Written in the Sand

by D. B. James

  Hanging my towel to dry on the empty heated towel bar near the his and hers sinks, I throw on my sundress, toss my towel dried hair up into a ponytail, and call it decent. After a swipe of lip balm, I’m ready for the day. If I felt better, I’d be putting in more of an effort when it comes to my appearance, but truth is, I feel sort of shitty.

  Walking down the stairs, I hear Case before I see him. He must be on the phone because he’s answering questions I’m not privy to. He spies me walking toward him, gives me a slight head nod, and continues on with his conversation. His staying on the phone doesn’t bother me one bit because the moment my foot hits the last step, I spy the Keurig machine on the kitchen island, a coffee mug and tons of K-cups resting near.

  Mmm. Coffee.

  Grabbing the mug, I place it under the machine, grab a random K-cup, and press brew on the biggest cup it’ll make me. Would it be wishful thinking if I want Case to stay on the phone until at least the last drop from this mug of sweet, sweet nectar hits my tongue? Yeah, I don’t think it’s illogical. I’m quite the bitch before caffeine hits my body. Add in my hangover, I’m betting on the snarky side of me winning the day, more than cool, calm-headed Tenley.

  Michael always laughed when he’d hand me my coffee each morning. He’d go out of his way to find me quirky mugs to use each day. My favorite one?

  First I drink the coffee. Then I do the things.

  The day before his death, he bought me two new mugs. I’ve never taken them out of the bubble wrap, except to look at them when he gifted them. When I get home from this trip, I’m going to our house and getting those two mugs. I’ll drink from them every day until I buy myself more.

  Why?

  Because when I was glancing through the box of vintage pictures yesterday, someone had written a lovely message on the back of one. It couldn’t be more fitting for my life. It’s how I knew those pictures were meant to be mine.

  It’s a picture of a beautiful girl. She’s fifteen, has curly dark hair, and even with the sepia tone of the picture you know by observing her the rouge on her lips is bright red. Her name was scrawled in a neat script on the back. With a birthdate, the date the picture was taken…and a death date. The inscription on the back says— “Some of our best living is done with the people we’ve lost kept in mind.”

  On the drive to the first brewery, I took the picture out of the box and placed it in my wallet. I wanted to carry young Cativa and the message with me. As a gentle reminder to live, but to always have Michael in my mind and heart. It’s where he lives now. I believe her picture was exactly what I needed at the precise time. My confusion over Case hasn’t been extremely daunting. Which I admitted to him.

  Lifting the mug up to drain the rest of my coffee, I see Case moving closer. It’s then I realize how quiet it’s become in the place. How long has he been watching me think?

  “How are you feeling this morning, mo ghaol?”

  “Peachy.” The comment slips from my mouth. It’s not what I planned to say, but it is the truth.

  His rich deep laughter fills the room, bouncing off the walls. At least someone finds my hangover humorous.

  “When you awoke, I was out running to the corner drugstore. I knew you’d need some pain relievers for what has to be a killer headache, and I was out of them. The run took a few minutes longer than I thought it would. Sorry if you were scared when you woke to an empty apartment. It won’t happen again while you’re here. Promise.”

  “It’s fine. Not a big deal, honestly. I figured it was something of the sort, either you ran out for breakfast or maybe an actual run. I trusted you to be back before long. Which reminds me, how in the hell is my suitcase here?” I ask.

  “Since we left it at the hotel, it was easy enough. Your keys fell out of your purse at brewery number four, on one of your many searches for your phone, which was always in my pocket. You knew where it was, but yet kept searching your purse. I snagged your keys. After I was sure you were done getting sick, I called an Uber to take me to my truck. From there I went to the hotel, paid you up on parking for the next three days, and snagged your luggage. I couldn’t sleep anyway, figured I’d put my insomnia to good use,” he says.

  Oh. Okay then. My mouth remains to stay open, I dropped my jaw sometime around the time he said I kept searching my purse for my phone.

  “I was a fucking handful, huh?” I jest. Mostly.

