by Sara Ella
When the clock nears midnight, Hope’s dad gives her a hug and waves good-bye to the rest of us. She watches him go, then sneaks upstairs to her room instead of rejoining her own party. I catch Jake’s eye and she nods for me to follow my friend.
When I reach her door, a new kind of music begins to play.
Hope’s lamenting sobs trigger a memory.
There’s so much I want to say, but what would any of it matter right now? Hope’s mom didn’t come when that was all she wanted. The only birthday present she cared to find waiting at the door.
I retreat to my room and retrieve the thin, palm-size silver gift box tied with white ribbon. I grab the paper heart I’ve kept taped to my wall since the day I returned to Fathoms. Permanent marker in hand, I cover both the heart and the box, writing over the penciled lie of “nothing” Hope has believed about herself.
Worthy.
Valued.
Loved.
Twelve.
Friend.
Someone.
Something.
Everything.
The words cover every inch. Front and back. Top and bottom. I write until there’s no more room. I make my final statement in the form of a favorite quote. This is what Hope would do for me. Now it’s my turn.
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.”
I add a few flourishes, then slip the heart beneath her door, followed by the now-graffitied box.
I press my ear against the wood. Wait. It’s a few minutes before a different heart is returned to me. The once-blank space of nothing I handed her the first day we met now bears two words written in black ink.
Not alone.
I press the heart to my chest and say, “You too,” through the door. “Never.”
She doesn’t let me in, but I sit and lean against the barrier for a while. I slip my fingers under the crack so she knows I’m still here.
She’s never given up on me. Not when I pushed her away or tried to throw life to the sea.
So I stay.
I choose this. Now.
I choose after.
I can only have faith Hope will too.
Thirty
Merrick
“You’re going to see that girl again, aren’t you?”
Amaya planted her hands on her hips and blocked Merrick’s path to the door.
He grabbed two apples and a couple Gatorades for the road. “She’s helping me find Mom. I think we’re getting close.”
“Close to kissing.” Amaya made a face, then wiggled her eyebrows.
“It isn’t like that, Maya. Her grandma’s been around this town for years and agreed to let us go through her attic. She’s got old yearbooks and newspapers dating back decades.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, big brother.”
“I will, thanks.”
Grim waltzed down the stairs dressed in clashing patterns of Hawaiian print. While his shorts were all green palms and orange sunsets, his shirt was hula girls and pink leis. A straw hat sat on top of his head, and he had zinc pasted beneath each eye and over the bridge of his nose. “You ready, birthday girl?”
“My birthday is next week.” She followed up with yet another face. She seemed to notice what he was wearing because she added, “You aren’t seriously going out dressed like that, are you?”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Confusion lighting his expression, Grim spread his arms and walked to the kitchen, treating the living room as his personal runway.
Amaya rolled her eyes. “Good thing Nikki’s not here to see this.”
“Didn’t I tell you, kiddo?” Grim asked. “Nikki’s meeting us at the beach.”
“And here I thought you wanted her to fall madly in love with you,” Amaya teased, batting her eyes.
“Why do you think I chose the ensemble, Maya girl? No one can resist the Grimsby charm!”
“And that’s where you’re wrong, big guy.” She jumped and snatched Grim’s hat. He growled and chased her around the kitchen island.
Amaya pretended to be annoyed, but the sparkle in her eyes told Merrick she’d have the perfect first Saturday of summer.
“Make sure she wears the zinc too,” Merrick called from the door. While he didn’t want his sister sunburned, he also wanted to remind them to keep her face disguised.
“She will go unseen,” Grim promised, tugging the hat back onto his head. “Plus, she’s got her own personal bodyguard.” He flexed his muscles. “She’ll be fine.”
Merrick nodded and rolled his eyes. “Tell Nik I said hi.”
“Will do, commander in chief.” Grim winked. “Now go get your girl.”
Merrick headed down the back steps that led to the beach. He’d almost protested that Coral wasn’t his girl. She was helping him investigate things around town. They’d been getting together every weekend over the past month. Now she was out of school and the real work could begin. It was coming together better than he’d hoped. She knew all the right questions to ask and had even come across a few locals who remembered his mom. He sensed they were closer than ever.
Which was the only reason he offered to take her out to lunch. To thank her. This wasn’t a date. Just two friends—partners—who happened to be eating lunch together. No big deal.
This time of year was his favorite. The sleepy tourist town no longer sat idly by as the rest of the world turned along without it. Businesses boomed with the sounds of bells over doors and the laughter of old friends meeting up for brunch.
The past few weekends ran through his thoughts. At first Coral remained distant. But the more time they spent together, the more she softened.
She was so easy to talk to. Did she feel the same about him?
Merrick neared the tea shop on his left—his mom’s favorite place to come when they were kids. She’d brought him and Amaya several times over the summer breaks. They’d sit in the window booth looking out over the street. His mom would sip a cup of tea while Amaya and Merrick devoured the homemade scones and jam.
