The Seacrest

by Aaron Lazar

  I pulled her closer. “I’m telling you the truth. He was jealous of us. Green with envy because we had such a good thing going. He wanted to mess that up. And I guess…I guess he did.” My voice cracked on the last few words and I let her hands drop.

  She turned her back to me, facing the sea with arms folded. “I don’t believe it.”

  Angrier now, I clenched my fists. “Believe it. And now you know why you broke my heart, Libby. You dumped me for nothing. All I did was love you. I worshipped you. And you never even asked me if it was true. Never gave me a chance for rebuttal. You just believed my stupid brother.”

  “I…” She turned back to me, contrition written on her face. “I…I guess I should have asked you. I was just so hurt. So confused. Jax told me you played the virgin act with all the girls when I told him it was your first time with me.”

  “What?” I spat the words. “You were my first, Libby. I was a virgin when I met you.”

  She paled. “I…I’m so sorry. Jax actually laughed in my face, said you’d been at this game for a long time. When he pointed out all the pregnant girls to me, I believed him. I thought you’d duped me. And then I got whisked off to school, and not long afterward, you had that horrible fire. I wanted to contact you then, but I felt scared. Still mad at you, but afraid. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t face you.”

  The fury began to melt, to slip away. I realized in that moment, that the brother I’d hated for killing my parent and sister, for stealing and killing my wife, had also stolen the only real love I’d ever had. I dropped into the chair and gazed out over the ocean. White caps frothed on wave peaks, and the water near the shore glistened lime green today. Further out, it simmered dark indigo.

  I sighed. “I can’t believe he did that to us.”

  She pulled a chair next to me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “My God, Finn. I was so hurt for so many years. For nothing! Your lying brother! He was vicious. Horrid. The bastard!”

  “I know. He killed my parents and Eva, Cora, and now I find out he screwed up the only true love I ever had.”

  She was sobbing now, so full of emotion and relief and so tortured sounding that I had to hold her.

  She wept against my chest, stuttered her words. “I’m…so sorry. I…didn’t…trust you.”

  In a flash, the venom and bitterness of the past sixteen years simply vanished from her eyes.

  “I loved you so much, Libby. I think I still—”

  She backed away, sat on the side of the chaise lounge, wiping her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her pocket. “We were just kids, Finn.” She leaned over and squeezed my hand. “A lot of time has passed. We both have since been married and lost our spouses. You just lost Cora. We’re vulnerable, the two of us. Don’t say anything you’ll regret.”

  I stood and drew her up against me.

  She didn’t resist.

  “I’m not waiting one more day to tell you how I feel. I loved you then. I still do. I never stopped. Even when I married Cora, it was all like going through the motions. It was expected of me. And I really wanted a family. You were gone. I tried for years to contact you, and you didn’t let me. Cora was just…she was there.”

  “But at least she loved you in the beginning, didn’t she?”

  I pulled her closer and she laid her head against my chest again.

  “I honestly don’t know, I whispered.” I tilted her chin up, moved my mouth to hers, covering it with gentle pressure, sinking deeply into her with such impulsive need I couldn’t think, breathe, or reason.

  She kissed me back at first, but suddenly jerked back like she did earlier, throwing both hands in the air. “We can’t do this. It’s too soon.” She sat down again and huddled over her knees. “I…I need to process all this. It’s just…”

  I stood quietly, watching her. “I know. All this time. I never knew why you hated me. It’s so…nuts. And if I let myself, I’ll get so furious at my stupid, rotten brother, I’ll explode.” I wanted to slam something, pound my fists into a wall, kick down the whole damned summerhouse. “I wish I could kill him.” I gulped. “But he’s already…” My words choked again.

  “Come on. Let’s walk,” she said, offering a hand. “Down on the beach.”

  For the first time since Cora’s death, I faced how deeply I still loved Libby. I’d squashed the feelings for years, but they’d seethed beneath the surface, always lingering, always present. I’d been unable to change them, and I’d dutifully ignored the feelings while married to Cora. Like a good husband should. Like a cuckolded man would. Like the fool I was.