  “Never. You, my beautifully tragic mo ghaol, were a gorgeous disaster.” The way his eyes shine when he says this makes me believe the words passing through his lips.

  Boy, am I in trouble.

  The day slips away from me and before I know it we’re on Case’s friend Landon’s pontoon, waiting for the fireworks display to begin. This day has been spectacular. From the BBQ, to the scenery, to the company, every single thing has been exactly what I’ve been searching for…

  Peace.

  My mind has been silent since this morning. There’s been no second guessing myself and I went with the flow for each decision I made today. I’ve gone as far as to grab Case’s hand myself and thread our fingers together. When another girl was making eyes at him, I staked my claim on him. Silently letting her know he was taken. At least for the time I’m here. If we keep progressing, it’ll take effort from both our sides. If he’s shown me anything these last few days, he’s proven to me the risk I’d be taking in putting my healing heart on the line would one-hundred percent be worth any havoc I’ll have to wade through in order to find my happiness again with Case.

  Dr. Beesley would be proud of me. Hell, I’m proud of me. If Van wouldn’t have suggested this trip, I wonder if I’d be where I am now mentally? Would I have made such vast steps without her pushing me from the comfort of my nest?

  “Tenley, the fireworks are about to start, come join me,” Case states from his seat near the front of the boat. He’s seated with Landon and a knockout brunette I’ve yet to meet. Which isn’t saying much, since most of my time on board has been occupied by Case. He’s introduced me to two people. Two. He claims he knows every person aboard, but I have my doubts. And I have been giving him slack for it over the last hour.

  Strolling toward them, I remove my hands from my pockets, stop near the dark-haired beauty, and politely hold out my hand, “I’m Tenley, I don’t believe we’ve met, you are?”

  “Moon, Landon’s wife.” Her answer is short and clipped. She doesn’t take my proffered hand to shake, only snubs her nose at me and turns her head away. She completely dismisses me.

  Bitch.

  Really, who names someone Moon? Bet she has a sibling named Sun. Yep, my claws are out.

  “Okay, then, I’ll move along to my seat. Clearly, you’re the catty type. Stored away for future reference.” Shit. I said it all out loud, didn’t I? Oh, well, it’s the damn truth.

  “Clearly, you’re merely another notch on his bedpost. Therefore, I see no reason to play nice,” Moon snaps back.

  “You’re delusional. Number one, whatever I do have with Case is none of your—or anyone else’s for that matter—business. But know this, it is beautiful and light waves above notches on bedposts. Number two, when a lady offers you a hand to shake, you shake her hand. It’s called having manners. Maybe you’ve heard of them, one thing I do know for certain is you could use some, Moon.” Her name slips from my lips laced with venom, I see no reason to be nice. “Maybe you’re unhappy in your own life and need to be rude to new people you meet. But let me tell you from experience, it doesn’t push them away. It pulls them in closer. My husband dying sure has taught me how to push people away, but it’s also taught me not to let the great ones go when they stumble into your bookstore searching for a Stephen King book and leave with two novels you penned yourself. Yeah, maybe you don’t see a reason to play nice, but I do. Because I’m going to try my hardest to be a part of Case’s life forever.”

  Before she musters up the gall to reply, I feel Case’s hand on the small of my back, leading me to the seats he had saved for
us. He’s trying to keep me from harm, but he doesn’t have to. I can handle catty women like Moon. I’ve been dealing with them my whole life. They see my blonde hair, blueish green eyes and think I’m the typical girl next door. They don’t expect me to be a well-educated, highly-respected, best-selling author. Not to mention someone who has the balls to speak for herself.

  They think an author like me should appear like Nora Roberts or Danielle Steel and not be a younger more modern young thirty-something. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not sixty, married (anymore), surrounded by grandchildren, and writing romance for your mother.

  “I had her handled, Case,” I whisper into his ear, as not to be overhead, since Landon and Moon are seated nearby.

  “Never said you didn’t, mo ghaol,” he whispers back.

