by Amber Stokes
The waitress nodded and left, taking their menus with her.
Leaving Trisha and Paul with nothing but straws and last-ditch conversation to occupy them.
“You surprised me,” he began. “I never would have expected to see you on a train to Oregon—let alone on a spontaneous, non-school-related trip.”
“I have a bit of adventurer in me,” she countered. It had to be true; otherwise, she wouldn’t desperately want it to be true.
“I know you do.” He opened a straw and stuck the wrapper to his wet glass. “You just don’t let her out to play very often.”
Before she could protest, he continued, “I love seeing that playful side. The one that comes out when you’re with your siblings. Or when we’re in the woods and you’re the first to step off the trail.”
The forest had always made her bold. And Derrick and Chloe… Her brother and sister were like ocean waves. Relentless as they pulled her out of her shell over and over again. Oh, how I’ve missed them. Holidays and vacations never gave her enough time with her family, in her beautiful home county.
She felt the homesickness like an ache in her throat—knowing that she’d have to return to school instead of the place she really belonged.
Maybe that was the real reason she had to get away from campus. But then, why had she felt the need to bypass home altogether?
Trisha glanced up to see Paul’s brows furrowed. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “What’s wrong? Really?”
She pulled out her own straw and started tearing the wrapper to bits. Each piece of paper the same size. Little rectangles that stacked perfectly.
Paul finally uncrossed his arms. “If I were to guess,” he began, “I’d say you’re unhappy.”
A shadow of a smile appeared, like he was making some sort of joke, but vanished when she didn’t return the gesture.
“Come on, Babe.”
Her heart lifted traitorously as the nickname came out even more genuine than before. “This isn’t something you can fix by chopping down a few trees with your ax, Paul Bunyan.”
He grew still, an air of caution shadowing his forehead beneath his fluffy hair.
She took in a deep breath. “I don’t think I’m in the right major.”
His laugh seemed slightly shaky. “Is that all?”
She rubbed the ends of her ponytail between her fingers. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. This is my life we’re talking about—and I’m ruining it whichever way you want to look at it.” She winced at the whininess that permeated her voice, then tucked her lower lip between her teeth.
“You’re not ruining your life, Trisha. It’s just college.”
Her head came up at that, and she glared at his placid expression. “Easy for you to say, seeing as how you never went.”
She didn’t know why she expected him to get angry at that. He hadn’t before, and he didn’t now.
“Actually, I did. I completed community college here in Eugene a little over a year ago, and it helped me get my job as a dental hygienist.”
Trisha didn’t know what to say. Paul had gone to school? And he was working in a dentist’s office? She wasn’t sure if she felt jealous or simply…empty. How could he have changed so much in three years? How could she?
“College is important,” Paul continued, “but still, it’s not everything.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It’s true that you’ll have more choices in life with a college degree, and I’m not trying to talk you out of getting one. I’m just worried about you. I’ve always been concerned—”
“So now the truth comes out.” She let the insult fuel her glare and give her mixed-up emotions an outlet.
He unclasped his hands and brought them to his temples. “Please let me finish. I was always concerned that you would feel yourself trapped in one path and not have the guts to change your mind.” His last words came out harsher, raspy.
She couldn’t meet his gaze, so she stared at her pile of ripped straw wrappers.
His voice dropped. “You’re only human, Babe. We don’t always get it right the first time.”
Before Trisha could reply, her salad arrived. She distracted herself from Paul’s words by pouring the dressing and all her attention into lunch.
***
The trees made Trisha homesick. As she and Paul wound their way toward the coast, forests encroached upon the road, leaves waving a warm greeting to her hungry gaze. She loved them all—the stately evergreens and the deciduous that weren’t afraid to show a bit of spunk and color. Trisha also recalled the silver waterfalls they had seen from the observation car of the train and wondered how many more treasures must be tucked away along Highway 126.
