Coral

by Sara Ella

  “Not today.” Her voice exudes kindness. Grace. “Today is about your friend. You and I? We’ll have our time.”

  We hug and I promise to visit her soon. When I climb into the Fathoms van with the other girls, I close my eyes and lean against the warm window. Sunshine sends bright bursts of colors dancing beneath my eyelids. I listen to their song and bid farewell to two summers.

  The summer of Coral that I couldn’t release until now.

  And this one. The one in which I—Brooke—learned that life is more than just living.

  Hans Christian Andersen had the right idea. “Just living is not enough . . . One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.”

  I twirl Merrick’s daisy between my thumb and forefinger. Tuck it into my hair the way my older sister, River, used to do. I rarely let myself think of her. I’ve kept her so far removed from my story, she was hardly there at all. Now I picture her as she was. I imagine her and Hope together. Holding hands and walking along a private beach I can’t see.

  They’re free, I think.

  But so am I.

  Autumn

  Present Day

  “Just living is not enough . . .”

  —Hans Christian Andersen, “The Butterfly”

  Interstitial – Prince Letter

  Forty-Five

  Merrick Prince

  One month.

  It had been one month since Merrick watched his mom leave Amaya’s funeral without a word. She looked at him the same way she had the night she abandoned him—them—at the hospital.

  But the regret in her eyes was never enough to make her stay.

  He was not enough.

  This time, Merrick no longer searched for his mom or waited for her to return.

  This time, it was his dad he sought. On purpose. Who would have guessed that would ever happen?

  September had nearly come and gone, but the corner office with the skyline view was the same. Photos of his dad’s Navy days decorated the wall alongside an organized cluster of achievements and awards. Shaking hands with the president. Three American Business Awards in different categories. He’d even made Fortune’s list of 100 Best Companies to Work For.

  Merrick had been intimidated by this wall. His own wall had nothing. No Little League trophies or student-of-the-month awards. Not even a spelling bee win. He’d felt average in his father’s ever-present rising shadow.

  Crossing to the wall of windows that overlooked the Bay Area, Merrick took in the familiar view. San Francisco’s iconic Golden Gate Bridge in all its glory was lit, standing out in stark contrast to the autumn night sky. The promise of it taunted him, daring him to escape again. His life was an even bigger mess than it had been last year. When Amaya was still alive. When Merrick blew his chance to save her.

  He let out an inaudible curse and stared through the city to the water beyond. He’d only hurt Amaya more by taking her away. Merrick couldn’t help her. He’d waited for the inevitable then. Had been sure his dad would press charges and Merrick would face the much-deserved consequences.

  But the charges never came.

  He never asked his dad the reasons behind the silence over his crime. They’d hardly spoken since that day in the hospital over a year ago. Another cry for help. Another chance to save his sister.

  But in the months that followed, even Fathoms Ranch couldn’t stop her from taking her own life.

  He avoided his dad as much as possible during her time away, stayed with Grim at the beach house rather than return to an empty home. But now, in the wake of his sister’s funeral, Merrick could no longer put off facing the man who had done everything in his power to help Amaya Hope.

  The office door opened and his father entered. Alone. There had been a period when every knob rattle or hinge creak made Merrick jump. Had him worried this was it—his dad was finally having him arrested.

  But nothing.

  He’d thought more than once about turning himself in. But with Amaya so fragile, he needed to be available, not serving time. Merrick had sent her letters and care packages and even visited her at Fathoms once. She asked him not to come again. It was then he knew his sister’s healing was never something he could force.

  Hiroshi closed the door behind him and moved to his leather desk chair. He opened a drawer, withdrew a file, and donned his reading glasses.

  Lay it on me, Dad. Tell me what a huge disappointment I am and how I’ll never learn from my mistakes.

  A glance at the time set Merrick on edge. He’d arrived at 4:00 p.m. sharp, as his father asked. He sat in the lounge, thumbed through the most recent issues of Forbes and the San Francisco Gate to bide the time. It was now well after business hours.

  How long is he going to draw this out? Amaya’s suicide is my fault. He’s disowning me. Ironic after I spent the better part of my life trying to disown him.

