by Noelle Adams
Then seven years ago, Phil’s father had discovered a secret that had been buried for years. Jed Holiday’s business might have been successful, but it was built on a lie, on a deep betrayal.
Phil’s grandfather had helped out Holiday early on and, per their verbal agreement, should have been given a piece of the business profits when Holiday Acres started to do well.
But Holiday had been a businessman more than a friend, and he’d cheated the Matheson family out of what they deserved.
Then when Phil’s father had discovered this from going through papers after Phil’s grandfather’s death, Holiday had outright denied it.
The conflict had intensified and spread to their families—and then to the larger community, all of whom had taken sides. So many people refused to believe that Jed Holiday would cheat anyone, so the Mathesons had paid a large price for trying to seek justice and vindication.
There was no way Phil’s relationship with Rebecca could survive such a thing. She kept defending her father, and Phil couldn’t stomach it for long.
The feud continued until both their fathers died, but Phil left town long before then.
The conflict had knit Rebecca’s family closer together, but it had torn Phil’s family apart.
Four years ago, Laura Holiday had uncovered proof that the Mathesons had been right all along. Their grandfather had been cheated by Jed Holiday. Mrs. Holiday and her daughters had made a gesture of reconciliation by offering the surviving Mathesons a partnership in Holiday Acres.
Phil had refused. He wanted nothing to do with it. With them.
His two brothers had also refused. They hadn’t left the area like he had, but they were just as embittered by how their family had been treated.
The only Matheson who had accepted the offer was Phil’s Uncle Russ, his father’s much younger brother.
Phil had been surprised by his uncle’s actions, and he’d been angry at first since it offered the Holidays a way to assuage their guilt.
He was thinking about this—about all this—when his phone rang later that day and he saw his Uncle Russ’s name on the screen.
Ever since he’d left town, Russ had called him once a week. Like clockwork. No matter what. Even at the beginning, when Phil hadn’t even answered the phone.
He stared at the name for a few seconds before he answered. “Hey.”
“Hi, Phil. How’s it going?”
“Not good. But I’m guessing you know something about that.”
“What do I know?” Russ was only in his midforties, but for as long as Phil could remember, Russ had acted like a cynical old man—always ironically distant, like he observed the world from outside instead of actually living it. He sounded almost amused right now with a dry irony Phil knew well.
“No one back at home knows where I am except you, Kent, and Scott. They would never have told anyone, so I’m assuming it must be you.”
“Did someone you know show up unexpectedly?”
His uncle’s wry amusement made him snarl. “This isn’t funny. It’s downright mean. Do you really hate me that much?”
“I don’t hate you, Phil,” Russ said, his tone changing into a rare, tired earnestness. “You know I don’t. And honestly I had nothing to do with it except answering when Laura asked me where you were.”
“Laura? So it was her?”
“Who else? The woman thinks she can arrange the whole world to her specifications, and most of the time she’s right.”
Phil paused for a moment, thinking through what he’d just heard in Russ’s voice. It wasn’t just the normal amused irony. There was something else there too.
Something almost fond.
“You like them,” Phil said, soft and accusatory. “Damn it, Russ. You told me you joined up with them for the money, but it’s more than that now. You like them.”
Russ didn’t answer immediately. “They can’t be blamed for what their father did.”
“But they can be blamed for what they did afterward.”
“They didn’t know. He was their father, and they didn’t know.”
“And the man they cheated was your father. Does that mean nothing to you?”
“Sure it does. But it’s years over now. Enough damage has been done. It’s not worth holding on to.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Maybe. I’ve been wrong before.”
“Damn it, Russ.”
“You’ve said that already. A couple of times.”
Phil let out a hoarse sigh. “Shit.”
“Hiding out the way you’ve been doing obviously isn’t working for you.”
“It is work—”
“So maybe you could consider getting closure—with Rebecca at least. She was eighteen years old when everything happened. She was barely more than a child. You really think that sweet little girl was evil for believing her dad?”
The words stabbed Phil through the heart. Made him feel stupid, guilty. “There’s more to it than that. You know that. And I never thought she was evil.”
“So talk to her. Find out who she is now. Get some closure. You don’t have to do anything drastic or give up your lazy life of fishing and avoiding all things personal. Just talk to her. I bet you’ll find that all those memories aren’t as painful afterward. It worked for me.”
Phil ended the call without too much bitterness, and he thought about what Russ had said for a long time.
Closure.
It would be nice.
And it didn’t have to change anything substantial in the life he’d made for himself here.
Three
THAT EVENING, REBECCA got an ice-cream cone and walked out onto the pier, knowing she’d run into Phil.
She wasn’t normally like this. She usually avoided conflict when she could and didn’t fight battles that would never accomplish something worthwhile. Normally, she’d tell herself it wasn’t worth it and just let it go.