“Great views, huh?” Paul murmured into the silence. The car vents huffed a breath of hot air in agreement, and Trisha wanted to smile. If only echoes of their lunch conversation weren’t weighing her down, like tree branches heavy with ice. Long distance… Didn’t think it would work… Afraid you wouldn’t have the guts…
And how could she blame him?
Miles passed, fields and forests competing for attention beyond the window. All Trisha could see were open-ended questions with no answers.
What would it be like if she were the one getting married? If Derrick and Samantha were attending her wedding? When she and Paul had made it to month three, the longest she had ever dated a boy—and she’d only dated two—she had thought a ring and a dress and marriage were in her future. That would have solved all her problems.
School? No pressure. She wouldn’t need to be the sole provider, so she could study whatever she wanted—if she wanted to attend. Money wouldn’t be as big of an issue, surely. And she’d have someone by her side to share the burdens of stress and uncertainty.
She wouldn’t be alone.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Paul reach for the water bottle in the cup holder and bring it to his mouth. His throat worked as he swallowed, and then he licked his lips as he pulled the bottle away. All those little motions and mannerisms were once so familiar to her, and for a moment she could imagine they still were.
“Thirsty?” Paul asked. His sunglasses blocked her view of his eyes, but his grin suggested a twinkle in them. He had caught her watching him.
She blushed and shook her head, swinging her gaze back to the window.
After a few minutes, Paul finally put on some music. A rock CD Trisha recalled from their many car rides as boyfriend and girlfriend. She found herself singing along a bit, under her breath. But Paul didn’t even try to hide his own singing as he confidently belted out the words while steering the car around curves and through a tunnel.
Eventually, they passed a billboard advertising Mo’s, along with a casino tucked into the hills, and the town of Florence enveloped them. The CD had returned to its original track, and Trisha welcomed their arrival with relief.
Finally. The drive had taken ages—so different from how things used to feel, spending time with the man she loved.
Trisha’s phone vibrated, and she checked to see who had texted her.
[Brielle]: We’re grabbing a late lunch in Yachats. Is it okay if we meet you at the lighthouse in an hour?
Trisha stifled a groan. “Paul…”
“Yeah?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
“It sounds like we have a bit of time to kill.” She couldn’t hide her frustration, even though she didn’t blame Samantha or her brother. She was the one intruding on their time together. But she hated imposing on Paul more than she already had—and being forced to hang out with him when all she wanted was to escape and finally breathe normally again.
“I’m sorry,” Trisha added, wishing she had anything else to say.
Paul shook his head and merged the car into the left lane. “It’s no problem. I know where we can hang out for a while.”
He expertly guided them through the main intersection, down Highway 101, and into Old Town. He found a spot in a big public parking lot and
turned off the ignition, filling the car with expectant silence.
Trisha gazed out the window at the pier and the quaint shops and restaurants lining the streets. The town lay quietly, absorbing the rays of sun peeking through the high clouds. A few men and women meandered along the sidewalk, making the most of a decent-weather coastal Friday afternoon in November. Such days were rare indeed.
“Come on,” Paul invited her, opening his car door and letting in the brisk fall wind and the smell of seafood being served somewhere.
As Trisha opened her own door and detected that hint of tangy ocean in the air, she couldn’t hold back the bittersweet smile. Home.
She followed Paul toward the pier, and they admired the fishing boats together—strolling side by side, hands in pockets, heads ducked slightly against the breeze. Paul didn’t say much, and Trisha was fine with that. She buried her chin in her scarf and simply let the bobbing motion of the boats soothe her restless soul.
After exploring the docks, they walked the length of the street, passing Mo’s and several little shops until they came to a small gallery-style store. Paul must have sensed the slowing of her steps, because he glanced over at her and instantly seemed to recognize her intent.
He swept his hand toward the open door. “Wanna go in?”
She nodded and offered him a grateful smile.
