by Jewel E. Ann
My gaze goes to the red hat on Mr. Hans’s head and the black hat on Gabe’s head. Morgan is a beautiful, incredibly generous young lady. And I’m going to miss her so very much.
“Thanks for everything.” Nate hugs Mr. Hans. “Enjoy the rest of your summer, buddy.” He gives Gabe a hug. “I hope you have a great soccer season. I’m going to miss you.” He squeezes him tightly. My heart feels it.
Then … things get really uncomfortable. The air in the room becomes thick and suffocating. All eyes fall to us. It’s time for Nate to hug me goodbye.
I just need it to be done. My strength is crumbing. “Safe travels,” I say.
Nice and generic.
Detached.
Unemotional.
Friendly.
I hug him, but just as his arms start to go around my waist, I step back and plaster on a smile while looking at Morgan because … I will need to be put back together from a million pieces if I look at Nate now.
Morgan and Gabe make nothing of the awkward hug or the lack of eye contact, but Mr. Hans looks pained.
Pained for me.
Pained for Nate.
Maybe even a bit of his own pain. He knows what it’s like to be separated from the one you love.
As they open the door to leave, I head back up the stairs, holding my breath and every emotion causing pandemonium in my chest. At the last second, I glance over my shoulder just as Nate looks up a few seconds before the door closes.
After Gabe goes to bed, I take a long bath, pressing a cold washcloth to my swollen eyes. Then I pour a glass of wine a few minutes before midnight and sneak back up to my room without waking Mr. Hans. With my lights off, I crack open my curtains a few inches. The light of the moon hits Nate’s balcony like a spotlight.
I narrow my eyes. He’s sitting on the floor of the balcony with his back against the door, knees bent with an arm resting on each knee and … he brings something to his mouth. He’s smoking. It can’t be a cigarette. I know he doesn’t smoke. So it has to be pot. A tiny laugh escapes me. Nathaniel Hunt is an incredible dad, and I’m sure a brilliant professor, but he’s also so incredibly human with a hidden vulnerability.
Me and my full glass of red wine take a seat on my bed, legs crisscrossed, and no judgment whatsoever toward Nate and his joint. If anything, I might feel a little envy.
I thought I was bad at goodbyes. He’s worse.
After our last time together, I prided myself and him on our level of maturity, making the right decision, knowing better than to drag it out any further. Yet, here we are … drinking and smoking. Not talking. Not saying a proper goodbye.
We sit in silent misery for two hours. I’m not even sure he’s still awake until he finally climbs to his feet, stares at my window for a few more seconds, turns, and goes back inside. Without turning to lie on my pillow or crawl under my covers, I collapse onto my side next to my empty wine glass and close my eyes.
The next morning I wake when I hear something outside. Sitting up, I rub my eyes and look out the window. The sun is just barely lighting the sky. Nate and Morgan load luggage into their rental car. Nate closes the trunk and glances up at my bedroom window. I step back behind the curtain, so he doesn’t see me. Reality has settled into its usual full-body numbness. It’s instinctual to protect the heart from exploding into a dust of nothingness. The pain will set in over time. I’m very experienced with pain.
I stiffen as footsteps tap the wood stairs to my balcony. Pressing my back to the wall on the other side of the door, I hold completely still.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I hold my breath because it’s loud and labored at the moment.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Gracelyn, please open the door.”
I scrape my teeth along my bottom lip over and over again.
“Please …” his voice breaks.
Something behind my ribs starts to break too.
“That wasn’t a goodbye … last night. It was awful. I don’t want to get on the plane with that goodbye. But … I have to go, so please just open the door.”
There is no good to this goodbye. It’s a bad bye. He’s right … it’s awful. Opening that door will not make it better. It just won’t.
“Fine …” Something thunks against the glass door. Sounds like his forehead. “There’s not enough time left to say everything that needs to be said. And Morgan is waiting in the car. So …”
I wait.
And wait.
Then I hear footsteps retreating.
So? SO?
My heart pounds my chest like a hard, angry fist. Every breath feels insufficient. He took the oxygen and left me with a long so …
Pressing my hands to my chest to keep my heart from breaking out, I squeeze my eyes shut, but all I see is him …
Nate carrying me and my sprained ankle off the beach.
Nate grinning at me shoving lingerie into my pocket.
Nate playing with the kids on the beach, chasing Morgan like a monster.
Nate stealing that first kiss behind the counter.
The second kiss …
Every smile.
Every touch.
Every whisper.
“Nate …” his name rips from my throat.
In nothing but gray boy-shorts and a white and pink heart patterned tank top, I swing open the door and run down the stairs and toward his car. He stops with his back to me a few feet before the trunk of the backed-in rental car. He’s wearing jeans and a black rain jacket, a good choice with the rumbling sky.
I open my mouth, but the only thing that comes out are loud breaths. I squint as the sky starts to spit drops of rain. My shaky hand finds the clasp to my bracelet, and I remove it, keeping it fisted in my right hand.
Still … he doesn’t face me.
