The Sea of Lost Things

by Kelly St-Laurent

  “Always,” I say with a grin.

  We get out of bed, and I head downstairs to the bathroom to retrieve my clothes and run a brush through my tangled hair. When I join Jonah in the kitchen, he’s changed into track pants and a t-shirt. Even in his casual appearance he takes the breath from my lungs.

  It’s not just the lines of him, the body I’ve come to find as familiar as my own. The connection between us has gone so much deeper than physical, beyond anything I could have foreseen.

  I came to France looking for my past.

  I never expected to find my future.

  “Do you like olives?” Jonah asks, oblivious of my pondering.

  “Love them.”

  He goes to the pantry and pulls out a jar. “I’m going to make us some pasta.”

  “That’s perfect.” I walk over and touch my hand to his back. “What can I do to help?”

  “You,” he says, kissing me quickly, “can pick the music and pour some wine.”

  I’ve never been much of a cook, preferring convenience over substance. With Jonah, though, I love being in the kitchen. And seemingly, through osmosis, I’ve managed to learn a thing or two about flavor.

  “It’s needs more salt,” I tell him fifteen minutes later, tasting the sauce we’ve made from scratch. “And maybe something sweet.”

  “There’s honey in the pantry.”

  I go to get it when I hear a knock on the barn door. Glancing at Jonah, I see my confusion mirrored on his face. He throws the dishtowel onto the island and walks over to the door, opening it.

  At first, I can’t see who it is, but when Jonah returns to the kitchen, his father follows behind him. When Steve sees me, there’s a look in his eye, something eerily similar to the one Jane had when she caught Jonah and me together.

  “Hi, Charlotte,” he says, the expression remaining.

  I force a smile on my lips, an uneasy feeling taking root.

  “I need to talk to you,” Steve says to his son.

  Jonah goes over to the stove and lowers the heat. “What’s up?”

  Steve doesn’t reply immediately, his scrutiny going from me to Jonah. “Perhaps it’s better if we speak alone.”

  “I can go,” I say, hearing the severity in Steve’s tone.

  “No,” Jonah tells me. “You don’t have to go anywhere. What’s going on, Dad?”

  Steve’s forehead creases. “You know what this is about.”

  I look at Jonah, whose gaze is fixed on his father’s.

  “Does she know?” Steve asks.

  My apprehension amplifies.

  “Dad,” Jonah presses. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  Steve scoffs, a spark of anger I’ve never seen in him before. “I’m so disappointed in you.”

  Though I have no idea what’s going on, everything in Steve’s demeanor has me anxious.

  “She does not deserve this,” Steve says.

  Much to my unease, his gaze flickers over to me. “What’s going on?” I ask Jonah.

  He barely looks at me, instead giving his full attention to his father. “You have no right interfering in this. It’s my life.”

  “Your life,” Steve says, discouraged. “And what a bloody mess you’re making of it.”

  If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m somehow involved in whatever this is, I’d leave them to talk this out privately.

  “We can discuss this later,” Jonah says, his voice edged with anger.

  “No, son, we can’t.” Steve’s eyes bore into Jonah. “Because she’s here.”

  Jonah’s expression turns severe. “You called her here?”

  “She showed up fifteen minutes ago. She’s pretty upset.”

  The pit in my stomach doubles in size. “Jonah, what’s going on?”

  He finally looks at me, but only briefly. “Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath.

  “Jonah,” I urge. “What the hell is going on?”

  For a moment, no one says anything. The three of us stand in the kitchen, the tension radiating between us.

  “You need to tell her,” Steve says, breaking the silence.

  “Tell me what?” I glare at Jonah, waiting for an answer, any fucking answer that will explain what is happening.

  The barn door opens, and we all turn to see Jane walk in. “What’s taking so long?” she asks, and then stops when she sees me. Her expression shifts sharply to her son, her disappointment clear. “Catriona is here.”

  “I’ll be there in a second,” he says.