Once across the threshold, she returned the “hello” of the proprietor and turned her attention to the gorgeous photographs near the entrance. She admired the views of sunlight through fog and huge trees sheltering blooming pink rhododendrons. In her mind, she pictured the beautiful places of her childhood: Moonstone Beach, the Avenue of the Giants, the vivid purple lupines covering Bald Hills. Her heart was the camera; her imagination the canvas. Could she ever love a place as much as she loved and admired her home on the Northern California coast?
Homesickness spilled through her like daylight reaching for the shadows of the forest floor. She sensed Paul studying her more than the photographs. But she didn’t want to answer any questions—couldn’t, even if she did want to. So she turned toward the counter, gave a slight smile and nod, and then returned to the street.
Paul never said a word as he tagged alongside her down the sidewalk. They passed a toy store, a gazebo tucked between shops, and the parking lot for a seafood restaurant on the water. They arrived at a coffee shop, the bridge of Highway 101 looming above in a postcard-perfect view.
Paul glanced at her, a bit of desperation reflecting in his warm eyes.
Trisha couldn’t help but chuckle as she led the way inside.
A narrow aisle divided the display of gooey pastries from the shelves of assorted merchandise for sale. They waited in line and then ordered two coffees—black—from the friendly barista.
It had been a challenge between them, back when they were dating. Paul had tried to wean Trisha off her sugars and creams and flavored syrups, daring her to drink coffee the way it was meant to be—nothing but bitter, invigorating brew. He had whittled her down to regular coffee with two splashes of cream.
But today, Trisha felt the irrepressible desire to prove something to this man who had reappeared in her life. So she ordered for both of them and only tilted her chin at the surprised expression on Paul’s face.
He grinned as they headed to the far end of the counter to retrieve their drinks. After adorning the cups with lids and sleeves, they walked back out to the street, crossed to the other side, and strolled past a different row of shops and eateries.
Every minute or so Paul cast his eyes to Trisha’s cup, which she clutched in her hands. She pretended not to notice, but as they inched closer and closer to the parking lot with Paul’s car, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer.
She raised the cup to her lips and sipped.
Paul was watching her. She had to swallow. Don’t react. But as the coffee slid down her throat, she couldn’t hide a grimace.
Paul whooped, while Trisha blushed bright red and smacked his shoulder. “Would you stop?”
But when he performed a little victory shuffle and almost dropped his own drink, Trisha couldn’t help it. She giggled and shook her head. “All right, all right. You win. Happy, mister?”
As a brisk ocean breeze came and ruffled his hair, he smiled wide. “Happiest I’ve been in years.”
Chapter 6
Trisha had caught a glance of Heceta Head Lighthouse in the distance on their way up Highway 101. But as she now stood with Paul in the sea-level parking lot, the lighthouse remained hidden among the trees. They were supposed to meet Samantha and Derrick at the bed-and-breakfast that sat on the hillside along the trail up to the lighthouse.
Taking in a deep breath of the incoming tide flavoring the air, Trisha led the way past the afternoon beachgoers and the restrooms to the path winding uphill through coastal forest. Paul followed, hands in coat pockets, seeming lost in thought as he glanced around at the undergrowth. The shade of the trees made Trisha shiver, and she burrowed deeper into her jacket.
After a few minutes of contemplative silence, they emerged into a clearing, where the B and B stood serenely beyond fence and lawn. Trisha admired the long front porch and numerous windows reflecting the gathering clouds above them.
Then Samantha appeared, stepping out onto the porch and waving excitedly. Derrick followed behind, and Trisha felt her eyes burn with a sharp mix of emotions. She lifted her own hand in greeting and ran around the outside of the fence, following the dirt path to the gate. Samantha and Derrick reached it first, swinging the gate wide for Trisha to pass through and fall into their arms.
Home. The word came to mind again as Trisha alternately hugged her brother and his girlfriend close. “It’s so good to see you,” she told them both, embarrassed that tears leaked from her eyes. She hurriedly brushed them away, but not before Derrick saw and gave her a look of brotherly concern.
