Clallam Bay (A Fresh Start #2)

by L. C. Morgan

Amber looked worried. Her date looked impressed. In fact, he was so impressed he mentioned introducing me to his brother, an orthodontist who was flying in from Poughkeepsie that weekend.

  I politely declined.

  By the end of the night I was thoroughly disgusted with myself. I couldn’t breathe by the time I made it up the stairs to my floor. After unsuccessfully trying to throw up everything I’d eaten, I got undressed and settled in on the couch to watch my stories.

  What I really ended up doing was staring at the letter some more, knowing tomorrow would be a repeat of today if I didn’t give in and read it.

  Curiosity got the better of me and I picked it up, looking it over one last time before sliding a finger under the flap and tearing it open. My stomach turned as I unfolded the paper inside and saw his writing for the first time in what felt like forever.

  Dear Hailey,

  The mornings are cold here out in the middle of the Pacific. Colder than they’ve ever been before. But the sun keeps me warm enough when sitting in the rays that reflect off of the surface of the water. The color reminds me of your hair, how at first glance it looks brown, but then the sun hits it just right and it shines red and gold.

  Coll

  Lowering the letter to my lap, I stared off into space for a moment before turning it over to check the other side.

  Nothing.

  I wasn’t sure of how to feel about what I’d just read.

  I guessed my initial reaction was flattery. What girl wouldn’t have been if a guy noticed all the highlights in her hair? But ultimately, I was confused. Did he not remember how we’d left things? Did he not remember all the things he had said to me? Did he not remember how he really felt? How he’d told me he felt? Did he not really feel that way? Had he really been that drunk?

  All these questions were making me second-guess my decision to leave Clallam. It was almost as if he were playing some perverse mind game with me to make me think I’d made the whole thing up. Had I made the whole thing up? Was I making it out to be a lot worse than it really was? Did the conversation even take place at all?

  Yes. Yes, it did. It had to have taken place. In his room. He was on his bed. Yes. It happened.

  I took a sleeping pill and turned in for the night. I woke up the next morning and headed straight for the gym.

  Not knowing what was in the letter couldn’t be used as an excuse anymore. I’d read it. I knew what it said. It didn’t change anything, but it still felt like I had to move on all over again.

  I ran for an hour then took a long shower, reconsidering overseeing the second quarter of summer school. The principal needed an answer in the next couple days. I was probably going to have to take him up on it. Having all this time off wasn’t doing me any good. If I’d learned anything about myself, it was that I was a person who needed to stay busy. At all times.

  Especially now.

  Not quite ready to go home, I twisted my damp hair on top of my head and went to the park instead. I bought a bagel on the way so I could feed it to the ducks, something I had been doing almost daily.

  It was as fulfilling as it was relaxing. I soon found myself calmed enough to go home. Once I made it back I made the mistake of checking my mail, where I found a whole stack of letters bound together by a string.

  *

  “You swear to God you didn’t tell him?” I asked Alyssa during our impromptu, mid-week phone call.

  “Yes, Hailey. I swear. Ya know, it’s not that hard to get someone’s address. Hell, if he was sending them to your address here they’d still most likely make it to you by way of your change of address information at the post office.”

  Of course she was right. That was it. It made sense seeing as all the letters had been written over with my new address, none addressed directly to where I lived now.

  I fought the urge to ask if she’d talked to him, how he looked, or if she thought he noticed I was gone.

  After getting off the phone, I searched the cupboards.

  All I could think about was chocolate and cake. Doritos and Diet Coke.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  No!

  I grabbed my tennis shoes and went out for a run in the opposite direction of the grocery store. I purposefully left all forms of payment at home so I wouldn’t be tempted to turn around, make a tasty purchase, then go home to eat it while I read.

  What was he trying to do to me? Play this off like it was nothing? Did he want to ruin everything I had worked really hard for? Did he want to make me crazy? Why? Why did he want to make me crazy?

  Stopping in my tracks, I rested my hands on my knees, panting like a dog in heat. After a workout was the only time I ever truly craved water. And wouldn’t you know it, I stopped smack dab in front of a street vendor with no money on me.

  I walked slowly back to the apartment, never quite catching my second wind. The only good thing that came from that run was I wasn’t craving anything but a shower anymore.

  Once I was dried off and dressed, I grabbed the wine and cheese, ready to make a night of it. If there was no running from my past like Alyssa had predicted, I was surrendering to it with class and a glass.

  As the first sip seeped into my bloodstream, I opened the next letter.

  Dear Hailey ...

  They all started the same. Some blurry, some not. Some in black. Some in blue. The same color of my heart as I read over them.

  Words like I miss you and I wish you were here floated around on the pages. There were a few times I found myself misting up, but I swallowed down the tears, refusing to shed any more for him.

  Each one was longer and more heartfelt than the last. All still made me question what was reality and what wasn’t. Did it happen? Did it not? Did he remember any of it? At least, that was until I opened the last letter.

  Dear Hailey,

  I came home today to find that you’d gone. I have to admit I had a feeling you would be but chose to ignore it in hopes that you’d still be here when I got back. Maybe we could have sat down and talked. That is if you still wanted to talk to me.