  My mouth goes dry. Why is Catriona here?

  “You’ll go now,” Jane tells him. “Because she’s your fiancée, and she needs you.”

  At first, I think I’ve misheard. There’s no way she just said the word fiancée. But when I look at Jonah, and see the regret in his eyes, I feel the ground disappear beneath my feet.

  “Charlotte,” he says cautiously, reaching for me.

  I recoil from his touch. “You’re engaged?”

  “Let me explain.”

  The world around me blurs from view as my anger comes into focus. “You’re engaged?!”

  “Just let me explain.” He moves closer and I back away.

  “Don’t touch me,” I warn. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  “Okay,” he says, lifting his hands.

  I look at Jane and Steve, their gazes sympathetic. “You said she was only a friend.” I direct my statement to Jonah. “I asked, and you said she was only a friend!”

  He flinches at my anger, and then turns it on his parents. “This had nothing to do with you!”

  “She deserved to know the truth,” Jane says, glaring at him.

  “You had no right. No fucking right!”

  “Don’t use that tone with your mother,” Steve yells. “This is your mess, Jonah.”

  Jane takes a step toward her son. “I warned you, and you didn’t listen. You don’t toy with people like this. I expected more from you.”

  “Really, Mum? Did you? Because from where I sit, it seems both you and Dad haven’t expected much of me for quite some time.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I watch the argument play out in front of me, my stomach twisting in knots.

  “How long?” I ask, and they all stop to look at me. “How long have you been engaged?”

  Jonah hesitates, glancing down at the floor.

  “How long?” I demand.

  “Six months,” Jane answers for him. “They’ve been engaged for six months.”

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  “Jonah?”

  Her voice comes from the door. The delicate way she speaks his name is like a bullet through my chest. I stare at her, taking in her ethereal beauty. The long, dark wavy hair, pale skin like porcelain. She looks upon the scene with confusion, her green eyes burdened. She’s been crying. I all at once feel responsible.

  She walks into the room, her slender frame bent slightly, as though she carries the world on her shoulders. When she looks at Jonah, she bursts into tears.

  I watch, frozen in my anguish as Jonah rushes over, protectively wrapping his arms around her. Those very arms, that less than an hour ago, were holding me.

  I’m on the verge of falling apart. I have to get out of here. I have to leave.

  With my hands shaking, I move around the island, everything in my peripheral hazy. The only thing clear is the exit, and I walk briskly toward it.

  “Charlotte!” Jonah calls after me, but I don’t dare turn around. “Wait!”

  I step outside, inhaling as much breath as my lungs will allow. My tears come with the exhale. I’m halfway down the path when I hear Jane cry out Steve’s name. Stopping in my tracks, I turn back toward the door, and see Jane rushing to her husband’s side. He’s slumped down on the floor, a hand clutched to his chest.

  Jonah moves quickly, helping to catch his dad from falling to the ground.

  “Steve?” Jane asks desperately. “What’s going on?”

  “Call the
ambulance,” Jonah tells Catriona. “My phone’s on the bench.”

  My emotions are suspended as I watch Steve struggle to breathe. I’ve seen this before. “Get him to the sofa,” I say as evenly as I can, knowing how important it is to keep him calm.

  The three of us carefully help him over and sit him down.

  “Are you allergic to aspirin?” I ask him. He shakes his head. “Get some.” I direct my command to Jonah.

  He runs to the bathroom, returning with a bottle. “Does he need water?”

  “No.” I take the bottle and tip a pill out onto my palm. “Chew this,” I tell Steve, putting it into his mouth. “And then swallow it.”

  “Are you sure?” Jonah asks.

  “Yes.” I don’t look at him as I reply. “I’ve been through this with my grandpa.” Careful to give him enough space, I crouch in front of Steve. “You’re going to be okay,” I say calmly.

  Catriona comes over, her concern etched across her face. “The ambulance is on its way.”