The cracked door invited him in, the scents of shepherd’s pie and pastries escaping. Inside, rafter beams slanted up to a point in the roof and floating tea lights glowed on every white-clothed table. Mismatched china and teacups dressed the place settings, adding to the antique ambience his mom had appreciated. Fresh summer roses soaked up drinks in vases across the cozy room that wouldn’t seat more than a couple dozen people at most.
When he entered, a friendly looking woman with a pink apron and cheeks to match greeted him. “You look like the sort of young man who belongs next to a lovely young lady.” She winked at Merrick, then gestured toward the window booth.
His knees grew weak and he had to brace himself against a chair.
Coral hadn’t noticed him yet. She sat there, her blue dress only drawing more notice to her brilliant eyes. Her attention rested on the menu before her. The sunlight streaming through the window behind the booth lit her sandy hair that had been pulled off her face and braided to one side.
Amaya was right. He was falling for this girl.
“Go on, young man,” the woman who greeted him urged. “She won’t bite.”
Merrick checked his reflection in the window to his left and walked to the table. “Hi,” he said, sliding into the booth beside her. The word got stuck in his throat and he had to cough to remove it.
She glanced up from her menu, laying those dazzling eyes on him again.
Yep. He was a goner. Denial was pointless.
He turned his eyes to his own menu and tried to focus. “Did you order yet?”
“I was waiting for you.”
The tea selection printed before him suddenly became more amusing. She was nice. She’d waited for him. It didn’t mean anything.
Did it?
He was way overthinking this. What was wrong with him? He’d never been so self-conscious with Nikki.
Because Nikki was not Coral.
&
nbsp; Merrick cleared his throat. Focus. You’re here for business. A favor for a favor. Promise for promise.
He browsed the assortment of teas, sandwiches, salads, and a schedule of daily specials. Chicken potpie. His mouth watered.
“What are you getting?” Was that his voice sounding like a twelve-year-old boy’s?
The waitress—Elizabeth—returned before Coral could answer. “What’ll it be, dears?”
“Scones for the table,” Merrick said, finding his confidence again. “Lots of marmalade and butter, please. And a chicken potpie.”
“I’ll have the same.” Coral folded her menu. “And hot tea.”
“Excellent choices.” Elizabeth took their menus, writing nothing down. “Would you like a pot for the table?”
Coral glanced at Merrick.
His smile widened. “Absolutely.”
“What tea do you fancy?” Elizabeth glanced between Coral and Merrick, a gleam lighting her eyes.
Coral hesitated.
“What do you recommend?” Merrick asked for her.
“They’re all fine choices,” Elizabeth said. “Twinings. Harney & Sons. Tazo. I’m partial to the Savoy blends myself. Miracle Mermaid Tea is a tourist favorite.”
“Sounds good.” Coral nodded and placed her hands in her lap, fidgeting with her napkin.
Was she nervous? Did she think this was a date?
Merrick cleared his throat again.
Did he want this to be a date?
Elizabeth shuffled away, leaving them alone.
They had been alone before. But not like this. With her wearing that dress and Merrick unable to stop staring.
“My mom used to bring me and Amaya here.” Merrick jumped into conversation, hoping it would rid the air of the awkwardness he was creating with all his staring. “It’s been years since we’ve been back. This is nice. Thanks for meeting me.”
Ease washed Coral’s expression. “I’m out of school now, so I can help you more during the week if you want. I actually questioned a few people on my way over this morning.”
His heart raced. She’d done that for him? On her own? “Wow. Thanks.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. Tried to look anywhere but directly at her. “Anything good?”
She pulled out her notebook and flipped it open. “You said your friend’s mom grew up with Lyn?”
The way Coral said his mom’s name, with so much care and tenderness, made Merrick’s heart skip three beats. “Yes. Yeah, she did. I talked to Grim’s mom a bit before she left for Denmark last week. She said the one thing she remembered about Mom was how much she loved this town. She loved being close to the water.”
“Vague,” Coral said, jotting down some notes.
Merrick laughed. She never failed to say exactly what she thought. “Right?”
“Anything else?”
“That having a daughter was my mom’s dream.”
“How is your sister, by the way?”
“She’s okay, I think.” He shrugged. “I’d love for you to meet her sometime.”
“I’d like that.” She rested her pen on the table. Her eyes crinkled and he could sense the change that had been taking place in her. She trusted him. Or she was starting to.
Please don’t let me blow this.
“Did you . . . ?” He couldn’t find the words. “What was your sister like? Before . . .” His voice trailed. He didn’t want to venture where he wasn’t welcome, but he also wanted more.
Coral looked up from her page and met his eyes. “Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“Some days she was fine—seemed fine.”
Merrick nodded, relating to every word.
“The thing is, I knew she wasn’t fine,” Coral went on. “But by the time I actually did something about it, it was too late. She was gone.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He’d carried that blame with Amaya. It broke his heart to think of Coral taking responsibility for her sister’s death.
“I don’t know.” She looked out the window. “It’s not all my fault, I know that. I feel like there’s more I could have done. Or said. She felt so unloved, Merrick.”
And there it was. She’d said his name and his heart soared.
