by Rico, Lauren
Jeremy sidles up to the counter and a man emerges, wiping floury hands on his apron.
“Good morning!” he says cheerily. Then he seems to recognize Jeremy.
“Hey, I know you!” he says, pointing a finger at him. “Back again for the croissants, eh?”
Jeremy shrugs sheepishly.
“What can I say? I’m about to prove to this young lady that they’re worth the two and a half hours on the train,” he says as he puts his arm around me possessively.
I love it.
Now Baker Man is beaming at me.
“Ah, well, you’re in luck, miss. I just happen to have a batch coming out of the oven right now! Why don’t you kids get yourselves some coffee and I’ll pull the tray.”
“Can you tell I love this place?” Jeremy says as he fixes two cups of coffee and hands one to me.
“Just a little,” I say with a giggle, watching him bounce excitedly from one foot to the next. Damn he’s adorable like this; like a little kid in a candy store.
“It’s just so nice to see you outside of the city. You seem so much more at ease here.”
“I am. And I want you to be too.”
“How many?” the baker asks as he sets a huge tray of croissants on the counter.
“We’ll take two now and we’ll probably stop by later to get a couple for the train home,” Jeremy says.
The gentleman puts the two pastries into a white bag and hands them to Jeremy. When he takes out his wallet to pay, the older man waves his money away.
“These are on the house. My treat for the lady.”
“Thank you!” I exclaim with delighted surprise.
He waves as we leave his shop.
“Let’s sit over there,” Jeremy says, using his chin to point out a wood bench, faded by sunlight and time.
When we’re seated, I take a long sip of the hot coffee. Apparently they’re not lying about it being the best in town. It really hits the spot, especially on a chilly day like today.
“Here,” Jeremy says, handing me a pastry wrapped in a napkin. “This needs to be eaten while it’s still warm.”
I hold it up to exam it.
“What is it exactly again?” I ask.
“It’s a jelly croissant. A butter croissant fried like a donut, filled with strawberry jelly and sugared. You won’t believe how good these things are.”
I nibble a corner off, and then take a larger bite.
“Oh. That is good…” I manage to say with a full mouth.
“Now, sip the coffee. They’re amazing with the coffee.”
I do as instructed, and know exactly why he wanted to come to this place.
We chew and sip quietly for a bit, savoring the treat.
Finally, Jeremy speaks.
“Did you mean what you said to Gordon?”
“What?” I squint at him trying to remember.
“That I’m the best horn player you’ve ever heard? That you think I could win the Kreisler?”
I nod adamantly.
“Absolutely. And not just because we’re… you know…”
“Sleeping together?”
“Exactly,” I say, taking another bite. “I’ve always thought that, Jeremy.”
He seems to consider this for a moment before popping the last of his croissant in his mouth. Then he leans toward me over his coffee.
“You are just all sweetness and sunshine, aren’t you?”
“Well, not all…” I say suggestively.
Good God, where did that come from?
Now he’s smiling from ear to ear.
“What?” I ask, suddenly defensive. “What? Did that sound ridiculous coming from me?”
He shakes his headed slowly.
“Not the least little bit.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing. You’re just amazing, and I can’t believe it took me so long to realize that.”
I can feel that old blush starting to rise again and I look down at the coffee cup in my hands.
“Thank you,” I murmur, without looking up.
He nudges my shoulder with his to break the awkward moment.
“Eat that thing before it gets cold, will you? They’re not nearly as good when they’re cold.”
23
“I don’t think I can do this,” I say, hugging the side of the steep circular stairway. I was fine on the way up to the top of the lighthouse, but coming down is another story.
“There’s no railing,” I whine when he laughs at me, those hazel eyes twinkling.
“That wasn’t a problem going up!”
“I know… but down is different. I can see the fall from here.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes and puts an arm around my waist.
“I’m not going to let you fall,” he says, sandwiching me between him and the wall so I can feel a little more secure. We move like that, slowly downward, until my feet feel the lighthouse’s floor.
“You okay?” he asks, when I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, well, apparently I have a fear of heights that I didn't know about.”
“Not to worry, it’s all ground level from here on out.”
“Thank goodness!”
We’ve hitched a ride to the very tip of Long Island’s south fork where, standing tall and proud is the Montauk Lighthouse. I’ve learned, from the small museum attached to it, that it was the very first lighthouse in New York State and is the fourth oldest functioning lighthouse in the country.
Outside, we take a walk down and around the back of the lighthouse, our feet crunching on a sandy path. After several hundred feet there is a break in the bluff and an opening to one of the most spectacular views I’ve ever seen.
The locals call Montauk ‘The End.’ Now I see why. The beach, littered with quartz, granite, and other rocks gives way to the inky blue sea. The long, narrow waves roll in, crest, and crash with a thunderous sound. Above, the sky is a perfect shade of blue. Sky blue. The gauzy clouds are motionless, seeming to have been painted there with a brush.
