Wild Hearts

by Vivian Wood

  “Sure,” Alex said. Faith gave him a look. Since when does he drink margaritas?

  “So,” Faith said as their drinks arrived. “I was so excited when I got your reply—not just about the family connection, but you’re a realtor, too!”

  “Yep,” Hannah said as she took a long sip of her frozen strawberry margarita. “I used to be the only realtor working the Georgia islands. But now with the tourism booming and all . . .”

  “Lots of competition, I bet,” Caleb said.

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Do you know anything about Lydia Capshaw’s property?” Faith asked.

  “Aunt Lydia’s place?” Hannah asked. “Sure. I mean I lost touch with her. Let’s just put it that way. Really, it was my mom’s doing. The whole family kind of, well, cut ties back when I was a child. But I’d look up the estimate from time to time. I still remember playing out there as a kid.”

  “You . . . you knew her?” Faith asked. Suddenly her lime margarita tasted way too sweet on her tongue.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Hannah said with a shrug. “I barely remember her. I think the last time I saw her, I was maybe ten years old? I guess I remember her better than you do, though!”

  “What?” Faith said. “I don’t . . . I didn’t really know her at all. I mean, I didn’t remember coming out to Saint Rose at all until I heard about her passing.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised you don’t remember her.” She shrugged. “I barely do. Most of what I know comes from my mom. Honestly, she wasn’t that memorable, from what I hear,” Hannah said in a faux hushed tone. “But I have a picture of the three of us together. You wanna see it?”

  “What?” Faith’s straw fell out of her drink, but she didn’t bother to pick it up.

  “Yeah! Me and you as babies, and Aunt Lydia. Mighta been at her place, for all I know.”

  “You . . . you have this?”

  “Sure. My mom was super into archiving all the family photos. Got some fancy scanner for Christmas one year. As soon as I saw your post, I started digging through her digital photos. One thing ʼbout Mama, that woman didn’t miss a detail when it came to archiving.”

  Caleb and Alex were silent. They pretended to study the menu as the information sank in for Faith.

  “Hold on, let me pull it up,” Hannah said as she toyed with her phone.

  “I can’t believe this,” Faith said. “This whole time . . .”

  “Here it is,” Hannah said. She passed the phone across the table. “That’s me. I was bald till I was, like, two. And you with that full head of hair. And Aunt Lydia and your dad. My uncle.”

  The photo was a typical early 1990s snapshot. Faith had a bright-pink scrunchie holding up a side ponytail. Aunt Lydia looked stoic, even in the brightly patterned sweatshirt and overly permed hair. She looked like she was playing dress up but came from a much more serious era. Still, there was a quiet beauty about her. She didn’t look a thing like Faith’s dad.

  “I remember you,” Faith said, incredulous, as Hannah tapped through a couple more photos. It was her, the little blonde from her memories. Then again, she knew it would be. “I don’t remember her looking like that,” Faith said softly. She ran a finger over Lydia’s image.

  “You’re not missing out on much,” Hannah said as she put her phone away. “I heard about you every now and then when I was growing up. Apparently, you loved being on that plantation.”

  “I did?” How could she have blocked something like that out? “Do you know how old I was when I stopped going there?”

  “No idea,” Hannah said with a shrug. “Pretty young, though, I’d imagine, a bit older than me. Maybe seven? I heard that Aunt Lydia suddenly got pretty hermitlike in midlife. I don’t know if it was actual agoraphobia or what. But she left that farm and moved into some kind of semi-assisted-living facility.”

  “How old was she?” Faith asked. In the photo, Aunt Lydia couldn’t have been older than thirty-five.

  “Dunno,” Hannah said. “But it wasn’t for the elderly necessarily. It was, you know, for people who weren’t mentally capable of fully caring for themselves.”

  “Oh,” Faith said.

  “Anyway, that’s just a rumor. Who knows how much truth is in it? For all I know, she could have had some torrid love affair with a foreign farmhand and run off to Nicaragua. Who knows? I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time she, well, never mind. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that. Sorry.”