  The ten minutes it takes them to get there feels like a lifetime. When they arrive, there’s a relief in the air as the paramedics take over.

  “He’s had 300mg of aspirin,” I tell one of them.

  She nods in reply as she and her colleague begin their assessment. When they have him stable, they move him to a gurney and wheel him out of the barn, Jane going with them.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Jonah tells his mom.

  “You’re not driving,” Catriona insists. “I’ll take you.” She reaches out and touches his arm. “He’s going to be okay, Jonah.”

  They move to leave, but I stay where I stand. It’s not my place to go with them.

  It’s no longer my place to be here at all.

  Jonah stops in the doorway and looks at me, his expression pained. There are a thousand words on his lips, but he speaks only two of them.

  “I’m sorry.”

  When he walks away, he takes everything with him. I stand alone in the barn, my adrenaline giving way to anguish. The quiet that follows is numbing, halting everything like a caesura.

  A total silence of sound. The world stopped, waiting for the music to resume.

  It doesn’t.

  The song was over long ago.

  25

  I spend the night sitting in the parlor with Francois, awaiting news from the hospital. The TV in the corner is on, and I stare at the screen, taking none of it in. The tea he made me sits cold on the coffee table. I haven’t touched it since he brought it to me half an hour ago.

  When the phone in the foyer rings, we both jump. Francois gets up from the sofa to answer it. I mute the TV and listen, unable to decipher anything from the one-sided conversation.

  He returns not long after, some of the stress gone from his brow. “Steve is in a stable condition. Jonah said he’s...” Francois stops himself. “They’re running some tests, and they’re going to wait there for the results.”

  “That’s good,” I say, trying and failing to smile.

  “Are you warm enough, my dear?” he asks, sitting next to me.

  I rearrange the blanket over my lap. “I am, thanks.” His fussing over me hasn’t gone unnoticed. It also hasn’t been unwelcome. As difficult as tonight has been, it’s nice not to have to be alone. “Do you think Steve will be okay?” I ask, worried. “I heard Jane say that something like this happened last year.”

  Francois sighs in thought. “We humans are not good at accepting the inevitability of our aging. It’s not an easy thing to admit that we cannot keep our youthful bodies, no matter how hard we try.”

  “Jane asked Jonah to move here to help,” I say, recalling the conversation. “She’d mentioned Steve’s illness, but I didn’t realize how bad it was.”

  “I think Jane wants Jonah here for his wellbeing, as much as Steve’s.”

  He doesn’t clarify what he means by that, and I don’t press, my thoughts going to darker places.

  “Did you ever meet her?” I ask. “Catriona?”

  Francois looks at me, his expression cautious. “Once. She came to stay for a few nights last year.”

  The hollow pit in my stomach deepens. “Did you know they were engaged?”

  “No.”

  At the root of my heartbreak, a new feeling emerges. “Jane and Steve must think I’m ... god, I can’t actually bear to imagine what they think of me.”

  Francois hums dismissively. “I happen to know for a fact that they both adore you.”

  “That’s a very kind lie.”

  “It’s true. I understand now why she was sad when she said it to me, but the other night Jane told me that she saw the way Jonah was around you. How he smiled. She said she hadn’t seen him smile like that since he lost his brother.”

  I can’t hide the pain his words cause.

  “I’m sorry, my dear. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  We both stare at the TV. The muted conversation plays out on screen as my mind runs through what happened, the confusion and chaos. Jonah’s betrayal. I can’t wrap my head around it. Everything had been perfect. Only hours ago, we were making plans for the future.

  How did we end up here?

  “I told you I was a veterinarian, right?” Francois looks at me, a slight unease in his expression.

  I realize that I’ve been chewing on my nails like a fiend. Dropping my hands to my lap, I clutch my fingers and nod.

  “Would you like to hear about the time I helped capture a lion escaped from the zoo?”

  “You captured a lion?” I ask, uncertain if he’s toying with me.

