THIRTY-TWO
Brooklyn gave Bowie some time alone with Carly, figuring he had a few things to get off his chest. Over the years, she had heard horror stories about moms who struggled as a single parent or dads finding out years later they had a child. Sure, she’d had her struggles, but they had been hers to deal with and overcome on her own. She had missed Austin. She had missed Bowie. Her heart couldn’t decide which of them deserved more of her longing. Each man was there for different reasons.
When she had found out she was pregnant, she had gone through a barrage of emotions all at once—scared, happy, sad, over the moon, and confused. She and Austin hadn’t been safe, and she had usually spent every month staring at the calendar, waiting for her period to start. They had been careless and had been together so long that either marriage was going to happen, or a child was bound to come at some point.
They had been fighting the last night she saw him. In fact, they had been fighting most days. Neither was happy with each other or their lives. Brooklyn wanted to move back to Seattle and had reminded Austin that his five-year plan was about to expire. He was supposed to take his fishing boat to Puget Sound while she attended nursing school. She had saved enough money to enroll, thanks to her job with Seacoast Construction. However, when she had brought it up one evening, he had told her he wasn’t going. It didn’t matter how much she pleaded; he refused to budge. Business was good for him, and he didn’t feel right asking Grady to move. Bowie had encouraged Brooklyn to go, to follow her dreams, but she wouldn’t leave Austin. Her whole world had revolved around him since high school, and she couldn’t imagine it without him, but Austin had other plans, ultimately leaving her no choice.
Brooklyn’s phone rang out. She pulled it out quickly and silenced it before the staff gave her scorning looks. When she saw Rennie’s name, she smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey you, just letting you know that I’ll be up in a couple of hours.”
“What? How?” Brooklyn stammered.
“Graham, by way of Bowie.”
“Oh.” Despite everything going on, her heart soared. He had thought enough to find a way to reach her best friend, knowing she would need her.
“Ren, Carly’s dying. She doesn’t have long.”
“I know, hon.”
“That’s not all . . .” Brooklyn paused. “Bowie is Brystol’s father.”
Nothing but silence.
“Say that again.”
“You heard me, Rennie.”
“How? I mean I know how, but how?”
“Carly suspected and had a DNA test run when Brystol was little and kept the results a secret until now.”
“And now she’s dying?”
Brooklyn sighed heavily. “She collapsed the morning after the bonfire and was brought to the hospital by ambulance. She has cancer. Stage four.”
“And you’re just now telling me!”
“Sorry, Ren, I’ve been sort of busy trying to piece my life back together after these two major explosions. God, I don’t even know what day it is right now. I need you, though, to look over her will.”
“I’ll be up after work to help you out. Now tell me, what are you going to do?”
“Be with Bowie, raise our daughter, and run the inn.” She said those words as Simone and Brystol came into view. Brystol would need everyone around her after her grandmother passed. Here, Brystol had everyone, including another set of grandparents, who were probably going to have heart attacks when Bowie informed them who she was. There was also Simone, who had helped raise Brystol since she was a baby. And Brooklyn’s own parents weren’t far from here and could come visit whenever they wanted. It made sense to stay.
“You’re going to stay!”
Brooklyn smiled. She would have her best friend close again, and that made her very happy. “I am. I’m going to stay. I’m going to work to revitalize the area, maybe buy some houses and turn them into rentals. Bowie and I could do some flips. I don’t know.”
“I’ll write your contracts for you,” Rennie said.
“I expect nothing less,” she said, laughing.
As for her career, she and Bowie could easily team up and start their own business. On the drive to the hospital, she had noticed numerous houses that had been abandoned. They could start flipping properties together, or she could retire and run the inn. The possibilities were endless. And the idea of finally putting down some roots, enrolling Brystol in school, where she could make some friends, outweighed everything else. She wanted to give her daughter the same experiences she’d had: homecoming, bonfires on the beach, prom, and a graduation with kids she’d known for longer than a few months. She wanted her daughter to grow into the teenager she was meant to be. She and Rennie hung up once she finally agreed that Rennie needed to be in Cape Harbor as soon as possible.
She went over to Simone and Brystol and sat across from them. “What are you ladies looking at?”
Brystol held up the newest issue of Better Homes & Gardens. Brooklyn blanched when she saw the cover, causing Brystol to laugh. Brooklyn had forgotten that she’d given them an interview. It was months ago when a photographer showed up and took photos of her in a kitchen she had recently finished.
“You look good, Mom.”
Brooklyn smiled. “Thanks, kiddo. How are my answers?”
“They’re the usual.” Brystol shrugged.
“I particularly like the tips,” Simone added. “I could’ve used these when I was repairing the kitchen.”
“You did an amazing job on the kitchen, Simi,” Brooklyn stated. “I’ve looked it over. I’ve checked the wiring. Everything is ready to go.”
However, Simone didn’t look convinced.
“Tell you what—I’ll have Bowie look too. We’ll make sure everything’s in working order before we open.” This seemed to placate Simone a bit.