“I was embarrassed …” I find my voice. “And I don’t know why, because it’s a necessary job that a lot of people would never do, but I shouldn’t have cut your hair. I should have told you the truth. And none of this matters because in a few hours you’ll be hundreds of miles away from here. I won’t tell you goodbye because I can’t. Even though I know this is the right thing, it doesn’t feel good right now. You can’t leave me with a simple so. You have to finish what you were going to say.”
My feet pad across the wet ground until I’m standing behind him. I won’t make him face me, but I need to hear his words as the rain gets heavier and thunder rumbles in the not too far distance.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Nathaniel
“If you’re ever in Wisconsin …” I say. It’s not what I was going to say ten seconds earlier. From her door to here, I let reason sink in, and it’s telling me nothing good will come of telling her what I wanted to say.
“I love you too,” she says.
“Fuck …” I whisper, turning slowly.
She’s soaked, arms hanging limp at her sides. As my gaze makes its way down her drenched body, it stops at her naked wrist. Her fisted hand slowly opens and the gold bracelet falls to the ground. Gracelyn doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look down like it was an accident.
I know there’s a hundred percent chance that Morgan’s turned around, watching us. I know she’ll have a million questions the second I get in the car. And I know I won’t have a clue how to answer half of them.
Still, my hands go straight to Gracelyn’s head, my fingers threading through her wet hair as I kiss her. It’s not the kind of kiss you give someone in front of your ten-year-old daughter.
It’s the kind of kiss you give someone when you love them, and you know this might be the last time you ever kiss them.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes the other person stumble backward and grab hold of your wrists to keep from falling.
It’s the kind of kiss that sustains past the point of reason, to the point of your lungs burning … until the last possible second to leave before missing your flight.
“So much …” I rest my forehead against hers as the rain hits in unrelenti
ng sheets. “I love you so much.”
Gracelyn pulls back an inch at a time until our bodies no longer touch. The rain begins to blur her face as she retreats …
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
The bracelet slides past my feet with a gush of water. It’s going to end up in the storm drain. She just keeps taking steps backward. When I can’t bring myself to turn and leave, she does. She turns and walks with no sense of urgency to her balcony stairs. Right when she gets to the top, she looks over her shoulder.
It’s exactly what I need to turn and climb into the car.
“Dad …” Morgan says my name, eyes wide, as I start the car and pull out of the driveway. “You love Gracelyn. I saw the kiss. Dad it was … wow!”
I run a hand through my wet hair, keeping my eyes on the road. “I do. I love Gracelyn … but I love you more.”
*
We arrive in Madison by dinner.
We find a house in less than a week.
We pay cash for it and move in the following week.
We go school shopping.
We take flowers to Jenna’s grave.
We invite all our family over for a housewarming party.
We go to Morgan’s back-to-school night, and I feel completely unprepared. I have to remind myself how to get to the school and what grade she’s in.
“I hope we have all the right supplies,” Morgan says as I follow her through the maze of hallways. She wants to find the room on her own, open her locker on her own, ask her teacher questions on her own. I think my only job is carrying the bag of supplies.
“Right here. Room twenty-five. Mrs. Calloway.” She goes into the room filled with kids while I follow her, giving the name on the door an extended glance.
“She’s pretty,” Morgan whispers and points to the other side of the room where the blond-haired teacher smiles and nods to the group of students and parents huddled around her.
Funny story …
I hired a nanny for Morgan shortly after she was born. Her name was Swayze Samuels. She was fifteen years younger than me. And she knew things about me that happened before she was born. Personal things. Things only my best friend, Morgan Daisy Gallagher, knew. However, my best friend died when we were kids … before Swayze Samuels was born. The most life-changing year of my life has been and always will be the year Swayze Samuels was Morgan’s nanny. It was the year I discovered my nanny had a part of my best friend’s soul woven into hers. She had memories she couldn’t place, but I knew.
Reincarnation. Transcendence. Rebirth.
I still don’t know exactly how to explain it. I just know that I believe.
The first half of the book I’ve written is about that year—the year I discovered something you have to experience to truly believe.
My point?
Well, in spite of the one kiss that happened between us, she belonged to another man. She married that man—Griffin Calloway. Morgan was the flower girl at their wedding.
Mrs. Griffin Calloway is Morgan’s teacher—her first and only nanny.
“Right?” Morgan nudges me.
“Sorry. What did you say?”
She sighs. “I said my teacher is really pretty. Don’t you think?”
I grin, unable to take my eyes off her. “Yes. She’s beautiful.”
Mrs. Calloway—Swayze—glances up. She just … stares for several seconds before the biggest grin takes over her face, and she shoulders her way through the small crowd, heading straight toward me.
Fuck …
If she cries, I’m going to—
Too late.
She blinks and several tears run down her face two seconds before she throws her arms around my neck. “I couldn’t believe it,” she whispers next to my ear, keeping a death grip around my neck. “When I saw the name Morgan Hunt, I just … was too afraid to hope it was true.”
“Missed you,” I whisper past the lump in my throat.
She pulls away and looks at Morgan, who closes her hanging jaw when realization hits her. She’s seen all the post cards of Swayze and her family.
“Oh my gosh … you’re her.”
Swayze nods. “Can I hug you?”