But she wasn’t going to let Phil believe she was cowed—by him and the prospect of seeing him again. He probably still thought of her as that naïve, compliant girl he’d known from high school—one he could scare off with glowers and glares.
She wasn’t that girl anymore, and she wasn’t going to let him win.
So she made her way down the beach and then out on the pier, recognizing Phil’s lean back at the far end in the same position he’d been the evening before. She didn’t go all the way out to him, but she went far enough that it was clear she wasn’t afraid of running into him.
She stood there, looking out at the sky and the bay, and she licked her chocolate ice cream as quickly as she could before it melted.
Phil didn’t turn to look at her. She wasn’t even sure he knew she was there.
It bothered her.
She was acutely conscious of him, but he wasn’t of her.
She was trying to decide what she should do when her borrowed phone rang. She hesitated briefly before she flipped it open and answered the call.
“Are you still mad at me?” Laura asked.
“Kind of.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I was just trying to help. You know that.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make it better. I still feel used, being set up like this. And I don’t know how you could possibly think it would help me. What good can come out of this ridiculous matchmaking with a guy who dumped me years ago? There’s obviously no hope for a future with him now.”
“Oh no,” Laura said, more earnest now, worried. “I really wasn’t trying to be a matchmaker. That’s not me at all.”
“Then why would you—”
“I thought you needed closure.”
“Closure?” Rebecca nibbled at her cone and licked up some more melted ice cream. It was a race against time with it now to get it eaten before it all dribbled away.
“Yes. Closure. That’s really all this was about. You needed a vacation. That much was real. Penny and Olivia t
hought so too, so they helped with the plans. And then I’ve always been worried that you’re still holding on to... that you haven’t moved on from him.”
“I have. I have moved on.”
“Have you? You haven’t given another guy a second glance since high school.”
“I’ve dated—”
“You’ve gone through the motions. You never considered any of those guys seriously. Be honest with yourself.”
Rebecca breathed through the wave of resentment and tried to think it through sincerely.
And Laura was right.
Of course she was right.
Rebecca had never really gotten over what happened with Phil. He was always at the back of her mind whenever she dated other men.
Laura went on as if Rebecca had answered. “So I thought, why not combine a vacation with a possibility of getting closure. I’m not expecting you to run off and marry him or anything stupid like that. You know I don’t believe in fated soul mates or one-true-loves or any of that nonsense. I’m practical. And, practically speaking, you need to resolve things better than they were resolved before. So I thought if you saw him again, maybe you could...”
Rebecca sighed, her eyes resting on Phil’s upright back and golden brown hair. “I don’t know if closure is possible.”
“Of course it is. It’s always possible even if it’s just one-sided. Give it a chance. Talk to him. Get to know him how he is now. You’ll probably realize that he’s not anything like you remember, and then you’ll see that you wouldn’t even want him anymore. Wouldn’t knowing that help you move on?”
Rebecca felt a stirring in her chest as she watched Phil with his fishing rod, a force inside her reaching for him, drawing her toward him.
She’d felt that same force when she was a teenager. She’d believed it was the most powerful feeling in the world back then.
But she was older now. Smarter. And it would be very nice to get to the point where she had that stirring force under control.
He did seem different.
Maybe Laura was right.
Maybe if she tried to see him for who he was now she would finally get rid of this compulsion toward him.
It was worth a try anyway.
“You still there?” Laura asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”
“Okay. I get it if you’re still mad at me, but at least think about what I said. I’m usually right, you know.”
Rebecca made a grumbling noise—the only fit response for Laura’s claim—and then she said goodbye and hung up.
She kept gazing in Phil’s direction as she finished her ice cream, and she was wiping her mouth when he suddenly turned around and looked right at her.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Closure.
It wasn’t a bad idea.
She did want to be free of these feelings.
She felt herself making a strange little nod.
After a moment, Phil returned the gesture. Just a nod. Not even a smile.
But it felt like they’d understood each other. Like they’d bumped their way over a hurdle.
Laura had wanted Rebecca to talk to Phil, but a rush of nerves overwhelmed her as she looked at him standing on the pier, the wind ruffling his shirt and his hair, so she balled up her napkin and turned to walk away.
Closure would be good, but she could try talking to him tomorrow, when she’d had some time to make sure it was what she wanted.
THE NEXT MORNING, SHE felt braver and more determined, so she woke up fairly early and dug out a fishing pole from the supplies in the lower storage area of her house that she’d noticed the day before. Then she headed out to the pier.
Phil was already there.
She walked past him, and their eyes met when she took a position several feet away from where he stood.
She nodded the way she had the evening before, and he nodded back.