  Fuck.

  Now Cora was gone, and she’d betrayed me for over a year. Maybe longer. The hell with Cora. I didn’t owe her a damned thing.

  Libby was here. Warm. Alive. Maddening. Infuriating, sometimes. But she was here now.

  I took her hand and walked with her toward the sea.

  Chapter 34

  Labor Day, 1997

  10:30 P.M.

  I sat in the loft, waiting for Libby.

  Where the hell is she?

  I leaned out the loft window, scanning The Seacrest grounds. It was dark outside, but moonlight limned the shrubs and white granite plant holders overflowing with geraniums near the front porch, creating an eerie landscape. A sea breeze blew tree limbs and rustled the leaves, swaying branches overhead.

  I scanned the grounds, checking her side of the house again. Her bedroom light was on.

  I’d been in there only once—the day her father was hospitalized for his heart and had to stay overnight to be monitored. She’d needed me more than ever that night, and I’d climbed the trellis and entered her pink frilly sanctum, burrowing under the blankets with her. We made love all night long.

  It had been a close call the next morning when Fritzi arrived to begin her daily routine at six and I still lay spooned with Libby in her down-filled bed. She’d distracted the woman sufficiently to allow me to sneak down the back stairs and out the kitchen door.

  I watched and waited. The front door opened, spilling light onto the lawn. Two couples in evening dress chatted with Rudy and Libby on the porch, bid their goodbyes, and ambled to their respective vehicles. A Mercedes and a BMW flashed past in the gaps between trees where the main drive curved away toward the grand entrance gate.

  Libby stood on tiptoes to kiss her father’s cheek goodnight, and within another half hour, the downstairs lights winked off.

  Finally. She’ll be here soon.

  Another long half hour, and with unsuppressed joy, I heard her light footfalls on the barn floor. I ran to the ladder to greet her, but was met with a scowl.

  She stood at the base of the ladder with her hands on her hips, wearing a pink summery nightgown. Her eyes steamed anger. She hissed a whisper. “Get down here.”

  Alarmed, I hurried backwards down the ladder. “Libby? What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t talk here. We’re going to the beach.”

  I didn’t know what I had done to deserve such treatment, but like a contrite puppy, I followed her over the dunes. She ran fast, legs and hair flying, but I kept up with her and finally pulled up beside her when we reached the surf. I took her arm to slow her, but she pulled away.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Libby! Come on. It’s our last night together. What’s gotten into you?”

  She caught her breath, leaning forward with both hands on her knees, then straightened and glowered at me. “You. You’re what’s wrong.”

  “Why? What did I do?” My heart beat rapidly now, tossing around ideas but coming up with nothing. I hadn’t been late. Matter of fact, she usually was the one who was late. I hadn’t forgotten the condoms lately, not once. I’d brought her little trinkets I bought at the sidewalk sales. She’d loved them. Last night I brought her a book of poems. It had been a hit.

  So, what now? What the hell was going on?

  She pushed my chest with both hands. “You’re a prick!”

  Anger rose within me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”

  She sneered at me. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?”

  I wondered if she was going insane, for her fury was beyond control and I didn’t understand one word she spat at me.

  “You’re a pig! A liar! A disloyal freak who can’t control himself!”

  I took her arms and made her face me. “I need you to tell me what the hell you’re talking about. You’re not making any sense.”

  With a huge effort, she dragged back from me and started to run toward The Seacrest. She stopped at the end of the jetty, and turned. “We are over! And don’t try to contact me again. I’m leaving for Switzerland in the morning.” Sobbing bitterly, she screamed the last few words. “I hate you, Finn McGraw!”

  I stood in the surf, confusion and hurt raging through me. The night air felt cool, but an uncomfortable heat spread through me, starting with my face and traveling through to my heart. I shook my head, trying to dispel the memories of what she’d said, but I couldn’t stop them ringing in my brain.