Morgan smiles. “I like hugs.”
And just like that … eight years vanish. Two of my favorite girls have been reunited. Everything should feel right in the world, but it’s not. It’s close, though, and close might be as good as it gets for me.
Swayze shows Morgan around the classroom and her desk. She helps her unpack her supplies—something I’m not allowed to do—and she introduces her to some of her classmates. I’m sure Swayze will love every one of her students, but I know she will have a favorite, and I kind of love it. I love that my daughter’s first experience in public school will be under the watchful eye of the woman who I trusted most with my tiny baby ten years ago.
Again … fate’s not perfect, but at this moment it feels close.
“Let’s let Sway—” I catch myself. “Mrs. Calloway spend some time with the other parents and students.” I rest my hand on Morgan’s shoulder and smile at Swayze.
“Okay. I’m so excited for Monday!” Morgan can barely contain her emotions.
“Me too.” Swayze winks at her. Then she points at me, eyes narrowed. “Dinner tomorrow. I won’t take no for an answer. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Oh! Can I come?”
I tug on Morgan’s ponytail. “Not tomorrow. Grown-up time tomorrow. Kids another time.”
“Yes, absolutely. I can’t wait for you to meet my girls.”
“Well, you have my number. I had to fill out a million forms with my number on it.”
Swayze laughs. “I do. I’ll text you later after I inform my grease monkey that he’s on dad duty tomorrow night.”
“Sounds good. Goodnight.”
Swayze gives me a tiny smile and head shake before sighing and whispering, “Professor Hunt … in the flesh.”
I take a chapter from Morgan’s book and roll my eyes before turning and following Morgan out of the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Gracelyn
I get my first letter from Morgan a week after she starts school. Gabe gets one too. His is longer. I’m envious of his long letter, and he’s envious of my short one. Go figure …
Dear Gracelyn,
We have a house—an actual home. I don’t have to mark off days until we move again, and Dad put a tire swing in the backyard. I said I wanted a pool, but supposedly there are too many trees. He’s thinking a tree house instead. I guess he and his best friend, Daisy, had one when they were young, but it wasn’t on their property. He wants it to be where he can “keep an eye on me.” Some things never change.
My teacher is Mrs. Calloway. She was my nanny after I was born. My dad tried to explain that she has part of Daisy’s soul inside of her that gives her some of Daisy’s memories. He said she made him a believer in reincarnation. I like that. Wouldn’t it be really cool if one of my friends turned out to be my mom reincarnated? I hope it’s not Candace. She’s not nice. It’s been one week, and she’s already had to go to the principal’s office twice. Eleanor, goes by Elle, is my best friend right now, but it’s early. Dad said to just be cool and get to know all of my classmates, except for the boys. He said I should stay away from the boys. I have my eye on Able right now because he sits next to me at lunch since his last name is Iqbal and we sit in ABC order. How crazy is that? When I told Dad, he said, “Welcome to the herd.”
That’s all I’ve got for now. You should write me back and tell me if Gabe’s been in trouble at school yet because I know he won’t tell me. Also, make sure to follow me on TikTok and IG. I’ve been posting lots of pictures and videos with my new friends. Of course, they have actual phones that don’t require Wi-Fi to work.
Hug Mr. Hans for me.
Sincerely,
Morgan Hunt
The nanny. Reincarnation. Her teacher.
My hea
d spins to the point of making me dizzy. I didn’t look up Morgan on social media right away because I needed a minute. I needed to grieve.
Now my curiosity has been thoroughly piqued, especially since I have not heard one word from Nate. Granted, I haven’t reached out to him either. Grabbing my phone from my nightstand, I walk back out into the living room and sit next to Gabe again as he finishes his letter from Morgan.
“I’m going to follow her on social media.”
He tosses his letter aside—I assume after finishing it. “I wouldn’t. It’s all just a bunch of weird girls dancing and a few of her dad putting up a swing in the backyard. Oh … and a million pictures in her stories of her teacher. That’s really weird.” He grabs the remote and turns on the TV.
“Did you finish your homework yet?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Well, did you read for twenty minutes?”
“I read Morgan’s letter.”
I laugh. “Doesn’t count. Get your reading done and then you can play games.”
He tosses the remote next to Morgan’s letter and stands. “You sound like …” he doesn’t finish.
“Your mom?”
He turns and blinks a few times—nothing emotional, just a blank look followed by a single nod.
I smirk. “Good. Must mean I’m doing it right.”
After he shuts his bedroom door, probably to do shit on his phone instead of reading what he’s supposed to be reading, I request to follow Morgan on social media. Within seconds, she approves my requests and I can see her posts.
Gabe was right. There are a lot of dancing videos with a bunch of girls I’ve never seen. I stop on the photos of Nate putting up the tire swing. It looks like a beautiful wooded lot they have. The polar opposite of this beach house. I like the ocean view, but after living in Idaho for so many years, I became a bit partial to lots of trees.
I scan through the people following her, curious to see if Nate has an account because I know he would be following her if he did. I don’t see an account for him. Then I click on her story and a picture of her and her teacher together on the playground with the hashtag #bestteacherever.