Bowie came into the waiting room a few minutes later and met Brooklyn’s eyes. They weren’t on the same page yet but would be after spending some time together. Soon he would know exactly what she was thinking. She desperately wanted to feel his arms around her, to have him hug the both of them, but right now she had to take her daughter to say goodbye to her grandmother.
She and Brystol held hands as they walked toward Bowie. Brooklyn stopped and rested her free hand on his chest. He leaned into her, kissing her temple. “I’ll be outside with Luke,” he whispered.
Down the hall, mother and daughter walked toward Carly’s room. Brooklyn wanted Brystol to go at her own pace; she didn’t want to force her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with. Next to Carly’s bed sat a chair. Bowie had left it there for the next person to come in and say their goodbyes. In the corner, a pile of folded blankets had been placed on the floor, with a pillow resting on top. Simone was preparing to stay here so that Carly wouldn’t die alone.
“Can Nonnie hear me?”
“Yeah, she can. She may not be able to answer, but she can hear you.”
Brystol walked into the room and sat in the chair while Brooklyn went to the windowsill. She had sat there last night, waiting and wondering how she’d ended up here. It was all Carly and some master plan of hers to change their lives. She knew that now.
“Hi, Nonnie. I know you’re not feeling very well right now. Mom says you can hear me. I really hope she’s right. Grandpa told me once that you should always say goodbye, no matter where you’re going. I’m not the one leaving, but I guess the same applies. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, so I’m just going to tell you that you are the best grandma, and I have a lot of really fun memories. Like the time we tried to tie-dye shirts, and you spilled the color everywhere. Your backyard was a rainbow of colors until it rained. Or the time we went out during low tide to go clamming. I still don’t like clams that much, but that was fun. I know we didn’t get to spend a lot of time together, but coming here each summer was the most fun, with this one being the best because we got to stay home every day. You and Simi always had so many things for us to do
, like flying kites or sitting in the hammock reading. There was the time we went to dinner with my grandparents at the Space Needle. We started on one side of the city and ended up on the other. Do you remember laughing all night with my grandma? What about when you snorted?” Brystol had to stop and laugh. Brooklyn glanced at her daughter and saw that her head was down, resting on Carly’s leg. “I remember it so clearly.”
Two people appeared in the doorway, and Brooklyn sprang to her feet. She rushed to her parents, needing to feel their arms around her. “What’re you doing here?”
“Simone called us. We thought we’d come up and help with Brystol, and anything else you needed.”
“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said, breathing them in. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call. My mind is reeling right now. Rennie’s on her way too. I need her to look over Carly’s will.”
“We understand,” her mother said.
She pulled away, only to be replaced by Brystol. She yammered on about everything that had been happening since she saw them last, and filled her grandparents in about Luke, telling them that she was begging her mother for a dog now.
“Dad, you remember Bowie, right?”
“Of course, I do,” David Hewett said gruffly.
“He’s in the waiting room.” Brooklyn gave her parents a knowing look. They knew all too well about their daughters’ feelings toward Bowie, and later tonight, she would fill them in on her surprising revelation.
Brystol finally disengaged from her grandparents and brought her grandma into the room. She let her grandma sit next to Carly, and she stood by her side. Brooklyn gave her father a kiss on the cheek and asked him to please go visit Bowie, telling him she would be out in a bit. She stood at the end of the bed and watched Carly struggle in her sleep. “She’s in and out of consciousness. They have her on morphine for the pain. The nurses feel it won’t be long. They’re not expecting her to make it through the night.”
Bonnie Hewett pulled her granddaughter down on her lap and held her as she whispered to Brystol, telling her how sorry she was. As much as she wanted to remain strong, Brooklyn felt tears wet her cheeks. Her mom reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“We’ll get you through this, my little Bs.”
Brooklyn wiped away the stream of tears with her free hand. “She has a list of things I’m supposed to do, but I still feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. I hate waiting, and I don’t even know what I’m waiting for. She’s just there, and in pain, and I can’t do anything to help her.”
“The staff here is doing everything they can for her, sweetie. Your father is very confident in their ability, and you know he’s here if you have any concerns.”
“I just don’t like seeing her in pain.”
“I know. Why don’t you go out to the waiting room, round up your dad, and go get something to eat downstairs? Little B and I are going to sit here and visit with Carly. If something changes, we’ll come and get you.” Brooklyn went to her mom, leaned over, and hugged her from behind. Her mom kissed her cheek and told her that she loved her.
In the waiting room, Bowie and her father were arguing over football. It was something that they had done every time they saw each other. Bowie was a die-hard Seahawks fan, while her father thought they were lime-green chickens. Her father was born and raised in San Francisco and would always be a Niners fan, something that Bowie loved to give David shit about.
Watching her father kid around with the man who Brooklyn knew was her future gave her hope, and right now she needed a lot of that hope to get through everything she was facing.
She went outside, needing a break from everything the hospital represented. The smells, the background noises, the uncomfortable chairs—it all meant waiting, and in her case waiting meant dying. The double door opened as she approached. She passed a man who carried a bouquet of flowers and balloons. A quick glance and she figured his wife had just had a baby boy. Her mom and dad, Carly, and Rennie had been the only ones at the hospital when she’d had Brystol, and they too had brought her flowers. She couldn’t remember if she’d had balloons in her room or not.