  No. Not really.

  I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

  Please believe me when I say I didn’t want to do this through pen and paper or over the phone if I could help it. However, it looks like that’s not going to happen, so here goes.

  Taking a sip, I braced myself before reading on.

  Every morning I wake up with regret. Not just for my life choices, which you already know. But how I left things between us. Mostly I regret the things I said to you. You didn’t deserve to be talked to like that. Above everybody you deserve respect, Hailey. You deserve better. I wish I could be that better man for you. I don’t know why I can’t. Not now. Not yet. Who knows, maybe never. But maybe one day I can.

  I really wished he hadn’t said that last part. Now I was afraid a part of me would always be holding on.

  I took a moment and another sip of wine before looking back down to read the rest.

  Anyway, I finally got a phone if you can believe that.

  I really couldn’t.

  It’s prepay and a piece of shit but it works. I’m enclosing the number on the off chance you’ll use it. You can call or text anytime day or night. I’m not expecting you to. But I’d like it if you did.

  Coll

  His number had been scribbled at the bottom of the page under his name. I had it memorized at first glance. Not that I’d ever use it. But you never knew. What if I had questions on how to gut a fish one day?

  After folding the paper, I stuffed it back into the envelope. I sat there and stared at it as I topped off my glass of wine, feeling completely unsure about everything.

  *

  The next few weeks dragged. There were only so many museums to visit, so many exhibits to tour. I’d been to the zoo so many times the animals were even starting to recognize me.

  Every night I passed by the letter that held his number, repeatedly talking myself out of dialing it.

&nb
sp; My only relief was when the second quarter summer school started and I had some productive way to spend my time.

  The students would probably say I took it a little too seriously, seeing as I assigned homework every night just so I could grade it. But they’d thank me in the long run when they realized summer school was absolutely no fun and that they should try harder to pass the first time.

  The kids in the class reminded me a lot of Coll. Many were underprivileged, others simply bored, but they all had a story. A reason they acted out or closed down the way they did.

  I often daydreamed I could save each and every one of them. And if not, at least touch their lives in some memorable way like Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Minds.

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose.

  God, I was so lame.

  I’d stayed up later than I had all summer to finish grading the one-page papers I’d assigned on why it was inappropriate to bring your cell phone to class. I wasn’t on mine. Why should they be on theirs?

  It was rude.

  I was in the middle of thanking God I didn’t have to deal with teenagers on a full-time basis when my phone rang.

  I jumped whenever it rang now, like somehow he would get my number, I’d answer and be like, uh …

  But it was only Alyssa.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I’m getting married!”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Yeah! I can’t believe it either. But Ethan asked and I said yes and oh my God!”

  “Yeah.” Oh my God was right.

  “Tell me you’ll come to the wedding.”

  “Um …”

  She whispered to someone in the background. “Hey, Hailey?”

  “Yeah, I’m still here.”

  “I’m gonna have to get off here seeing as a celebration is in order, but I’ll send you the details, okay?”

  “Uh yeah, okay.”

  Alyssa squealed into the receiver. “Two weeks from today and I’ll be Mrs. Ethan Hart! Ahhhh!”

  There was a click then silence before a dial tone started beeping in my ear, which was still ringing from Alyssa’s scream.

  Had I heard her right? Just two weeks and she was getting married?

  “So, what do you think I should do? Do you think I should go?” I asked Amber over a nice dinner of pasta and bread. It was Friday night and Friday night was cheat night.

  “Well, do you want to go?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of have to, don’t I?”

  Amber shrugged in return, taking a sip of her wine.

  “I mean, isn’t there some sort of code?”

  “Code?”

  “Yeah, a code. One that says if your friend gets married you have to be there.”

  “Ah.” Setting her glass back down on the table, Amber winked and shot at me with her finger gun. “The bitch-better-go code, yes.”

  “Would you please be serious?”

  “Oh, you want me to be serious?”

  “Could you?”

  We each gave the other a sarcastic smile.

  “All right, well, if it was me I’d want you to come. I’d be forever heartbroken if you didn’t.”

  I frowned at her answer.

  “What? I don’t know what else to tell you. What is it you want me to say?”

  “I want you to say you’ll come with me.”

  Tilting her head, Amber squinted and pursed her lips. I begged her with my eyes, repeatedly mouthing the word please until she sighed and agreed.

  “Okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. What kind of friend would I be if I let you descend back into the nine realms of Hell all alone?” Amber continued to mumble under her breath, something about destination weddings and what the hell Alyssa could be thinking making us go back there.

  I had to agree. What the hell could Alyssa be thinking?

  Chapter Eighteen

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew exactly what Alyssa was thinking making me go back to Clallam. But I wasn’t going to fall for it. Nope.

  I’d go to the wedding. Of course I’d go, but Amber and I were staying in Seattle. It was all planned out. We’d drive to the ceremony then drive back to the hotel as soon as the reception was over. Regardless of the hour. No matter our condition.

  I made her promise.

  I was only packing one bag, one outfit, one extra pair of underwear. I didn’t need any cushion where it might be okay to stay any longer than necessary. Get in, get out, go home. Like it never even happened.

