Hazel shrugged and looked back out at the clear, flat water. “For not giving up,” she said.
Luke crossed one ankle over the other and settled back deeper into the sand. “You know, I was kind of hoping you’d at least pretend to be mad.…”
Hazel nudged him with her elbow and smiled. “I can’t be mad,” she sighed. “Not when I’m leaving you first, to go to New York.”
Now it was Luke’s turn to look surprised.
“I knew it!” he exclaimed, squeezing her waist in his hands. “I knew you’d end up going. You were planning on leaving me for the big city all along.”
Hazel shook her head forcefully, a playful smile on her lips.
“You totally were,” he continued. “Just leave the little country boy in the dust. Moving on to better things.”
Hazel rested her head on Luke’s chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat echoing deep against her ear. She felt the lump growing in her throat again and swallowed hard.
“Luke,” she said, pulling back to look him straight in the eyes. “I may be leaving, and you may be leaving,” she spoke slowly, her voice now strong and clear, “but there will never be anything better than this.”
She stared into his eyes, watching as they struggled heroically to blink back the beginnings of tears. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I guess some people just meet in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”
His smile faded and his mouth started to twitch, his lips pursing as he fought to hold on to a steady, calming breath.
“Hey.” Hazel nudged him gently. “I have an idea. Everybody’s still up at the party, right?”
Luke cleared his throat and nodded, his eyes still foggy and dazed. “Yeah,” he tried shakily. “Yes, I mean. Why?”
Hazel shot him a sneaky smile and climbed to her feet. She took a quick peek at the ocean, which was calmer now, lapping at the shore in gentle, rolling waves, before glancing back at Luke, one eyebrow perched high, a challenge.
“You want to go in?” Luke asked uncertainly.
Hazel took a few more steps toward the water, feeling the cool night air tickling her legs under the hem of her dress. She reached down and tugged the skirt up, tossing Luke a quick, sly smile over her shoulder.
“Oh man,” Luke said, scrambling to his feet, unbuttoning his shirt and wriggling out of his tie.
Hazel laughed as she tossed her dress up and over her head, taking a few more deliberate steps toward the ocean. She could hear Luke rustling around behind her, kicking his clothes off and hurrying to meet her. But she didn’t wait for him to catch up. She looked out at the ocean, stretching back as if it might never end, as if she could swim out and just keep swimming. And suddenly she was six again, on the dock at the lake, but there was nobody behind her. Nobody pressuring her to jump. It was just Hazel and the sea, the endless sea. Scary, open, and full of possibilities.
All that was left to do was dive in.
After they swam, they slept.
Luke ran back for a sleeping bag and they spread it out at the bottom of the wooden steps. He crawled inside first, holding one side open for her, their damp limbs entwining as they huddled together to stay warm.
They stayed up late, talking, counting the stars, dreaming out loud, and planning the future.
He made her promise she’d write him letters. She said she would. She thought it would be hard to lie, but it didn’t feel like lying.
She said she’d never forget him, and she meant it.
She knew she never would.
Hazel woke up with the first bird’s song, her eyes blinking at the early morning sky. The cliffs were still covered in darkness, the sun just barely tinting the horizon pink and gray.
She had no idea what time it was, or how long they’d been sleeping. Luke was snoring gently beside her, his chestnut hair flecked with sand. His eyelids twitched in his sleep and Hazel thought he must be dreaming.
She didn’t want to wake him. Slowly, carefully, she crawled out of the sleeping bag. In the middle of the night, Luke had wrapped her again in his jacket. Not wanting to change back into her dress, she held the coat tight around her waist.
She found her dress and balled it up in her hands, catching her flip-flops between two fingers. After a long look up and down the beach, the cliffs, the studio, and farm in the distance, she crouched down beside Luke’s head.
She kissed him gently on the forehead, soft and fast. “Good-bye, Luke,” she whispered into his hair. “I hope all of your dreams come true.”
