by Jo Noelle
Chapter 7
Jenna Brennan
I get up extra early. The sky is light enough to see easily, but the sun isn’t up yet. I slip into some comfy jeans and shoes and sneak down to Willow cottage. Cole has been so tight-lipped about the design of his project that I’m dying to see what it looks like. I’m seriously so confused by seeing the various items he’s chosen or made for it.
The doors are locked. As I approach the windows, I see that there’s still newspaper taped inside them. I thought it might have been there because he was painting, but now I think it’s going to stay to the end. It’s there so I can’t peek inside. I’m a little offended that he thinks I would.
It’s not like I’d steal his ideas—they’ve all looked dreadful.
After breakfast, we meet at his truck.
“It’s a Hood Canal oyster.” I stare at the foam sandwich-board costumes Cole slides behind the seats in the cab of his truck. When he makes no comment on them, I ask the obvious question. “Why?”
“We’re going to the Tehuya Day Celebration across the canal. Small town—big on celebrating. Have you been there before?” He beams a cheesy grin at me and continues packing the truck.
Man, that’s a sexy smile, but not a helpful answer. “No. That doesn’t tell me why we need to take them with us—or have them at all.” I hesitate, waiting for details. Nothing. So I ask, “How far is Tehuya?”
“Probably not even ten miles from here if you were a seagull, but we’ll drive almost fifty to get there. And they always celebrate the Fourth of July on the first Saturday. There are art booths, great food, homemade lemonade—you’ll love it.”
“You’re not going to tell me why you have costumes, are you? You’re always so secretive.” Cole shakes his head in answer, but a mischievous smile brightens his eyes, causing my stomach to cartwheel.
Never trust a man with a million-dollar smile and a thousand-dollar car. I mentally stomp Mom’s words into the dirt. That’s her issue, not mine. Everything Cole has and does is because he’s worked hard to make it happen. No one gave it to him.
We drive south and around the bottom edge of Hood Canal then back up the other side, across the bridge, and along the North Shore Road.
When we reach the town, we wander around the booths first. Now and again, Cole stops to take pictures of people or abstracts of the carnival ride machinery. What he hasn’t noticed yet is that I threw away my empty lemonade cup long ago and am now drinking his. He’s right—the lemonade is enough of a reason to make the trip today. I sip it slowly as we wait in line for face painting.
Watching Cole today, seeing the way we are together, I wonder how my mother ended up so completely clueless. If she had ever married her best friend, she might have been happy and stayed with him.
I wonder if I can stay with Cole. I’ve always avoided relationships while dating—the part where I’d have to put my heart out there and be emotionally vulnerable. Dating was for companionship and fun—that’s all. With Cole, the relationship came first. Excitement sizzles through me as I realize Cole might be the only person I can see myself really with, married to.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
When we reach the face-painting booth, I say, “He wants to be a kitty.” The teenager with the paintbrush looks at Cole to confirm that, but instead, he says, “She does too.”
After second lunch—which was necessary, since we ate hot dogs before we knew another booth was serving nachos—we walk back to the truck. Cole doesn’t unlock or open my door, but goes straight to his and retrieves the oyster costumes I’d forgotten about.
“Have you ever been in a parade?” he asks.
“No.”
“Here. Put this on.” He hands me an oyster.
I slide it over my shoulders and Velcro the sides. “Did you have to register for us to be in the parade?
“No. Anyone can join in.” He unrolls a banner that says Misty Harbor Cottages.
“You’re remarkably prepared for this.”
When he steps over to lock his truck doors, I notice the back of his costume says, “Shucking Champ” across his bum. I twist and pull the foam on the back of my costume to see the words “Shucking Runner-up” across mine. I pin him with a mock glare.
“I would have worn that one with appropriate humility had I lost, but I didn’t.” He shrugs with feigned nonchalance. “Buck up—it’s only four blocks of disgrace.”
“For all anyone knows, there were a thousand people in the contest, and second place is a great honor.”
His eyes practically twinkle, and in a teasing tone, he says, “Whatever helps you smile and walk.” Then he takes my hand as we go find the beginning of the route. We line up somewhere in the middle of the masses parading. Getting into the spirit, we walk, chase, can-can, and bunny hop our way down the route.
