Love Me for Me

by Jenny Hale

  “Libby!” her mother’s voice tore through the moment. She was pacing along the sidewalk in short, clipped strides, Jeanie barreling along beside her. “I didn’t think I’d find you in this crowd!” she said from too far away.

  “You found us!” Libby said, pulling away from all the thoughts that were slamming the inside of her head. She was thinking about Charlotte’s little curls and what having children there would be like. She was thinking about Pop and how nice it was to see him lucid. She was thinking about Helen’s face as she watched them dancing. But most of all, she was thinking about Pete, his hand still in hers, that contemplative look in his eyes, the way her heart hurt at the idea of leaving. It was all making her head pound with anxiety.

  “Good grief!” Jeanie said, slightly out of breath. “Your mama’d have us walkin’ the length of the county lookin’ if we hadn’t found you.” Then, as if just now noticing them, their close proximity, the way Pete had moved his arm around her waist almost protectively, she said, “Where are ya’ll headed?” her eyes darting between the two of them as if she wanted to know more than just the answer to her question.

  “We were just taking a walk,” Pete said.

  “Lordy, don’t let him near the shore. We know what happened last time,” Jeanie teased.

  Pete rolled his eyes. “Libby already made that joke, thank you very much.” The corners of his mouth twitched as he attempted to hide his amusement.

  “Why don’t y’all take your walk? We’ll go find somewhere to sit,” Jeanie said. “I’m dyin’ to unload this bag.” She squinted toward the beach. “Hugh end up comin’?”

  “Yep,” Libby said. “They’re all here.” And as she said the words, her heart was full. Never before, and probably never again, would everyone be together like that.

  She and Pete walked silently through the crowd. Every person there had their own view of that night, but Libby’s was one of reflection. Jeanie’s words kept coming to mind: Not everyone wants to leave this town. There’s a lot of good here, you know. Some people like it enough to spend their whole lives here. She finally understood what Jeanie had meant.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Libby marveled at the changes she’d made to the cottage as she tidied the last few things in the bathroom. The For Sale sign was in the yard, and at least four cars had driven slowly by. Things were looking good. Summer’s arrival had brought warmer air and the first of the season’s tourists, making it the perfect time to sell. She secretly hoped that a family would buy it to give Thomas and Matthew more children to play with. Would they all pile onto Pete’s swing like she had done at Catherine’s house so many years ago?

  Since her time there was limited, she’d woken early, and decided to take a swim and enjoy the beach while she still could. Grabbing her towel and her beach bag, she padded out of the cottage and down the lawn toward the sand.

  She’d eaten her breakfast on the porch, watching the sun in all its orange glory peeking over the edge of the bay little by little until it was suspended in the air. By the time she cleared her breakfast dishes, the purple sky was bright blue, and the orange sun had burned away to a golden color. She stepped onto the sand that was already warm and dropped her things.

  The morning wind was blowing very softly, causing the water to seep onto the shore, crawling along it like spilled milk. She put her toes in. The cool of it was a perfect complement to the record high temperatures. Libby waded in a little at a time until she was waist deep, taking care not to get too close to the rocks at the shore. They liked to hide on the bottom, and they were very unpleasant to find with one’s feet. She lay on her back and moved her arms along the surface, the sun warming her face, until she could barely touch. The only sound was the movement of water beneath her body and the wind in her ears.

  So much had changed in the short time she’d been there. She kept thinking about it. The town had a way of romanticizing life. But she had to be levelheaded. That’s what her mother always taught her, it was what had gotten her to where she was, and it was what would keep her going. Success came from hard work, and she had spent a whole lot of her life working hard for her future. She had been given a second chance in New York. It would be ridiculous not to take it.

  There was definitely something there with Pete as well, an easy relationship. She didn’t have to try with him; she just understood him in a way that she didn’t seem to understand anyone else. They shared the same opinions most of the time, and what made him laugh made her laugh too. Libby worried for Pop and his family—they’d been through so much with Nana’s recent passing and now with Pop’s problems. She would have loved to be able to be there for them. For Pete. In another time, another place, things could have been different for them.

  She’d miss Jeanie. Thinking of her made Libby smile as she turned over onto her stomach and pushed herself under the water. She moved her arms and legs in the strokes she’d been taught so many years ago, making her way out into the gray-blue of the bay. Jeanie was someone with whom she’d always had a connection, but it wasn’t until adulthood that she realized how lovely a person Jeanie really was. The way she treated everyone as if she’d known them for years, the way she cared for people, bringing them dinners, stopping by.

  She’d miss her mom as well. She thought about how her mother was alone most of the time. She wished that she could fill some of those empty hours for her mother, especially as she aged. She’d have to visit more, have her come to New York more. Libby came up for air, turned back toward the shore, and went under again.

  All the people in town she’d been with these past months—Marty, Catherine, Mabel, Esther, Leanne—they all had a place in her life, and she felt as though she were leaving them too. But there was no other way to do it.