His eyes twitched faster and he rustled in the sleeping bag. Hazel’s heart stalled. It looked for a moment like he might wake up.
But he burrowed deeper into the bag, pulling it tighter under his chin. His eyes stopped twitching and a peaceful calm settled over his face.
Hazel smiled and turned in the sand. Somewhere in the trees, the bird she’d woken up to had found a friend, and together they sang a sweet duet as she carefully climbed the stairs, leaving the beach, and Luke, behind her for good.
31
The plan was to sneak out while everyone was still asleep.
Downstairs on the kitchen table, there was a folded schedule of ferry departures, and Hazel decided she’d be on the first boat. That gave her just enough time to grab her bag and start walking. If she caught a ride on the road, even better, but if she had to walk, she’d make it if she left right away.
Hazel climbed the steps in the guesthouse, careful to skip the few that creaked the worst. Pale sunlight shone through the tiny bathroom windows as she quickly changed back into her dress. The only sounds were the whooshing of water in the pipes, the occasional call of a gull swooping past. It was amazing to think that in just a few hours the place would be buzzing as everybody else finished packing and started saying their good-byes.
Hazel knew she couldn’t stand to be there. To make more promises about staying in touch that she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep. Better just to disappear. She’d leave a note. They’d understand.
At the door to her room, Hazel stopped, one hand closing over the wooden knob. How could she leave without saying good-bye to Jaime? Her eyes stung and she squeezed them tight to keep from crying.
She didn’t have a choice. She knew what she had to do. She might as well do it fast.
Hazel pushed open the door without making a sound, spotting her bag in a heap at the end of her bed. She’d packed the day before. All it held inside of it were the three dresses—the original, still-torn dress that she’d never worn, the one that had brought her to the island, and the one that brought back Reid—her collection of photographs, and her camera. The bag felt flimsy as she quietly lifted it up and slung it over her shoulder, and she wondered for a moment if she should even bother bringing it at all.
It was time to go. Hazel took a few careful steps toward the door, pausing for one last look at Jaime. She was still asleep but had folded the blanket down from over her head. She was facing the wall, her eyes shut, her hair still wild and free.
As soon as Hazel reached the door, she heard a rustling on the bed.
“Hazel?” Jaime called out, just as the door was closing.
Hazel waited for a moment. It would probably be better just to leave. Pretend she was never there. Maybe Jaime would think she’d imagined it.
“Hazel, I can see your feet.”
Hazel looked down at the crack beneath the door and smiled. “Hey,” she whispered, poking just her head back inside. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.”
Jaime pushed herself up onto her elbows and squinted at Hazel, her features scrunched together and confused. “I was just having the strangest dream,” she mused, before shaking her head. “What time is it?”
“Early,” Hazel said. “I’m going to try to make the first boat.”
Jaime sat up all the way and leaned forward, her hair tumbling down toward the shapes of her knees, still swaddled in blankets. “You’re leaving?” she asked.
Hazel closed the door beh
ind her and sat across from Jaime on her bed. She nodded slowly. “I should get back home,” she explained. “School starts soon, and—”
“I hate good-byes, too,” Jaime interrupted. “I was planning on sneaking out on you, too.”
“You were?” Hazel smiled.
Jaime nodded and pulled the quilt up around her shoulders. “I told Rosanna last night,” she said softly. “I’m going with them to California.”
Hazel smiled, a calm settling inside her. She put a hand on Jaime’s shoulder, the quilt warm and soft on her skin. She imagined Jaime taking the quilt with her to California, and then maybe to Peru, the one piece of home she’d always carry with her, wherever she went. It made her happy to know that Jaime wouldn’t be alone.
Without another word, Jaime fell forward and wrapped Hazel in a hug. Her body was still heavy with sleep and smelled sweet, like a baby. Hazel held her tight, fighting back the tears that were pooling in her eyes. She wanted to tell her everything. How meeting Jaime had made all of her wishes come true. Even the ones she didn’t know she was making.