  “Hear about what?” Faith asked.

  “Well, you know, anything about her love life. After your dad . . .”

  “You know?” Faith said sharply. She heard the accusation in her voice, and Hannah’s eyes got big.

  “I, um, sorry? I thought . . .”

  “Does everyone know?” Faith asked. “In the family, I mean? On the whole island?”

  “I don’t . . . I don’t know about people on the island,” Hannah said slowly. “But in terms of the family? Well, yeah. It’s, you know, kind of why your dad had a falling out with everyone. I mean, you know that, though. Right?”

  Faith felt Caleb’s hand, reassuring on her thigh, but couldn’t even register how nicely foreign it felt. “No,” she said bluntly. “I, well, I didn’t piece it together until a few days ago.”

  “But how?” Hannah asked, genuinely confused. “You’re the . . . you’re the one who caught them. I don’t remember it myself, but that’s the story I’ve been told.”

  Tears threatened to spill from Faith’s eyes. “There are stories?” she asked. “I . . . I don’t know. I guess I blocked it out. But going back into that house, it brought it all back,” she said. Faith took a long drink from her water glass to buy time.

  “Oh my God,” Hannah said. “I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table and took Faith’s hand. “I—I mean I never blamed you, of course,” she said. “My mom absolutely flipped. Refused to ever talk to your dad or Aunt Lydia again. Wouldn’t even tell me your name for years, and I was so little I forgot, so I couldn’t look you up.” Hannah’s voice started to tremble, too.

  “It’s fucked up,” Faith said. She sniffed and the tears subsided. “I mean, for my dad to do that? With his own sister? It’s just—”

  “Well,” Hannah interrupted. “I mean, it’s not so bad.”

  “Not so bad?” Faith and the guys all gaped at Hannah at once.

  “What? It’s not like Lydia was a blood relative or anything,” Hannah said. “She wasn’t even formally adopted! She was, like, fifteen and was just taken in by our grandparents so they could be her legal guardians and help her out for a few years.”

  “Wait, what? She wasn’t their biological sister?”

  “Ew, gross, no! Is that—is that what you thought? This whole time?”

  “Well, not this whole time,” Faith said. She started to breathe easier. “I mean, I just remembered what I saw last week.”

  “Oh God, I’m sorry!” Hannah said. “I thought—I thought you knew all that.”

  “So who was she then? I mean, why did our grandparents take her in?”

  “She was a local girl, helped them out during the harvest. Her mom was a single mom, had her when she was a teenager or something. Just up and left her on the island! Ran off to Vegas. From what I heard, our grandparents just helped her out until she started college.”

  “That’s . . . God, that’s so nice to hear,” Faith said. “So then, wow, my poor dad. I mean, first my mom. Then the whole mess with Lydia and the argument with his family.”

  “Honestly? My mom and the family totally overreacted,” Hannah said. “I mean, who cares? I don’t know if it’s because Lydia ended up making bank and owning a whole freaking island and they were jealous, or they thought your dad should mourn forever or something, I don’t know. Small-town drama,” she said with an eye roll.

  “When she died, it was somewhere on the mainland. I forget the name,” Faith said. She was ashamed to admit that she hadn’t really cared or bothered to look into
it. Aunt Lydia was a stranger when she’d found out about the inheritance. Hannah’s picture made her real. The story, the real story, made her—and her dad—people.

  “Yeah, how’d you find out she passed away, anyway?” Hannah asked.

  “She, uh, she left me her property. The plantation.” Faith wasn’t about to tell Hannah about the lump sum of money.

  “Are you serious?” Hannah asked. “That’s . . . that’s amazing! What are you going to do with it? Do you need a realtor?”

  Faith smiled at her. She wasn’t ready to trust Hannah, not just yet. But the girl seemed wholly honest and transparent. There wasn’t a flicker of jealousy in her eyes. Maybe this is what having real family is like. “Not yet!” she said with a laugh.

  “That totally makes sense, though.”

  “What?”