  “She wanted me to know her claws are sharp, is all,” I whisper half into his ear, half near his cheek. He turns his head while I am speaking. His lips are seeking mine. He misses. I turn my head as quick as possible when I hear the first pop of a firework release into the mid-summer night sky.

  I’m disappointed I missed our first kiss, but I know it’ll come soon enough now. If he doesn’t kiss me while the fireworks are lighting up the Texas sky, I don’t know when he will. We’ve yet to progress from the forehead kiss. And I desperately want us to move forward.

  One may go as far as to call me anxious about moving forward.

  The display in the sky is mesmerizing.

  The local radio station has choreographed music to sync with each firework as it’s set off. It’s heavenly. I’ve never witnessed such beauty for our country’s birthday.

  The song playing now is by The Beatles, it’s Yellow Submarine, every bomb going off in the sky is yellow or gold. It’s strikingly beautiful. Each song played, the more the colors coordinate. When it’s drawing closer to the end, you can feel it. The crowd becomes more excited, more tense, more enthusiastic. Case stands and pulls me with him. Placing me directly in front of him, he wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me back so I’m leaning into him, my head resting below his chin.

  “This is my favorite part, sweetheart,” he whispers so close it tickles the tiny hairs on my ear. “The finale will leave you breathless.”

  I’m already feeling breathless and it’s not from the fireworks filling the sky.

  His scent envelops me. I’m surrounded in his strong arms, watching the most gorgeous display of fireworks I’ve ever witnessed, it’s then hundreds are let off at once, and Case was correct, it’s hard to catch your breath. The sky fills with hundreds upon hundreds of fireworks. So many it’s hard to choose where to look. Tears start streaming down my face from all the beauty I see and the company I’m with.

  This. This is what I’ve been flapping around trying to find again. This is my peace.

  As the last firework lights up the night sky, Case turns me around in his arms, gently places his hands on my chin, leans in, and places his lips on mine.

  It’s the sweetest, gentlest, most perfect first kiss ever.

  CASE

  Kissing her is like a dream come true. I’ve been longing to kiss her since the day I walked into the bookstore to hear her singing off key.

  I didn’t know what she looked like, but her voice hit me straight in the gut. Yes, even when it was off key and horrible. When she gave me attitude about the types of books I probably did and didn’t read, I knew I wanted her in my life. She was a feisty, untamed, hellcat. Albeit a sad one.

  Tonight, when she was telling off Moon, I wrongly assumed she needed rescuing. She didn’t, she had the stuck-up bitch in her place when I walked up to grab her. I should’ve known she’d hold her own. She’s getting stronger every day. I couldn’t resist kissing her anymore.

  The fireworks made it more special. Her lips are soft and perfect against mine. When she sighs, I take advantage and slip my tongue inside. Our tongues dual for a moment before I break the kiss. If I keep going, I’ll end up taking her to bed tonight. And we both know she’s not ready for the next step in our relationship.

  A kiss will have to do.

  TENLEY

  Over the next two days, Case takes me all over Austin, showing me the ins and outs of the city he calls home. Places a normal tourist wouldn’t see.

  It’s the most fun I’ve had since before that day.

  Not all of it can be because of the company, no, it’s the surroundings.

  This city.

  It feels as if I could start calling this city home. Like I could see myself settling down here and burrowing in.

  Domesticating.

  Previously, I haven’t given any thought about selling my home back in Alabama, but I have over the last few days. When I made the move back into my parents’ house, I decided to keep my home, but try and rent it out. At the time selling it felt wrong.

  Foreign. Erroneous. Immoral. Unethical.

  Whatever I call it, it simply didn’t feel accurate. Letting go of my house was like letting go of the last real piece of Michael I had left. Strangely these last couple of days with Case—not to mention the picture I’m carrying around in my purse—have both helped me see a house isn’t where Michael remains. He’s in my heart. And he’ll always be there.

  Yes, I’m still fighting with my demons. At moments, I still feel wrong spending time getting to know another man romantically, but I’m thinking about my future. It’s something Michael would’ve wanted me to do. He wouldn’t want me to sit inside my head anymore, driving myself crazy. This depression has been eating me alive and I’ve been letting it rule my life for too long.