As chilly as it is today, the air is even cooler here and it rips right through my jacket. I can feel myself starting to shiver a little. When he notices, Jeremy takes his own jacket off and lays it over my shoulders. There is nothing but water for as far as the eye can see, and I feel as if we are the last two people standing on the edge of the world.
I turn to face Jeremy and impulsively throw my arms around him, almost knocking him to the sandy ground.
“Whoa!” he says with a laugh. “What’s that about?”
“Thank you,” my muffled voice says from against his chest.
“For what?”
Still clinging to him tightly, I look up at his handsome face.
“This is just what I needed, Jeremy. The change of scenery, the beach... you. Thank you.”
He leans down and kisses me softly. I want this moment by the cold, briny water to last forever. But it can’t. Not if we’re going to catch the last train home this afternoon.
A cab deposits us back in the center of town.
“We have a little time,” Jeremy says, looking at his watch. “Did you want to look in some shops?”
I glance around us. My earlier impressions were accurate. The town is nearly deserted and most of the storefronts have ‘Closed for the Season’ signs hanging in the windows.
“I don’t think there are any shops to look in,” I say skeptically.
“How about that one?”
Jeremy is pointing to a window with a large awning and it does appear to be open.
He takes my hand and we walk over, looking in the window. There are beautiful holiday decorations hung stylishly. Several gift-giving ideas are on display from hand-knit scarves, to fine leather bags and jewelry. One piece in particular catches my eye, an emerald pendant on a delicate gold chain. Jeremy notices my gaze.
“Let’s go in and have a look,” he says, pulling me toward the door.
I follow him inside and am immediately struck by the swe
et smell of apples and cinnamon. The shop is warm, and cozy, and I can hear the soft strains of Christmas music on Celtic harp playing somewhere. He reaches into the window display and pulls out the long blue velvet box where the necklace is nestled.
“Here, let’s see how it looks on you,” he says, holding it up and latching it behind my neck.
He stands back to admire his handiwork, and I gather he likes what he sees.
“Oh, I love that piece!” I hear someone behind me say.
I’m fingering the emerald as I turn back around, toward the friendly, welcoming voice behind me. It has come from a middle-aged woman with auburn hair and eyes the same color as the stone I’ve been admiring. My hand drops from the pendant, and I feel the blood draining from my face. I sway unsteadily, and Jeremy grabs my elbow.
“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning close to my ear.
But I can’t speak. I’m frozen, fixated on this woman’s kind, concerned face in front of me.
“Hey, you’re shaking!” Jeremy says with sudden alarm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Am I shaking? I hadn’t noticed.
“Sweetie, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” the woman says to me, her face furrowed with worry. “Here, come over here by the counter and sit down.”
When she takes my clammy hand in her soft, warm one, the room starts to spin around me. Oh, God. I’m going to pass out right here, in the middle of this cozy little shop, in the middle of this cozy little town.
“Mom, where should I….”
The girl’s voice startles me back to my senses, and the vertigo subsides. She can’t be any more than fourteen or fifteen, a brunette version of her mother’s fine features.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were helping someone,” the girl apologizes.
“Corinne, honey, would you please get this young lady some water?” her mother asks, as she guides me the final few steps to a folding chair.
“Sure,” she replies, dropping the box she’s carrying onto the counter with a dull thud, and heading into the back again.
Jeremy is squatting down in front of me. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear him over the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I close my eyes until I sense someone close to me. When I open them, the teenager is there again, holding a bottle of water out for me. I accept it with trembling hands.
“Jeremy, would you please take the necklace off?” I look at him and whisper.
“Of course,” he murmurs, reaching around my neck to unclasp it. His face is only inches from mine. “What is it?” he asks again, very softly, so only I can hear him. “Are you sick? Should I call an ambulance?” he asks me quietly.
I shake my head, and he stands up to put the emerald on the counter. When he moves, I realize that the girl is staring at me. What is she looking at? The answer comes in an instant.
“You have eyes just like my mom’s,” she says with some interest, like I’m a science experiment or something. “Hey, mom, look! This lady has the same eyes as you. That really, really green color. Daddy told me that only two percent of the population has green eyes, and that no one else has eyes like yours. Hey, we should take a picture!”
She’s already fussing with her phone when her mother comes around in front of me to shoo her away.
“Corrine! Leave the poor woman alone! She’s trying to catch her breath, and she doesn’t need you…”
As she’s speaking, she glances at me quickly, and then back again immediately, more critically this time, and I watch as it all unfolds in her mind. I see it so clearly. First a curious glance, followed by a moment of confusion, which gives way to sudden recognition. The entire gamut of emotions wraps-up in total, absolute, unadulterated horror.
Yes, at this very second she and I both know it without a doubt. I’m looking at my mother.
24
It’s been eighteen years since Kelly James walked away from her life, from her husband and her only child. Eighteen years without so much as a glance in the rearview mirror at what lay wasted behind her. And now, here she is, standing so close that I could touch her if I wanted to. I don’t.
As we stare at one another in stricken silence, the nausea passes. I’ve stopped shaking and I feel the warmth of blood returning to my hands and my face. I close my eyes to break the intensity between us and I take a few long, deep breaths until finally, I feel as if I can speak again.