There was a bench not far from the double doors. She sat down on the wooden slats, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Even with the light breeze and overhead cloud cover, the sun was in perfect position to keep her warm. She let her mind drift, not to the past, but to the future. A future that finally included Bowie and them together. Before, when she had dreamed of what life could’ve been like if she had stayed, he had been there, but never fully. Austin’s death had always kept them apart, and she knew why. Carly. Out of fear of what she would think, Brooklyn had hidden her feelings, and now knowing that she didn’t have to hurt. She cried for the years they’d lost. Not only together but as a family.
Someone sat down beside her. She shifted slightly so the stranger couldn’t see her red puffy eyes and ask her if she was okay. She was afraid to answer a question like that. Was she okay? In a sense, maybe. She had a healthy child and a great job, and for the most part she was happy. Deep down she knew she’d be happier with Bowie, that Brystol would thrive in Cape Harbor, and she would as well. Her parents and Rennie would be close enough they could see each other whenever they wanted, but Carly and her deathbed confession lingered like a bad aftertaste.
The person beside her cleared their throat. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Grady sitting there. She shifted and looked at his disheveled state. The Grady she remembered, the one with boyish charm, a sweet baby face, and a crooked smile was gone and replaced with despair, anger, and age. The long-term alcohol abuse had aged him at least twenty years. He no longer looked like Graham’s twin but a distant relative.
“Grady.” She said his name softly. He turned and glared. His menacing stare had her turning away. Her stomach twisted, and her flight sense kicked in. She set her hand down on the metal armrest and prepared to stand. His hand clamped down on her wrist, holding her in place.
“You don’t get to walk away again.”
“Grady . . .”
“Don’t, don’t say my name.”
She looked at him again and saw years of sadness built up. She searched his eyes for some inkling that the Grady Chamberlain she grew up with was in there but found nothing. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? For being a whore?”
“It’s not—”
“Shut up!” he said loudly. “You don’t get to be sorry for anything. What you did to Austin.” He paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. “He fucking loved you.”
She shook her head as tears fell.
“If you think the town is going to accept you and Bowie as a couple, you’re mistaken. I’ll tell anyone who listens what you did to Austin the night he died. I will ruin the both of you.”
“You’re the town drunk, Grady. No one is going to believe you.” She ripped her hand from his grip. The damage was done, though; there was no way she could stay now. She stood and turned her back to him and took a few steps before turning around to say more to him, to tell him how wrong he was and what Austin had said to her. How they didn’t have the picture-perfect romance they had led everyone to believe. Grady was gone. Disappeared into thin air.
The double doors opened. The people coming out were laughing, something she couldn’t do. Not now. She took her phone out and sent a message to Bowie asking him to come outside. She wasn’t going to prolong the inevitable, not anymore. She had wasted too much of her life avoiding conflict.
Within a minute, Bowie walked out the door. He smiled as he came toward her, but it quickly faded. “What’s wrong?” He clasped his hand with hers and held on tightly as she tried to pull away. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, wiping away her tears. What she was going to do would break his heart, again. And shatter hers.
“Remember that job I told you about, the one that starts in October?”
He nodded.
“I’m going to take it. We can work out some custody arrangement with Brystol. I’ll
send her here on vacations and whatnot. She’s homeschooled, and it’s all online. She works well independently, so she can come for longer periods at a time.”
“No,” was all he said.
She worked hard to keep her emotions in check. “It’s for the best. I shouldn’t have come back here. Grady . . .” She trailed off.
“Was he here?”
She nodded and bit her lower lip to keep her tears at bay.
“Fucking Grady,” he muttered. He said nothing else as he pulled her to her SUV. He opened the door and motioned for her to get in. “Don’t worry about Brystol; she’s fine. Get in.”
She did, and when he slid behind the steering wheel, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“My place. Luke needs to eat.”
Brooklyn glanced over her shoulder at his dog. He seemed content, with his head hanging out the window.
“I shouldn’t leave Carly.”
“Someone will call us if we are needed.”
She didn’t feel like arguing. She leaned her head back and watched the scenery go by. The almost thirty-minute trip seemed to fly by rather quickly. When they pulled into Bowie’s driveway, he shut off the car and got out. She stayed and stared out the window at his house. It was small with the perfect-for-summer covered porch. Those were her favorite, especially in the houses down south. There was nothing like sipping sweet tea and watching the lightning bugs at night while swaying back and forth.
Bowie and Luke disappeared into the cornflower-blue house, leaving her to wonder what was behind the door. Curiosity got the best of her as she finally got out of the car. The cobblestone walk was done with meticulous precision. She knew Bowie had put a lot of time and effort into his home. The thought gave her pride. They were the same, wanting the same, yet she couldn’t deliver on her end. Not without living with guilt.
She climbed the three steps up to the porch and walked to the door, pushing it open slightly. “Hello?” she called out foolishly.
“In here,” he said, forcing her to follow his voice. She found Bowie standing in his room without his shirt on and soft music playing in the background. He’d set her up, knowing she wouldn’t stay in the car.
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