  I heard a honk and looked out the window to see the cab parked outside. Grabbing my one bag and my purse, I headed down where Amber was sitting in the backseat waiting for me.

  “It’s about time,” Amber said as she popped open the door and scooted across the seat. “Achmed’s air conditioning heats up when idle, and we’ve been sweating our asses off. Isn’t that right, Ach?”

  “Yes, Miss Amber. This is right. Very sweaty,” Achmed agreed in his thick accent.

  I rolled my eyes, ignoring Amber when she questioned the whereabouts of the rest of my luggage. This trip was supposed to be stress-free. It was going to be stress-free.

  I made her promise.

  The cab pulled off the curb, and I watched out the window as the scenery flew by. The ride was a blur. The walk to the terminal, a nightmare seeing as Amber had packed everything but the kitchen sink.

  We were literally only going to be there two nights. Why had I even bothered asking her to come? Why?

  Ah, yes. I remembered.

  While Amber worked her magic to try and get us bumped up to first class, I rummaged through her carry-on, pulling out a pill bottle and popping what I hoped was a Xanax.

  The airport was dead but I still felt claustrophobic. I couldn’t breathe. I was hot and sweating.

  “Who loves you, baby?” Amber asked as she sat down in the seat beside me, waving two tickets in my face. The fan effect felt nice.

  “Ah, just what I’ve always wanted. More leg room.”

  “Don’t be petty, it’s not pretty.”

  “It is without the ‘R.’”

  Giving me the side-eye, Amber handed over one of the tickets.

  “Have I said thank you for coming with me?” I asked as I took it.

  “More times than I can count.”

  Leaning in, I pecked her cheek. “Thank you.”

  The medication started kicking in just in time for us to board. Two strong drinks later, I was flying high—quite literally—reclined in my seat, only half paying attention to the in-flight movie.

  Before I knew it, I was waking up to a full bladder and the voice of the pilot informing us we were landing soon.

  By the grace of the flight attendant I was able to run to the bathroom.

  In the mirror I checked for any unwanted blemishes that may have developed over the last six hours. I found none. Only crease lines from the pillow.

  At least I looked good. Lost some weight. Had a nice summer tan.

  Ah, who was I kidding? I looked like shit.

  After frowning at my reflection, I threw open the door and marched back to my seat.

  It was too soon. I wasn’t ready. The minute we deboarded Amber and I were hopping on the next plane right back to Chicago.

  “What’s wrong? Your flip flop get sucked down the toilet or something?”

  Ignoring her, I flopped down into my seat and fastened my seat belt. My belly flipped as we descended and I looked out the window, watching as the ground came closer and closer.

  Even though we were sitting near the front, we were the last to leave the plane. The urge to kill Amber hit me all over again while I helped her fish her luggage off the conveyor belt.

  After we piled into the cab and were well on our way to the hotel, I checked my phone, finding one missed message from Alyssa. I paled as I listened to it.

  “What’s wrong? Who is it? Is everything all right back in Chicago? What’s going on?” Amber asked, getting mo
re and more concerned with every unanswered question.

  Holding up a finger, I silenced her until the message ended. I leaned back in my seat and set my phone on my lap. “Oh my God.”

  “What? What is it?” Amber asked, leaning forward to better see the look of relief on my face.

  “The venue for Alyssa’s reception double booked.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wait. What does that mean? How does one double book in Clallam?”

  “I don’t know. But thank God they did.” Shaking my head, I cracked a smile. “Turns out the hotel we’re staying at had a cancellation so Alyssa’s getting married there instead. You know what this means, right?”

  “Yeah. No eight-hour round trip. Sweet.”

  “Well, yeah. But no.”

  “I know. I know,” Amber said with a smile, tucking a flyaway behind my ear. “No Clallam, no Coll.”

  My mood changed significantly since hearing the news. I was actually looking forward to the wedding knowing there was no way I’d bump into Coll outside of Clallam. There was no reason for him to be in Seattle. As far as I knew, he and Ethan weren’t friends and he hadn’t been invited.

  Perhaps Alyssa’s intentions were innocent after all. Maybe she really did just want her friend at her wedding.

  Once we reached the hotel, I called Alyssa back, then Amber and I got gussied up to go out and have a few celebratory drinks.

  I slept soundly, miraculously waking up without a hangover. The shower felt cleaner. Breakfast tasted better. The sun shined brighter. The air smelled fresher.

  Amber and I met Alyssa by the fountain out front at exactly noon. We had lunch poolside while Alyssa and I chatted about our students, the parents we couldn’t stand, and how much we missed each other.

  Bored by us, Amber looked on, her eyes blocked by her big, round sunglasses. But she perked up when Alyssa started talking about the local fishery drama.

  “Yeah. Everybody’s up in arms over this new Harbor Master. Something about unnecessary detaining.” She popped a scallop in her mouth, continuing to talk as she chewed. “Apparently he’s been on a mega power trip. The Union was called in, and they’re looking for a replacement.” She smirked. “And I hear your boy Coll is up for it.”

  I looked at Amber who kept a straight face. It was no secret she hated Coll. Said by no means was I to hear from or see him and break because he didn’t deserve me.