  I stripped off my tee shirt and entered the sea, jogging into the warm water, trying to stop the tears that threatened. I dove beneath the waves, stroking hard toward the moon that hung on the horizon.

  Swim. Just swim.

  I moved along the shoreline, staying about 100 feet from shore, slicing the water with my arms and traveling fast through the waves.

  No. No. NO!

  She hadn’t said all those hurtful things. She couldn’t have. I must be in a nightmare. Maybe I’ll wake up in bed, my arms beating the air instead of the waves.

  I stopped and floated on my back. But all I could think of was the time we’d made love in the water, how sweet it had been, how we’d loved each other so deeply and with such passion.

  Sassy.

  Libby.

  My girl. My love. My life.

  How could she leave me? What horrible thing did she think I’d done?

  The water moved me gently up and down as waves washed to the shore. I floated, in agony, trying to get control of myself. I couldn’t show up at home in such a state. Jax would have a field day.

  Think.

  I stroked back toward shore.

  I had it!

  I’d write her a letter tomorrow, slip it under her front door before she left for school. I’d tell her I had no idea what she was talking about, that she must be mistaken about something. Tell her to let me know what she thought I’d done.

  I needed a chance to defend myself against whatever the hell it was she had in her head.

  With that decided, I reached the shore, dried off as best I could with my shirt, and headed around The Seacrest property to find my bike. In wet shorts and with gritty sand in my sneakers, I pedaled home.

  Chapter 35

  July 20th, 2013

  2:30 P.M.

  Libby started to run when we got to the beach. She kicked off her sandals and raced along the wet sand, arms churning, legs flying, hair streaming behind her.

  I followed her lead, feeling my muscles respond as they hadn’t in many years. I let loose and ran like hell, stirring sand and making good progress catching up with her.

  We must have covered a mile-and-a-half before she stopped, sobbing, gulping, and wheezing.

  I dropped to the sand, breathing hard. “I hate him! I goddamn hate his lying guts. He ruined us, Libby.”

  She plopped beside me, still crying so hard she began to hiccup and I feared she might not have enough breath in her to survive the violent heaving. “I thought…you…you played me, Finn.”

  I flopped to my back, my arms and legs outstretched. Raw emotions coursed through me, filling me again with anger and a desire to hurt something. Someone. Anything. “I should have known. I should have guessed he talked to you. Screwed it up for us.”

  Her crying slowed now, reduced to weak jerks and shudders. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, finally quiet enough to speak a few words. “Jax was a goddamned son of a bitch.”

  I turned toward her. “I know. He ruined us. My God. He totally destroyed what we had.”

  She lay back beside me. “Sixteen years.”

  I sighed. “It’s unbelievable.”

  “I married Ian because you hurt me so badly, I never thought I’d recover. It was sort of like you and Cora. He was there. He wooed me. He seemed to love me.” She shuddered. “And then he started to beat me.”

  I lay back again and reached for her hand. She let me take it, and I laced my fingers with hers. “I would have killed Ian, Libby. If I’d only known.”

  “You must have wondered why I got those black eyes and broken bones.”

  I sighed again. “I did. But you were so sure of yourself. So detailed about how you fell off your horse, or how she kicked you, or mashed you against the fence. I really believed you.”

  “I got pretty good at making up stories to go with the bruises.”

  “I guess you did.” I squeezed her hand again. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “I know.” She started to cry again.

  “Can we fix this?” I asked.

  She gained a bit more control of herself, then rolled toward me. “I don’t think we can, Finn. I’m a changed woman. I’m seriously broken inside.”

  I searched her eyes. “I understand. I felt the same way. I pretty much drifted through life after you dumped me.”

  “Me, too. I felt like I was playacting after that. Nothing really touched me inside. I felt isolated from the real world. My emotions were flat, they felt unreal. Except when I saw you. Then I saw red. I hated you, Finn. I actually hated you.”