But she knew that she couldn’t. She untangled herself from Jaime’s arms and forced a smile; then she stood and walked quickly to the door.
“So I’ll see you when we get there?” Jaime asked hopefully, stretching her arms and falling back into the pillows. “To California?”
Hazel stopped at the hall. She couldn’t lie again. She knew she couldn’t tell Jaime the truth, but she couldn’t lie anymore, either. She turned to look at Jaime over her shoulder.
“Tell me about your dream,” Hazel said. Jaime was already tucked back under the quilt, curled in a tiny ball near the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes and smiled.
“Yesterday,” she began sleepily, “when we were hanging up the lights for the party, you were talking about the baby and you called it a she. And ever since then, I’ve had this feeling you were right. I can’t explain it. I just know.”
Jaime reached out from under the covers and scratched the bridge of her nose with one hand. With her eyes still closed, she continued. “And last night, in my dream, I had my baby,” Jaime said. She was smiling now, a small, sweet smile, and her voice was softer, her words slower and farther apart. “I saw her. I got to hold her. She was so beautiful. The most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen. And I named her Hazel. After you.”
Hazel stood frozen in the hallway, shivers racing up and down her arms. Jaime’s breathing deepened, and she was still mumbling as Hazel started to pull the door closed.
“I love you, Hazel,” she heard Jaime say, just as the door was almost shut.
Hazel closed the door and stood beside it, one hand pressed against the frame.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
32
The boat was nearly empty when Hazel got on. In the booths on the lower level, a few early morning commuters slept beside their lunch coolers. Hazel felt a quick shot of envy as she walked past. How lucky they were, she thought, to get to come home at the end of the day. To get to come home here.
Hazel quietly climbed the stairs and walked past the snack bar, smiling at the woman behind the row of steaming pots of coffee. The woman wore a uniform of matching pink visor and shirt, and was picking at the crumbs of a Danish wrapped in plastic. Hazel thought about eating. Who knew when she’d have another chance? But something told her she’d be too anxious to keep anything down.
She was here for a reason.
Hazel pushed through the heavy steel door, a gust of wind forcing her to take wide, underwater-type steps across the deck.
Most of the plastic blue chairs at the front of the boat were empty. In the far corner, a man in a Boston Red Sox cap was lifting up a little boy and angling him out over the railing. The boy had a mop of dark hair and was holding out one chubby fist, clutching a piece of bread between his fingers. Every so often, a sea gull would swoop down and lunge for the bread, and the boy would squeal, tugging his hand sharply back. Finally, the man took the bread himself, and held it far above the boy’s head. The little boy clapped as the gull finally scooped it up. He’d really just wanted to watch, all along.
Hazel smiled to herself as she walked down the side corridor, passing the wall of windows and finding a quiet spot halfway between bow and stern. It was a rare, crisp morning, with very little fog, and it felt like she could see all the way back to Rosanna’s estate if she looked long enough. The harbor town was sleepy and still, the beach empty, the roads long and winding and with only one or two cars in sight.
Hazel swung her bag onto the railing and took out her camera. She held it up and squared as much of the island as she could get in the lens, taking a picture. When it came out, she flapped it in the breeze.
It was surprisingly warm for being so early, though she was glad to be still wearing Luke’s coat. She’d meant to leave it on his bed in the barn before she left—along with the picture of herself, the one Reid had taken of her on the beach—but she’d been in such a hurry that she’d forgotten.
And she was glad to have something to cover the dress. It wasn’t exactly an outfit for traveling in, particularly not so early in the day.
Hazel watched as the blurry image in the photo cleared. She heard voices calling from the dock, ropes being untied and the groaning of machinery, the engine rumbling beneath her feet. She looked up to see a patch of water growing between the end of the boat and dock. For a moment it looked like it was the island that was receding, slipping off into the ocean, floating toward the horizon.