  “His name was Minou. I was working in a town close to Tours, and I got a call from a very worried zoo owner.”

  I listen to his story, grateful for the distraction. At some point near the end, I close my eyes, my exhaustion prevailing. When I wake hours later, Francois is no longer there.

  But Jonah is.

  “Sorry,” he whispers, crouching before me.

  For the briefest of moments, I forget everything that’s happened and smile at the sight of him. The memories come flooding back, though, bringing the pain with them. I quickly sit up, putting space between us.

  “How’s your dad?” I ask, my thoughts struggling to focus.

  “He’s stable.” His eyes are heavy with fatigue, and when he looks at me, sorrow. “The doctor said it was as good as can be expected for a heart attack. They want to keep him in for some more tests.”

  “That’s good.” My voice is hollow.

  “Charlotte.” He takes a seat on the table opposite. “I can’t imagine what you’re thinking.”

  “No,” I tell him curtly. “I can hardly do that myself.”

  He drops his head in his hands and exhales deeply. “I want to tell you everything,” he says, lifting his gaze to me. “But I need to talk to Catriona first.”

  I don’t understand any of it. “Why?”

  “Because this isn’t just about you and me.”

  His words bring me no comfort. “You lied,” I tell him. “You said you’d never hurt me like Joel did.”

  “I am not Joel.”

  “And yet here I am, in the same situation.”

  “You’re not.” He moves closer. “Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” The words are bitter on my lips. “You don’t get to ask that of me. Not now. Not ever.”

  “Please, Charlotte.” He reaches for my hands, but I pull them away. I try so hard to hold on to my anger, not wanting to feel the pain that’s driving it. “I love you,” he says, his voice breaking.

  The shattered pieces of my heart fragment. “You don’t do this to someone you love.”

  His phone starts to ring. He pulls it out of his pocket and puts it on the table without answering it. I see Catriona’s name light up the screen.

  “Don’t you need to take that?” I ask coldly.

  He sighs with fatigue. “I’m supposed to go back to the hospital with some of Dad’s things.” />
  “Then you should go.”

  He looks at me, his brows pulled together. “I’m so afraid that if I walk out that door, you’re not going to be here when I get back.”

  I have nothing to offer, so I stay silent.

  “Please,” he begs. “Just give me a couple of hours, and I’ll come back and we can talk about everything.”

  I bite back my tears. The pain is too much, but I know if I don’t say yes, he won’t go. And I need him to leave. “Fine,” I say, my stomach in knots. “I’ll wait.”

  “Thank you.” He breathes with relief, standing from the table and looking at me, hesitating. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

  At the door, he stops, opening his mouth to say something. And then, as though realizing there’s nothing to be said, he closes it again and leaves. I wait until I hear the car pull out of the driveway before I let the tears fall, relinquishing control, my sobs filling the room.

  My anguish twists at what has become of us. The trust we had only hours ago is gone, leaving an unimaginable emptiness in its wake. There are only lies between us now, even in the last words I spoke to him. Because when he comes back, I won’t be here.

  * * *

  It’s not yet six in the morning when I bring my bags down to the foyer. I place the letter for Steve and Jane on the side table. It’s brief, but conveys my apology, my thanks for their kindness, as well as my intention to pay for the full stay, regardless of my early departure.

  I move quietly to the door when I notice the light on in the parlor. My heart skips a beat, worried that it may be Jonah. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair, and see Matilda walking towards me.

  “I had a feeling you’d be leaving,” she says solemnly.

  “What are you doing up so early?”

  “We’re going to Mont-Saint-Michel, and Mum and Dad want an early start.” My heart constricts at the mention of the place. “Are you going back to America?”

  I nod. “I have a flight out this evening.”

  She purses her lips in thought. “You didn’t ask him then?”

  It takes me a moment to understand what she means. My chest tightens. “Turns out he already had someone.”

  She frowns and takes a tentative step, hesitates, and then continues, throwing her arms around me. “I’ll miss you.”