  She reached the shore—her head still a jumble of emotions, despite her effort to sort everything out—and pulled the towel from her bag, wiping herself dry. She’d said goodbye to everyone at the bonfire except for two people. This time, her mother was taking her to the airport, and she wasn’t going to peek in on Pete through his window. She’d already planned to say a proper goodbye.

  The bonfire was still on her mind. They’d danced, roasted hotdogs, talked, and enjoyed themselves until the fire had died down and Charlotte was beginning to get fussy. It was only due to necessity that they’d all packed up. They could have gone on like that all night.

  Pete had driven her home, and, sitting in his car, she’d struggled to find the right words before getting out. She wanted to say something to convey how much she thought of his efforts in taking care of Pop, and how glad she was that he’d forgiven her after so many years. She wanted to tell him how much she cared for him and how she never wanted to lose touch again. But instead she’d said only, “Thank you,” because if she tried to say the rest, the tears would come, and she knew she couldn’t go there. Not that night.

  As she dried off, she took in a deep breath of fresh air to calm herself. When she’d first come to that beach, she’d been battling sadness, and now, when leaving it, she still was. This time, though, it couldn’t be fixed with a new job or a plane ride. This sadness was formed by people and family and a charming place that she’d miss very much. She went inside to get dressed so she could see Pete one last time.

  * * *

  Libby opened the door to the cottage to find Pete leaning against his Bronco out front with that crooked grin on his face and a bunch of wildflowers in his hand. The wildflowers made her happy because they were so unexpected, so full of life, each one with its own personality. Some of them drooped over his hand while others were tall, their blooms bursting from the center of the bouquet. He’d picked them, she could tell. The stems were wrapped in a little brown paper at the bottom to keep them together.

  “For you,” he said as she came closer.

  She took in the sweet smell of the flowers as he handed them to her. “Thank you,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to think about the fact that the entire cottage had been packe
d as quickly as she’d unpacked it, and that she didn’t even have a glass to put the flowers in. She probably couldn’t take them on the plane, so she’d have to leave them there, like everything else. When she climbed into the bronco, she set them on the seat beside her. Pete shut her door for her and then went around to the other side and climbed in.

  “I know you don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted to show you something.”

  They drove for a few minutes until the cottages gave way to woods, and the street narrowed into one lane. Pete turned onto a dirt road, the truck bouncing beneath them, causing her flowers to rustle. Libby held on to the door handle for support. Finally, they came to a stop in the woods. Something about that place was very familiar. Even though it was nothing but a patch of trees, there were memories lurking there, she could feel them.

  “Where are we?” she asked when he opened her door.

  “It looks different now than when we were here last. The paths are overgrown.” He took her hand to help her out of the car. “Watch your step,” he said, pointing out a large limb, probably knocked down during a storm.

  As they walked through the woods, the memory of it was coming back in cloudy bits. The night hadn’t been anything special, she remembered. It had just been a normal night. They spent most of their childhood outside, and when they’d gotten older and started dating seriously, that didn’t change. One night, Pete had taken her there because it was quiet, and, like most teenagers, they liked being out of the sight of their elders. She did remember that path…

  Pete took her hand again and led her down the path that was so full of underbrush it was barely recognizable from the path they’d taken as kids. She was glad she’d slipped on her sneakers today. The branches and leaves had nearly covered the path, and Libby wondered how Pete even knew where he was going. She looked over at him. He was clearly focused, determined on getting wherever it was. Even though it just looked like woods to her, it must not to him.

  Not too far down from that, there was a clearing that overlooked the water at a distance. She remembered that clearing. But, in the clearing, there was something new. Sitting all by itself was a rustic bench made from the trunks of trees, the bark still intact. Libby walked over to it and ran her hand along the back of it. Then, with a tiny gasp, she turned her head sideways to read the inscription on the center tree trunk on the back of the bench. There was a heart carved, and inside it read “Pete & Libby.” She’d never seen anything more beautiful. The imperfections of it gave it so much character. The sight of it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Do you remember when we carved that on the tree?” he asked, walking up behind her.

  She did remember. It was evening and the woods were aglow with lightning bugs. It was after he carved those words in the tree that he turned to Libby and kissed her for the very first time. From that moment on they were inseparable.

  “I come here sometimes to be alone,” he said.

  “Whose land is this?” she sniffled, blinking the tears away as she stood beside him, her emotions overwhelming her suddenly.

  “Pop’s. He’s owned it for as long as I can remember.”

  “When did you make this?” She patted the seat of the bench.

  “A little while after you left.” He turned to her and smiled. “I don’t have a memory box. This is it for me.”

  The breeze blew in through the trees, making the leaves crackle. Libby thought about that first kiss they’d had so many years ago and how happy it had made her. As she looked at him standing in front of her now, she still felt the same way about him. Never before and never since had anyone made her that happy. He was her puzzle piece. He was The One. This time, she didn’t try and talk herself out of the feelings. She didn’t push them away.