He had it bad. If Amaya were here, she’d say his blush was showing. Merrick only hoped Coral didn’t notice.
“It’s not your fault.” He set his hand on the seat between them. It lingered an inch from hers. “With Amaya . . . I keep reminding myself that I’m doing everything possible to save her. To let her see how much she’s loved. That’s why I’m trying to find our mom. She’ll know what to do. She and Amaya were close. My dad wants to send her away, but I have to believe there’s a better alternative.”
Coral stayed quiet for a bit. Through the tea Elizabeth brought and the three new customers who walked past them. Finally she sighed. “Did your sister start cutting before or after your mom left?”
“Before.” Merrick passed her the sugar and cream, studying how she prepared her tea. Her hands were so delicate. They made him think of her name and the fragility of ocean coral. The rarity of something so beautiful and breakable.
“But that’s because of our dad,” he continued. “He puts so much pressure on Amaya to be this perfect daughter. If she and my mom could start over, away from him, I know things would be easier.”
Coral stirred two sugar cubes and an inch of cream into her tea. “It sounds like you are putting as much pressure on your mom as your dad does on your sister.”
The words stung Merrick more than they should have coming from a girl he hardly knew. “So.” He fiddled with a spoon to busy his rejected hand. “You said you talked to some people today?”
She sipped her tea, then referred to her notes. He was grateful she let him change the subject, though he had a feeling it wouldn’t last.
“The woman at the dance studio remembered her,” Coral said. “And your dad too.”
Merrick had forgotten his mom used to dance. He’d forgotten that she did anything before she was his mom.
“She said Lyn was one of the best talents she’d seen. Your dad observed every rehearsal. Every show. He even proposed to her here.”
“As in here, here?” He laid his palms flat on the table, his excitement growing.
Coral shook her head. “In this town, I mean. Supposedly they had some secret place they used to sneak off to. They were quite the sweethearts.”
He tried to imagine his parents like that. Holding hands and stealing kisses. He racked his brain for some spark of information he’d heard in passing. But his parents rarely told stories of their dating days. They’d fought for so long, he sometimes wondered what his mom had ever seen in Hiroshi to begin with.
Elizabeth returned with their food, giving Merrick a chance to imagine a life before his dad had become such a jerk. He couldn’t fathom it. Whatever his father was before, it was an act. In the after, he’d shown his true colors more times than Merrick could count.
“Enjoy, dears,” Elizabeth said before moving to wait on another table.
Merrick’s eyes grew wide. “I forgot they served whipped cream with the scones!” He took a big dollop off the top of the cream and shoveled it into his mouth.
Coral giggled.
Satisfied with the move Grim would have been proud to witness, Merrick relaxed and waited for Coral to tell him more. He could listen to her talk all day. There was something about her voice that made everything that had happened over the past six months seem less trying. Conquerable.
“So my theory is she didn’t leave town at all,” Coral said after swallowing her bite of scone and marmalade. “That she’s hiding in plain sight. Kind of like you.”
Merrick glanced at her meticulous notes. She’d done more work than he’d given her credit for. And what had he given her? Some tea and scones and a chicken potpie? He owed her the truth. They hadn’t found his mom yet, but in the weekends they’d spent side by side, poring over ideas about his mom’s location
and the interviews Coral had conducted, Merrick found he trusted her more than anyone.
“Coral.” He would tell her everything. Now. He wouldn’t do it as payment. He would do it because he—
“Have you ever considered she doesn’t want to be found?” Coral set her cup in its saucer, interrupting his thoughts with a clink. She scooted an inch to the right. Away from him.
The sudden barrier of oxygen between them felt stifling. Why did she do that? Put up a wall the second he started to get close?
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” His frustrations got the better of him but he didn’t hold back. “First Grim, now you? You don’t know her.”
“No. I don’t. But maybe you don’t either. You only think you know. You assume you understand. That you can fix everything with a happy family reunion or by playing Sherlock Holmes.”
Where had this come from? He’d thought she was on his side.
“If your mom wanted you,” Coral said, “she’d cross the ocean, search land and sea until she found you. Family doesn’t abandon family. Love doesn’t leave.”
“Says the girl who refuses to answer every time her sister calls.”
The betraying words left his mouth before he could swallow them. She’d shared that insight into her still-mysterious world last week, and now he’d used it against her. Shame fell over him, but he couldn’t take it back now.
“Coral, I’m sor—”
A crash resounded from the kitchen. A dropped dish? A broken pitcher?
Coral tossed her napkin onto the table and scooted to the other end of the booth. When she rose, Merrick caught a glimpse of the withdrawn girl he’d first met.
Now I’ve done it. Nice work, genius.
He should have told her about the prince then. It might have fixed what he’d ruined.
But Merrick remained quiet.
Coral waited a blink before leaving him alone at the pink booth with his half-eaten scones and untouched potpie.
He watched her escape, knowing every step she took away from him was one step closer to hiding in her shell for good.
Let her go. What do I care? She’s too sensitive. Can I be expected to handle her constant mood swings? Her up-and-down emotions?