  It’s way overdue; I’ve taken the reins to my own damn life.

  Another shocking thing to me is I haven’t been depending on the sleeping pills as much the last few days. I’ve cut down to a half a dose each night, surprisingly it’s been working. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing it without Dr. Beesley’s consent, but I don’t see her telling me not to take less of something. I didn’t stop completely or mess with my other medications. Besides, one of my main reasons for seeing her is to stop depending on the medications to get through my days and nights.

  This morning, I’m packing what remnants of mine lie around Case’s apartment. My suitcase is jammed packed, and I doubt it’ll fit another item. It’s a good thing I drove and have tons of free space in the trunk.

  I may have begged Case to take me back to Uncommon Objects yesterday.

  And I may have also went a tad crazy with the purchases.

  One thing I didn’t leave the store without? The card catalog cabinet. It’s call to me was too hard to resist, and I caved this time. I couldn’t help myself, it’s a great office piece. It’s set to be delivered to Alabama once I get back home. I’ll call them and have the delivery team sent to bring it to me.

  Or…

  If at the end of this long journey of finding myself again, I choose to move to Austin, I can call and have it delivered wherever I’d live here. I’ve already made a mental note to start checking the real estate in the area.

  A change in scenery may be exactly what I need to go on living.

  Saying goodbye to Case isn’t going to be a cake walk. I’m in over my head when it comes to this man, but I know I’ll be seeing him again…soon.

  Case took one gaze into my eyes and made the goodbye easy. He let me go without making it a huge deal, we left our relationship and goodbye…open. Not knowing when we’ll see each other again but knowing we will. He didn’t beg me not to leave, he knew I needed to. Our kisses stayed heated yet brief. He left me wanting more, but at the same time I felt fulfilled.

  I’ve decided to continue my journey west. My Lexus is using the horizon as a map, my GPS off, my destination unknown. At least for the next hour or two. My plan for today is to make it as far west as possible. Hopefully, I’ll be out of Texas by nightfall.

  I’m well on my way to the New Mexico border when a thought hits me. Gloria, who makes the beautiful book flowers, lives in the state. Maybe she’d be open
to meeting me? Talking with her may inspire me further. After all, if a box of pictures could inspire me, a living person should be able to do more. My mind is made up before I can give it another thought.

  I also need to call Dr. Beesley and let her know of my plans, not to mention my need to reschedule more appointments. I should probably call mama as well while I’m thinking of it.

  “Siri, call Dr. Beesley,” I voice command my phone. Hands free calling is the only way I’ll drive and talk.

  “Calling Dr. Beesley,” Siri’s robotic voice streams through my car’s speakers.

  Three rings later, Gabby finally answers the phone. “Dr. Miranda Beesley’s office, Gabby speaking, how may I help you?” Her pleasant voice fills the car’s blank space.

  “Hey, Gabby, it’s Tenley Grace, is Dr. Beesley available?”

  “Actually, a patient will be leaving in a minute if you’d like to hold?” she questions.

  “Sure, I’ll hold.”

  The music playing while on hold is atrocious. It’s completely awful. I wonder if they know how horrible it is? Mentally I make a note to complain about it. It’s a mix of rap and rock, at least I think it is. Whatever it is, isn’t music to me. Don’t get me wrong, I like all music. I’m a fan of all genres and have been to my share of concerts, including Jay Z, Eminem, and Kanye. Not to mention, Marilyn Manson. I know, I know, I don’t appear like the type.

  “This is Dr. Miranda Beesley, how may I help you?” Her soothing voice comes through the line.

  “Dr. Beesley, this is Tenley Grace. I’m calling to touch base and to reschedule a few appointments.”

  “It’s great to hear from you, Tenley. You’re not back in town?” she inquires.

  “Not exactly…it’s actually the main reason I’m calling. I’ve been doing extremely well on my trip, I’ve decided to take a few extra days and keep driving west. I’m currently on my way to New Mexico. I’ve never been, have you?” Why did I ask her such a thing? We don’t make small talk.