  “That she left it to you! I mean, who knows how long your dad and her were together? After your mom, of course. Spending the summers there . . . God, they must have really been in love. And you being his daughter, I mean that’s the closest she ever got to a daughter. You look like your dad,” she said, and she examined Faith closely. “From the photos I’ve seen of him, at least. Aunt Lydia must have totally adored you.”

  Faith blushed. “I don’t know. So besides her mom, she didn’t have any family? I mean, blood family, of her own?”

  Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Some disgusting creeps of cousins or something,” she said. “Super locals, like backwoods. She never wanted anything to do with them, though.”

  “Yeah,” Faith said. The rednecks. “I can see why.”

  “So tell me more about your plans for the property! Ideas?”

  “I’m not totally sure yet.”

  “You better be sure,” Alex broke in. “After you made me spend how many hours at Home Depot.”

  Hannah looked at Alex in confusion. “Don’t mind him,” Faith said.

  “Is this your boyfriend?” Hannah asked. She tried to make sense of everyone’s relationship. “Do you want to switch seats?”

  “No!” Faith and Alex said at the same time. “I mean,” Faith said, “no, he’s not. But he’s done a lot to help me with the property.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m thinking of renovating it. I am renovating it,” she corrected herself.

  “Seriously? That’s great! That property could be a stunner with the right touch,” Hannah said.

  Faith sighed. “Here’s to hoping.”

  “And then what? Are you . . . are you going to move to Saint Rose?”

  “I really don’t know yet.” She hadn’t thought about it aloud yet, but was it so crazy? “I guess it just feels good, to own property. Land. Very solid.”

  “Very adult,” Hannah agreed.

  The food arrived, and Hannah started to assemble her sizzling fajitas while Faith cut into the blue corn enchiladas. “Wow,” Caleb said as he dug into the carne adovada. “Santa Fe-style. Nice.”

  They ate largely in silence, and Alex piped up that was a good sign. “Means the food is good.” Faith was thankful for the quiet. She stole glances at Hannah and could still see the little girl in her, in the upturn of her nose and extreme cupid’s bow of her lip.

  All four of them turned down dessert, though it took Caleb a minute to truly say no to the tres leches. “Gwen tries, but that’s the one dessert she can’t do,” he said with a sigh.

  “You can always take it to go,” Hannah said.

  “Nah. Gotta watch my figure,” he told her.

  They were one of the last tables to leave the restaurant, and they lingered in the parking lot. Hannah jumped on Faith with another one of her tight squeezes. “Promise me we’ll see each other again,” she said.

  Faith laughed. “You act like one of us is going off to war! Of course we will. You know where to find me for the rest of the summer.”

  “That I do,” Hannah said. “Right where it all started.”

  The guys gave Hannah brief hugs before the trio headed back toward Caleb’s boat. The full moon lit up the dirt road as good as any streetlamp. Faith stole glances at Alex. Why can’t he smile at me like he did at Hannah?

  Alex must be around the same age her father had been when that photo was snapped of her, Hannah, and Lydia. Was life so different on Saint Rose all those years ago? Having a little girl, a dead wife . . .

  Faith shook her head. That photo of her with Aunt Lydia couldn’t have been taken long after her mother passed away. Her father hadn’t hated Georgia at all. Just hated the circumstances. And the stories, filtered through Hannah, who knew how much of it was true? And now there is nobody left to ask.

  But her dad and Lydia? That she knew was honest love. How different could it have been? For him, me, her, all of us? If they’d only given it a real shot, not given a damn what the family thought.

  I shouldn’t judge Dad, she told herself. Or Alex—especially just for not knowing what he wants. Poor Alex, she thought. He’s probably just trying to make it through the day.

  Chapter 23

  Alex

  “Here.” Alex held out his hand to Faith as Caleb docked the boat back on the island.

  “Thanks,” she said. She smiled up at him openly. Alex looked at her curiously. Somehow, in the boat ride back, those walls she’d built up seemed to have crumbled.

  Caleb muttered something under his breath.

  “What was that?” Alex asked.