  She took a step toward him, the brush snapping beneath her feet, and she grabbed his pockets and pulled him to her. He looked down at her, his brows furrowing in confusion. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, pushing herself onto her tiptoes. His face was only inches from hers, his eyes unblinking, his expression still. Her heart was beating so wildly that she was sure he could feel it against his chest. She couldn’t believe she’d pushed away her feelings for so long.

  Libby closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. She could taste his salty, sunburned lips, feel the softness of them against hers, the scratch of stubble making contact with her skin. She ran her nails lightly through the short hair at his hairline and down his neck, as she recalled what it felt like to drag her fingertips along his bare chest. His spicy scent mixed with the lotion he always wore to keep the sun off him—it made her lightheaded. There was nothing better than this feeling. She wanted to have it forever and never give it up. They fit perfectly together. All the overthinking and rationalizing she’d done meant nothing in this moment because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the person she wanted to be with.

  Then, just as a plate shatters the minute it hits a tile floor—it was that fast—crash, he pulled away from her, her thoughts like pieces of pottery scattering out in broken bits.

  He turned toward the woods for a moment before facing her as she scrambled to pull herself together, to make sense of what was happening. Pete’s face was serious, preoccupied. The sound of the bay barely made its way through the trees. She hadn’t noticed it before. It was the only sound between them as she waited for an explanation even though she didn’t want to hear it.

  She watched his face, suddenly realizing how overconfident she’d been. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had dried out as she waited the excruciatingly long time that it took him to offer a reason for not kissing her back. She’d been so busy thinking about what she wanted, that she didn’t consider what he wanted. Or didn’t want.

  “Libby, I’m worried that you’ve misunderstood why I’ve brought you here. I wanted to show you this bench to let you know how much I value what we had together, the memories we made so long ago. They’ve stayed with me.”

  He took a step closer but maintained enough distance to unnerve her. She didn’t want to be that far away from him anymore. She wanted to hold on to him, have his arms around her. She could feel the ache in her throat and the distress moving through her body like a heat wave.

  “I understand that, for whatever reason, New York is where you need to be, just like I need to be here.” Libby took in a slow, conscious breath to keep herself together. Her breath wanted to come in uneven heaves but she wouldn’t allow it. “I’m happy you came back,” he said. “It gave us a chance to set things straight. Now I can say goodbye with no hard feelings, and I’m glad for that.”

  She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to say goodbye. Her chest felt icy, hollow, as if she couldn’t get a breath without falling over into a coughing fit. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She was so confused by what she knew now that she wanted. It wasn’t what her mother had always said she’d want. It was so much better. But she couldn’t have it. Pete didn’t want her to stay. She’d blown it, again. She wanted to let herself cry, to plead with him, but she knew better than to do that. He didn’t want her.

  Suddenly, the things that she’d worked so hard to achieve all came tumbling down around her as she realized that she’d put them all above everyone else in her life. She felt silly now, small. Did she really think she could just waltz in and throw her arms around Pete and expect him to fall at her feet? He had his own life now, and it didn’t include her. End of story. She didn’t know how to live with that. How could she go on with her daily life knowing that he was The One, and she’d ruined it?

  How could she think that she could reject everything about the choices he was making in life, and then come back and expect him to want her on her terms? She was starting to realize the audaciousness of that kiss, and the more she thought about it, the more she grasped how arrogant she’d been. No wonder he didn’t want her. What she’d done just now—practically throwing herself at him with no regard to his wishes—was almost worse than the
way she’d left in the first place. She felt an angry throb well up behind her eyes as the mortification set in.

  She watched him for a reaction but there were no tears hiding in his eyes, no contemplation anymore. He’d made his choice. He wasn’t waiting around. Maybe he never was. All of the troubles she’d had recently didn’t even compare to this. This hurt. It hurt more than anything she’d experienced.

  The wind and the engine were the only sounds between them as they drove back to the cottage. If she dared to speak, she’d lose it and make a spectacle of herself. Instead, she looked straight ahead, watching the possibilities trail behind them with the scenery outside. She was leaving this life behind, and there was no turning back now. Libby thought about Pete’s words the rest of the way home.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Libby’s new apartment was nice. The living area was about as spacious as she could get for a one-bedroom in the city, the galley kitchen was just enough for her to move around, and the bedroom was dark at night and bright in the morning. She could hear the sound of traffic on the street below. To others, it may be an annoyance, but to her it had always been exhilarating. She hoped that the exhilarating feeling would return soon because she didn’t feel it just yet.

  Already her calendar was filling up for the week. She’d spent the last few days unpacking her things, decorating the new space, and trying unsuccessfully to clear her head. She kept replaying the events in her mind from that day at the bench in the woods, trying to find some way not to blame herself, but in the end, she kept coming back to the fact that Pete’s rejection was all her fault. She’d never considered what he wanted, and now he wanted a life that didn’t include her. Every time she thought about it, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to crawl into bed and stay there—cry into her pillow and never get back out.