsight is more like 40/40 when you’re about to croak—I know I only fixed minuscule problems and ignored the mammoth ones. I never cooked family dinners, which is pretty damn ironic when you think about it. I am—or was—a culinary genius, after all.
People make dying wishes and their loved ones carry them out. That’s how it works, right? Well, I don’t wish to put that weight on my kids. But I have no such qualms with a cheap notebook I bought at Rite Aid. So here it is. My. Dying. Wish.
Please be patient and try to remember that I often have—or had, rather—a plan.
When I was eighteen, I spent a year in New York City. On New Year’s Day in 1984, I jumped into the icy waters of the Atlantic with the Coney Island Polar Bear Club. I was a guest of a guest of a guest, as eighteen-year-olds trying to make their way in New York often are.
Now here’s where shit gets corny—apologies to my daughter, Rita, who of my four children, will likely find and read this first. See? I paid attention sometimes.