She took one last look at the island, matching it to the image in her hand, before tucking the photo carefully with the others in her bag. She laid the bag on the ground beside her feet, and slipped out of Luke’s coat. She folded it twice, laid it on top of the bag, and turned to the railing.
The island was just a strip of land now, grass and sand and tiny houses, shimmering as it sat quietly on top of the water. Hazel closed her eyes and took a full breath, the salty, sweet air filling her lungs, tickling her nose, and drying the damp, sticky corners of her eyes.
She thought of Luke, probably still asleep on the sand. And of Rosanna and Billy, waking up, enjoying their last morning at the house. She thought of Maura and Craig, getting up to feed the animals in the barn.
She thought of Jaime, and she instinctively touched the shell around her neck.
She’d wished to get to know her mother. And she had. No matter what happened, she would always have that. It was a gift, a gift she never imagined she’d be given. She may never see the island, or Jaime, again, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that she’d been there once. She’d known them all for a little while.
And now it was time to go home.
“I’m ready,” she whispered under her breath. “No more excuses. No more looking back. I wish to go back to my life, wherever it takes me, and whoever I become.”
Hazel’s heart was racing as she snapped her eyes open, waiting with her lungs full.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then, just like twice before, the fluttering. The gentle flapping of material at the hem of her skirt. She looked down, underneath the fabric, to where the little golden tag was struggling to detach itself.
Slowly, the glowing butterfly broke free, hovering up near her face, its tiny wings beating against the air. She smiled, remembering the first time she’d seen it. How she’d thought she was losing her mind. When really, she was starting to find it.
The butterfly was still hanging in the air when a thick gust of wind swirled around Hazel’s ankles, kicking up pieces of sand from the deck and whipping her hair around her face. The butterfly looked trapped, and Hazel almost wanted to reach out and save it, but the wind was too strong. It built up to a howl, scooping the little bug up and carrying it away, until it was just the faintest light, burning high above the whitecaps in the distance.
The wind picked up again, growing even stronger, and Hazel shielded her eyes with one arm. She struggled to stan
d, to stay by the railing, but the wind was driving her back. She staggered toward the window, burying her face against the glass, tasting the spray of the ocean on her lips. She pressed her eyes closed, her heart pounding in her ears as the wind screamed in circles around her.
A blinding white light flashed across the insides of her eyelids, and Hazel felt herself falling to the floor, gripping her head in her hands, and hoping it would all soon be over.
And then it was.
33
Even with her eyes squeezed shut, Hazel could feel the dark.
She slowly blinked them open. The wind had vanished, leaving an eerie quiet, and all around her was a darkness, more inky blue than black.
As her eyes adjusted she saw a tiny glowing light, and thought for a moment that it was the butterfly, still stuck somewhere in space. Slowly, she realized it was the twinkling of a star, as hundreds of others came into view, huddled together against the open sky.
She pulled herself carefully up to her feet, and walked out toward the railing. She was still on the side of the ship and had to crane her neck in one direction or the other to see past it. She looked behind her first and felt her stomach flip.
The mountains of Marin were fading into the darkness, the bridges hovering high and bright on either side.
Slowly, without breathing, she turned the other way, the slick blanket of ocean slipping past the hull. Ahead, she saw the lights of San Francisco, the familiar skyline, the open port.
It was home, and she was headed toward it.
Hazel looked back at the window, now recognizing the boat as the ferry to Larkspur. The one she’d gotten on, in tears, that night after learning that her mother—or the woman she’d thought was her mother—was dead.
Rosanna. Hazel’s heart ached as she thought of the event, Billy inside at the bar. Rosanna was still gone. Nothing would change that.
In fact, nothing had changed at all. Hazel checked her watch. It was 9:42. And the date, months earlier, the very day she’d left. Only a few short hours after she’d first climbed on board.
Wishful Thinking Page 18