She wondered if she should say something, but she didn’t know what to say. So she was silent as she prepared her line.
She’d found plenty of fishing line and a few lures with the rod and reel in the storage area, and last night she’d read a couple of fishing books she’d found on a shelf in the house. It hadn’t looked very hard when she was reading about it, and she was glad of the lures because she wasn’t too keen on buying worms from Phil’s shop to bait a hook.
She did the best she could, hoping Phil wouldn’t see her fumbling as she tied the lure to the line with the clinch knot she’d read about. Then she threw the line out as far as she could.
It didn’t go very far, but the lure was in the water.
She waited for something to happen.
She waited a long time.
Fishing was a very odd and boring activity. Why the hell was Phil so fond of it?
She looked over at him on and off, and half the time she caught him looking at her too. Whenever their eyes met, both of them would look away quickly.
Her resentment and self-consciousness gradually faded, transformed as he stood on the pier and tried to fish.
It was kind of funny—both of them standing here side by side with their fishing poles, neither saying a word to the other.
She wanted to laugh, even though she still believed Phil had been an ass for the past two days.
She used to have the same experience when she threw temper fits as a child. No matter what had upset her, eventually she would start to see herself as if from outside, recognizing how melodramatic she was being and then starting to find it ironically amusing. The humor would cut through her other emotions like a pair of scissors, leaving them in fragments.
She could feel it happening to her now.
The next time she glanced over and caught Phil’s eye, his lips twitched slightly before he looked way.
She had to hide a smile.
He must think it was kind of funny too.
She felt a tug on her line and got excited, so she started to reel it in. But the pull on the line disappeared almost immediately, and she was ridiculously disappointed when she realized that a fish must have taken the lure right off the line.
When she reeled in the empty line, she examined the end and saw that it wasn’t broken.
“The knot must have pulled loose,” Phil said.
She frowned. “I did a clinch knot like you’re supposed to do.” Then she added, “I thought I did.”
She pulled out another of the lures she’d brought with her and tried to knot that one on, wondering what she was doing wrong.
“Do you want me to check it for you?” Phil asked.
She was about to give him an automatic refusal, but then she raised her eyes to his face. His expression wasn’t amused or lofty or pleased or obnoxious. He was asking for real.
Closure.
If she made a few efforts now, maybe she’d feel better for the rest of her life.
“Okay,” she agreed. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“Is it your first time?” He set down his own rod and moved to stand beside her.
“Yeah. I found this stuff at the house.”
“You’re doing good for your first time.” His tone and expression were sober as he checked her line.
He wasn’t flirting with her or teasing. That much was clear. It sounded like he meant what he said.
“Is it okay?” she asked as he examined her work.
“I can show you how to make a better knot if you want.” His eyes moved from the knot to her face and then back.
“Okay. Thanks.”
She paid attention as he demonstrated the knot, and then he watched her do it herself, making a few suggestions as she did. After a few minutes, she felt more confident, and she was pleased with her work as she got ready to cast her line.
“Here,” he said, moving an arm around her to adjust the position of her hands. “You’ll get it farther doing it this way.”
She did as he said, satisfied that she’d improved significantly when her lure wen
t much farther out into the water.
She had to remind herself she was only seeking closure with Phil. Nothing else. So the feel of his warm body behind her, the smell of his clothes and his hair, the strength she recognized in his hands—all of that didn’t matter at all.
“Thank you,” she said. “That really helped. You’re a good teacher.”
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks. You’re welcome.” He lowered his eyes as if she’d embarrassed him. “I do lessons sometimes—with the shop.”
“Well, you’re good at it.” She wasn’t really smiling at him. It didn’t feel like a smiling conversation.
But it felt a lot better than yesterday morning’s conversation had been.
Phil went to get his own rod and moved a bit closer to where she was standing. They both fished in silence until Rebecca finally felt the need to say something.
“I didn’t know you lived here.” That was what she said.
Phil gave a little jerk. “What?”
“I didn’t know you lived here. I really had no idea. I promise I never would have come had I known... I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because the other day you made it sound like—”
“I know how I made it sound. I was surprised, but I could see you were as shocked as me. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. It was Laura’s doing, I assume.”
“Yes. She does that kind of thing all the time—maneuvering people around like they’re chess pieces. She does mean well, but it sure gets annoying.” Rebecca slanted him a look. “She thought I needed closure.”
“What?”
“Closure. That’s what she said. I need closure—from the thing with you back then.”
“Closure.” Phil was shaking his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Damn it.”
“Why damn it?”
“Your sister and my uncle have been conspiring.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Russ said almost the exact same thing to me yesterday. I was angry because he was obviously the one who’d told where I was, and he said I needed closure. Those were his exact words.”