  “Nothing,” Caleb said. He reached for the pull rope of the engine again. “I got some stuff to take care of. Y’all go on.”

  “It’s almost midnight,” Alex said.

  “Yeah, so? Some things are better done at night,” Caleb said.

  Faith widened her eyes at Alex. They stood and watched as Caleb left in the boat. “What’s with him?” she asked.

  “Who knows? Maybe the night didn’t turn out as he would have liked.”

  A wave of exhaustion washed over him. It had been a long day, a grueling day. Chopping firewood always took it out of him, and those margaritas at Pirate Cove had been strong. Even though Faith seemed a little more open than she had in the past few days, he knew he was nowhere near being in her good graces.

  “God, what a night,” she said. “It’s neat, though. Finding out you have family. I mean, my cousins and all, I know they care about me. But it’s in that required familial way. Hannah’s different, though.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Alex said. The girl had slightly annoyed him. That bubbly personality and lack of boundaries? It put him on edge. Sure, she seemed to be a sweet girl, but I couldn’t handle being around that for long.

  Faith didn’t respond, and he regretted the words. After all, who was he to put a damper on Faith’s excitement? He was spoiled for company when it came to family.

  At the fork, he turned left toward the cabin. He could see the lights from Greystone and didn’t have it in him to be gentlemanly to walk Faith to the door. Besides, I’m sure she’s happy to be rid of me, he thought.

  “Hey! Alex!” He turned and saw Faith as she jogged toward him. “I’m all, I don’t know, wired from tonight, I guess. Are you up for a walk?”

  He almost said no, but it had been so long since he’d seen such openness on her face that he couldn’t resist. “Sure,” he said.

  “Want to head down to the beach?” she asked.

  His chest tightened at the thought. A full moon, the white beach, it was a recipe for romance, and he wasn’t sure if he could manage it. “Sounds great,” he said.

  They walked side by side in silence until the sand began to creep into their shoes. Alex pulled off his sneakers, and Faith put her arm on his shoulder for balance while she slipped out of her wedges.

  He expected her to bombard him with questions. Or start to interrogate him about what they were and what the other night meant. As much as he tried, he couldn’t put together a reasonable answer for that. What were they, anyway? Did the other night mean anything? Of course she still gets me excited, she
was hot as hell. Is there something more than that? But she surprised him.

  After ten minutes, Faith directed them to the shore, and they let the saltwater lick at their ankles. “It’s warm,” she said.

  “Surprised?”

  “I’m used to the so-called beaches near San Francisco,” she said. “And even the water in Southern California where I grew up, they weren’t like this.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” he said.

  “You’ve never been to another beach?”

  “Never been in the water of another beach. Before, well, let’s just say I’ve never been with anyone outside of Georgia that had any interest in getting in the water.”

  Faith stopped and picked up a sand dollar. She rinsed it in the frothy water and tucked it into her pocket. “Tell me about Rebecca,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Tell me about her,” she said simply. “I mean, if you want to.”

  He sucked in his breath. Alex readied himself to tell her he certainly didn’t want to talk about his ex-wife. But when he opened his mouth, he realized that was a lie. Maybe it was time to talk about her. Maybe Faith was the right person. “When Rebecca died, everyone said I should talk to someone. That’s how they all put it. Like saying the word therapist or shrink would have been too extreme.”

  “Did you?” Faith asked.

  “No,” he said and turned to continue to walk. Faith stayed by his side. “I mean, I tried actually. I went to two therapists, but just once each.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Didn’t like it?”

  “I don’t know. At the time I thought it was all bullshit. In reality, either I just wasn’t ready or maybe they weren’t the right ones for me.”

  “I hear you have to try a lot of therapists before you find the right fit,” she said.

  “Hell, who has time for that when your wife just died?”

  Faith was quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet. The kind that made him want to talk more. “Rebecca and I,” he said with a sigh. “We did it all too soon. Met too soon, got married too soon. Looking back now, I know she wasn’t the one. Even if we’d met later, dated more before we got married, it still wouldn’t have been right. Pretty sure she knew it, too.”