His gaze became questioning as he looked beyond her. Trisha turned to see Paul hesitating just beyond the gate.
“You must be Paul,” Samantha said, stepping toward him to open the gate again and offer a smile.
“That’s me.” Paul’s smile was small but genuine as he joined the group and shook hands with Samantha and Derrick.
Samantha continued, “It was so kind of you to bring Trisha out here. And it’s great to meet you.” Her warmth encompassed the little group and seemed to melt a bit of Paul’s unease and Derrick’s concern. She shuffled closer to Derrick, nudging him in the shoulder. Trisha couldn’t help but grin as she sniffed back the remnant of tears.
Derrick placed his hand on Samantha’s lower back and looked to Paul. “Trisha will be staying in Samantha’s room, and you’re welcome to stay in mine. I mean, it would be a bummer for you to come out here and have to head back right away.”
Paul stuffed his hands in his pockets, an internal debate evident in the silence. Trisha could imagine him weighing the awkwardness against the convenience and his pride against the experience of staying at the B and B. Paul had met Derrick before, of course. They had been on the same team for game nights at home, and Derrick had even initiated a brother-to-man talk with him once upon a time. But it had been several years since…all that…and surely, hanging out with an ex-girlfriend’s brother wouldn’t be a huge incentive for staying.
Before Trisha could decide whether to help him find an excuse or encourage him to stay, he surprised her with a nod. “If it’s not too much trouble. I can help cover the cost.”
Derrick waved his free hand as if erasing the thought where it hovered in the air. “No worries. We had already booked two rooms, whether you guys came or not.”
Samantha exclaimed, “You’re going to love it! Wait till you see the rooms—all the lovely furniture and décor. It’s so cozy.”
With that, she led the way down the path, up the porch steps, and into the building.
As Trisha glanced around, peeking into what appeared to be a sitting area with old photographs lining the walls and glancing
up a narrow set of carpeted stairs, she felt her shoulders relax. Somehow, this place swept her back in time and far away from her doubts about her purpose in life and her career goals—or lack thereof. A smile crept onto her face as Samantha gave a quick tour of the little kitchen; the dining room with a long table, where they would eat a seven-course breakfast—seven courses!—and an additional sitting area with a fireplace, a huge mirror, and windows looking out on the hillside and the churning ocean beyond.
“The guys have their room on this side.” Samantha gestured to another set of narrow steps. “But let me show you the room we’ll share. It’s called ‘the lightkeeper’s room,’ and it has a view of the lighthouse. You’ll love it!”
Trisha had no doubt. Her smile grew at Samantha’s enthusiasm, and she turned to follow her friend once more across the building—but not before glancing back at Paul. He talked comfortably with Derrick, their conversation floating down the stairwell like imperceptible dust motes in shadow. Then he disappeared around the corner above.
***
The lightkeeper’s room was beautiful. Trisha enjoyed Samantha’s continued tour, admiring the dresser, lamps, and nightstands and taking in the view through the lone window. A few people could be seen exiting a little building farther up the trail, which Samantha pointed out as the gift shop. Others mingled by a picnic table, taking pictures of the lighthouse through the trees and gesturing out toward the ocean. Trisha couldn’t see their faces, but she imagined they were admiring the lowering sunlight across the waves and making new acquaintances.
But what really drew her gaze was the trail winding around a shadowed corner, leading to the lighthouse. Its beam could barely be seen sparkling through the glass lens in the distance.
Samantha showed her the quaint bathroom across the hall, where a pretty white tub sat low by a curtained window. It looked so inviting, and the entire effect of the upstairs—from what she’d seen—made her lighter and sent modern cares as far from her as if she were living in the B and B’s past.
Samantha led Trisha back down the stairs, and they met up with the guys for a walk down to the beach. Trisha’s eagerness to see the lighthouse grew. That shadowed trail hung in her mind while they waded in the waves and eventually returned to the B and B to fix a simple dinner with groceries Derrick and Samantha had bought earlier.