Cole remembers how to have fun. And the costume—that’s part of our winning and losing and contests. I lost—I wear the clam and rock it too.
My hand rests on top of Cole’s across the console in his truck as we drive back to the cottages, I’m almost convinced I could hold his hand for decades. Do I still want to leave? No.
A delivery van is parked at Walter’s front door when we pull in. As we approach, I can tell the boxes being unloaded are mine. Mom clearly marked winter clothes, books, etc. on each box. Ten boxes—everything else I’d left at her house is probably at Goodwill so she can sell the house. Home isn’t a place that held a lot of attachment since she’s only had this husband for two years. She’s about to set a record for herself.
“Your mom called this morning and told me you’re moving out after the summer, so she sent your stuff. It showed up this afternoon, and I put some of it in storage.” Walter points toward the shed on the other side of the driveway.
As Cole picks up a box, he says, “Well, you’re either really confident about winning, or hoping to stay on when I do.” Then he takes it into the house.
That would have been a better reason, and I wish I’d thought of it. The fact is, I blew it. I didn’t know I was going to fall for Cole or even have a chance to win Uncle Walter’s business and stay here when I took the Idaho job, so it’s not like I was planning to leave Cole on purpose. Still, I feel like a traitor. I let myself get close to Cole, knowing that I’d leave—at least to Idaho—like my mother.
I grab a box and head up the stairs. I don’t want to make eye contact with Cole on his way down, but I do. “Hey, I’ll get the rest of them. You can go.”
He’s obviously not listening because I meet him on the stairs again with his arms full. “Let me take that,” I say.
“I’ve got it.” Cole winks.
I should have told him about taking the other job at the end of the summer. It’s not like I came here thinking I would hurt him all over again. “No. Really. You can go.” My voice sounds rough as I reach out to take the box, but Cole doesn’t let go, pulling it to his chest.
“What’s your deal, Jenna? Is there something I don’t get?”
Why did my mom have to send my boxes to Washington now instead of to Idaho when I got there? Couldn’t she wait a month? She wants me out of her life. That betrayal stabs me in the gut. “I just don’t want your help with this.” I try to sound casual. I’m not going to confess that my plan was to move away and keep my heart intact. That means keeping it away from him. I’ve completely failed.
While I’m trying to think about what to say, he pushes past me and puts the box in my room, then spins to face me. I put my head down and place my hand over my eyes. Could this have been worse timing? Guilt wells up in my chest. Why didn’t I tell him?
Cole sounds doubtful when he asks, “You’re so confident about winning that you had your mom send all your stuff?” Like he’s hoping that’s what I’ll tell him.
I wish that had been the reason. Surprise must show on my face.
Distrust chills his eyes, and he asks, “When were you going to tell me you’re leaving?” He throws his h
ands up. “Why are you in the competition if you were always planning to move? Why keep up the charade?”
He waits for an answer, but I don’t know what to say or even what I think. “I’m part of the charade too. Right?” he asks.
My voice is stuck with the guilt I feel. Cole gives me a curt nod and turns away. A moment later, I hear the front door slam behind him.
I shrivel a little. Why am I leaving? Why don’t I know what to do with Cole and what I feel? I can’t move away from my fear that one day I’ll be her. Last year, I told myself not to come here because I didn’t want to hurt him with my inability to have a relationship. This year, I only came as a favor to Uncle Walter. I hope I’m staying, but if Cole doesn’t want me with him, I need a backup plan. I guess that’s still Idaho.
It’s not like we were together together, but it feels like a breakup, like I’ve lost him all over again. I slam my bedroom door behind me, alternately gulping air and holding my breath. My entire body shakes. Even if my mind doesn’t understand what losing Cole means to me, my heart obviously does.
He’s been accepting and obliging to me this whole summer. He could have held a grudge, refusing to take me back into his friendship, but he didn’t. He’s been genuine and fun. He gave me his trust. My heartbeat thuds in my chest, and I’m weak. What have I done? Slowly, I slump down the wall and wrap my arms around my knees. I brush the tears from my cheeks, but they’re suddenly wet again.