“You’re very sweet,” I begin softly, “but I think I’m okay now. I just got a little light headed there for a minute,” I say, setting the water down on the counter and plastering a smile of gratitude on my face. I reach out for Jeremy’s hand and he helps me to my feet, a bewildered expression on his face.
“Julia, I really think you should sit for another minute,” he says.
I see my mother wince at the mention of my name. It’s the confirmation she didn’t want.
“No,” I say a little too firmly. “Really, I’m fine. I’ve taken up enough of these lovely ladies’ time.”
It takes every ounce of determination I have to get across the shop floor and to the door. But I can’t help myself. I pause for a split second with my hand on the knob, holding my breath. This is her opportunity to run after me, but she doesn’t take it. I think I’m going to step outside, just keep going and never look back, like she did all those years ago. But I can’t. My shock is turning to something else now. Something darker. I turn around and face her, still staring at me with wide eyes and a pale face.
“How long?” I ask in a voice I don’t recognize.
She blinks hard and her brows knit together in confusion.
“How long what?”
“How long have you been here? In this perfect town, raising your perfect new family?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Mom?” says the teenager standing behind her mother. Our mother. “Mom, what’s going on?” the girl asks, fear creeping into her voice.
“Aren’t you going to answer her?” I ask when Kelly remains silent. “Or are you going to ignore your child? You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
She stands up and extends a hand out towards me. I don’t know what she’s expecting. Does she want me to take it? Shake it? What?
No. I realize with sudden clarity that she’s reaching for me.
“Julia…” she says, my name barely the shadow of a whisper on her lips.
“Mom!” Corinne says, sounding more demanding as she grows more alarmed.
But Kelly doesn’t move. Her arm remains outstretched, her eyes brimming with tears.
I look down at the hand with disdain, shaking my head.
“Too late,” I say simply.
“Who the hell are you?” Corinne shrieks at me. “What do you want?”
My eyes meet hers; my sister’s eyes. I’m surprised she doesn't see it.
“I’m her daughter,” I say. “And nothing. I want absolutely nothing from her.”
I turn back my back to them and go to the door. This time, I do keep moving, and without so much as a glance over my shoulder. Once we are a safe distance away, I throw my arms around Jeremy’s strong chest. It’s as if his entire body envelopes mine as I sob, wordlessly, inconsolably.
****
The ride back to the city feels unbearably long. The only thing I want to do is go home. Jeremy is very respectful and doesn’t ask any questions when I explain what has just transpired. He takes my hand and leads me gently from train to train to subway until we are in the lobby of my building at last.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say, dropping my hand from his.
He looks a little hurt.
“Do you want me to leave? Because I’m not so sure you should be alone right now.”
“Jeremy, this isn’t what you signed on for. I have a lot– and I mean a lot of baggage. Too much to dump on you. I think this might be a good time to just call it quits. We can stay friends…”
“Friends?” he snorts. “I don’t think so.”
&n
bsp; He grabs my hand firmly and pulls me toward the elevator.
When we get to my door I unlock it. He’s in motion before I can push it all the way open. He shuffles me into the foyer, closes the door behind us and pulls the coat from my shoulders in what feels like one fluid movement.
“Jeremy, I’m really not in the mood to…”
“Julia, get out of those clothes and meet me in the bathroom. I’m going to go get the shower running,” he instructs even as he’s walking down the hallway towards my room.
I’m too tired to argue so I strip down to my underwear and pad down the hall behind him. The bathroom is steamy by the time I get there and Jeremy is testing the temperature of the water with his hand.
“Okay,” he says, reaching around me to unhook my bra from behind. “Let’s get you into a nice hot shower, shall we?”
I step out of my panties and allow him to help me over the side of the tub and into the soothing downpour.
“I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes,” he says, pulling the shower curtain closed.
Music starts to play softly as he switches on the radio I have by the sink. Then I hear the bathroom door close behind him and I’m alone.
I replay it all, every awkward, horrifying moment, over and over again in my mind. Walking into a random shop in a random town, and running into the mother who abandoned me nearly twenty years ago. The chances are infinitesimal.
After she first left, I waited for her to come back for me. I just knew that if I were a good little girl, she would rescue me from my hellish life. But she never did. I blamed myself for that. Then, as I grew older I allowed myself to believe that she didn’t come back because she couldn’t. After all, she had been an alcoholic and a druggy. Maybe she was destitute or sick or in trouble. Maybe she was in jail. Maybe she was dead.
But this… to know that she could have… and didn’t... I can’t finish the thought. I start to cry. Loudly. I think wailing might be the best way to describe the sound that is coming from me.
In an instant he’s there, pulling back the shower curtain and climbing in with me. He’s fully clothed as he wraps his arms around me. And then we are sinking, sliding down until he’s sitting up against the back of the tub, my face buried in his chest. He’s rubbing my back and shushing me as the water pours down on us from above. We stay like that for a long time until finally I look up at him.