  I grimaced. “I could tell. And I managed to pretend to live like a normal guy. The whole time I had to suppress my feelings for you. When your father offered me and Cora our jobs at The Seacrest, I didn’t know if I could stand it. It was easier to forget you when I didn’t see you every day.”

  “I didn’t want him to hire you. I tried to stop it.”

  “I know. He told me.” I traced a finger along her cheek. “He said to be extra special polite and nice to you so I wouldn’t lose my job.”

  “I couldn’t tell him what I thought was true. About those poor girls!” Her eyes widened. “Those poor girls…that Jax knocked up.”

  “My father lectured us so much about safe sex. I still can’t believe Jax didn’t buy it. He had drawers full of condoms.”

  “I remember the ones you stole,” she smiled a little this time, her eyes focusing on a faraway memory. “Rainbow colors.”

  “Yeah. We were really lucky, though. It could have happened to us. There were quite a few times we didn’t wait...we couldn’t wait.”

  She locked eyes with me. “I have to tell you. Those times…”

  “I know. Best times of my life, Libby.”

  “It never was the same way with Ian. Or anyone. And I tried. I really tried.”

  “Me, too. Nothing ever came close.”

  She sat up, wistful now. “Do you think we could be friends now? I mean, real friends?”

  I leaned over to hug her. “Libby. I’ll be whatever you want me to be. Friends. Or more, if and when you’re ready.”

  She looked nervous again, that same frightened way she was earlier. “I don’t know. I think I’ve been irrevocably damaged, like I said. I feel like I’m ruined for anyone now.”

  I kissed her cheek. “Time heals all things. You need time to get all this straight in your head. To stop hating me, right? And when you’re ready…you just give me the word. I love you, Lib.”

  Her eyes watered up again, but she couldn’t speak. She nodded, and got up. I walked with her up the beach and back toward The Seacrest.

  Chapter 36

  Thanksgiving, 1997

  2:30 P.M.

  The meal had been delicious. As usual, my mother made a feast fit for kings, in spite of the fact that she was eight months pregnant. Gramps had come up for the occasion, and we’d even invited a few of my parents’ friends from town. Th
e kitchen smelled of turkey and pumpkin pie, cranberries and spices. In spite of my heavy heart because of my continued failed attempts to contact Libby, I made sure to smile and nod and seem happy. I couldn’t ruin the holiday for my family.

  After we’d helped clean up, I drifted away from the adults and opened the box of letters I hid under the loose closet floorboard in my bedroom. Ten envelopes, marked airmail, addressed to Elizabeth Vanderhorn. Ten “return to sender” notices marked in her careful penmanship near the crossed-out address in Switzerland.

  I spread them out on the floor, touching the marks where she’d written the words. It was all I had of her now. My heart hitched and I drew a long, deep breath, expelling it slowly.

  Someone came in the door and I jumped.

  Jax! Crap. I had to hide them or he’d have fodder to tease me for years.

  “It’s okay, Finn. It’s just me.” Gramps sat on my bed and stretched his arms over his head. “Boy. Am I stuffed. Your mother’s a treasure in that kitchen.”

  I stared at him, wanting to tell him my troubles, but not knowing where to start. The envelopes slipped from my fingers, spilling onto the floorboards.

  “Wanna talk about it, bud?”

  He’d always been able to read my mind. At this point, it didn’t shock me anymore.

  “Am I that obvious?” I asked, shuffling the letters into one big pile.

  “No. I just know you better than most folks, boy.” He reached out a hand to help me up. “What’s going on? You seem pretty down.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “You did a good job hiding it. Unless someone was really intuitive, they wouldn’t have guessed. Does it have to do with Sassy?”

  “Libby,” I said. “That’s her real name.”

  “I see.” He patted the bed. “Sit. Tell me everything.”

  I brought the letters to the bed and showed him. “She hates me.”

  He chuckled. “What did you do?”

  I bristled. “Nothing!”

  “Seriously?” he asked.

  “Seriously. Somehow she thinks I did something awful, though. And I can’t even get her to let me defend myself. I wrote her all these letters…”