  Hiroshi sighed, sat, and leaned back in his chair. The seat didn’t groan with his weight, only serving as further proof of how tight the man kept his ship. Though it was late and most of his staff had gone home, Merrick’s dad still looked pristine. His tie sat tight against his Adam’s apple and his suit remained unwrinkled. The CEO of Prince Technology was nothing if not presentable.

  But something else didn’t fit. Exhaustion framed Hiroshi’s dark eyes. A recent development? Or had it always been there and Merrick failed to see it?

  He cleared his throat.

  His dad released another sigh, folded his hands on top of his desk, and met Merrick’s gaze. “I never expected you to volunteer to meet with me, Son. Especially not at work as you have made it clear my career is not for you. So tell me, what brings you to my side of town?”

  Merrick’s mouth turned down and a lump formed in his throat. He stared at the sole picture frame on his father’s desk. The family featured was one he hardly recognized. One from another lifetime. From before. His father stood stoic behind his mother, the man’s redwood hands resting on her willow tree shoulders. Hiroshi looked pained to be anywhere near a camera.

  But Merrick’s mother? She’d lived for photos. Said they were a human being’s way of freezing time and capturing the soul. Her expression in this particular photo was pleasant. She held baby Amaya in one arm and had eight-year-old Merrick wrapped in the other. Mom’s fiery red hair matched the reddish tuft of fur on his sister’s tiny head.

  There was a time Merrick had wanted to scream at his father. To blame him for the demise of their family.

  Now he looked at the photo with new eyes. He saw a withdrawn man trying to keep it together. He saw a lost woman with soft, pale features and strawberry freckles that matched his sister’s. Merrick studied his father’s pointed jaw and tapered eyes as black as his hair. Their hair.

  Merrick saw it now, how similar they were beyond genetics. They both wanted the best for Amaya. Maybe they didn’t agree on what the best was, but Merrick could no longer doubt his dad had loved her.

  Clearing his throat again, Merrick made his gaze steady. “I’m sorry.” It had taken him too long to speak the words. Now they came across lacking and hollow. Like his heart these days.

  Hiroshi gave one quick nod. “I’m sorry too.”

  Merrick had to work his jaw to keep it from dropping. Seemed pride was something else he’d inherited from his father. They were learning to let it go. Together.

  “Was that all, Son?”

  It was too easy. Exchanged apologies following the loss of half their family? He needed more. “Why didn’t you have me arrested? Last year, after I took Amaya and she landed in the hospital again?”

  Hiro’s eyebrows arched. “Misunderstandings happen. Your sister . . . If she hadn’t tried it under your care, she would have found a way at home. Which we’ve seen is true.” The man swiveled in his chair and cleared his throat. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Merrick blinked, then peered past his father’s concrete exterior, searching for the man he’d forever failed to see beneath. “Misunders
tanding? Dad, you know I put her in danger. But you covered for me.” It hit him then, a brick to his skull. Of course Hiroshi would be embarrassed. This was a PR thing. He couldn’t have his wayward son’s misdeeds showing up in all the papers. “If this is about good publicity, I don’t—”

  “Will I never win with you?” His dad set his glasses on the desk and sniffed. “What do I need to do to show you I am not the villain here?”

  Villain. Wasn’t that how he’d seen his dad? For once, Merrick didn’t have a retort.

  “You are my son,” Hiroshi said in such a low tone, Merrick almost missed it. “I have only ever tried to raise you to be the best man you can be.”

  “I’m sorry you feel you failed.” Merrick looked away, unable to bear the disappointment his father would no doubt share. If he hadn’t taken Amaya away last year, things might have turned out differently. She would have gone to Fathoms sooner. Maybe she wouldn’t have given up.

  Neither of them said anything for a long time. When Hiroshi finally stood and joined Merrick at the window, he pocketed his hands and stared out at the streets below. “I didn’t fail. I’m proud of you.”

  Merrick’s heart stopped and started. Proud? Where was the punch line?

  “While I don’t condone your untruthful actions last year,” Hiroshi went on, “I see a brother who risked everything to do what he thought would help his sister. I see a son who went to great lengths to track down his mother. I see a young man who stood on his own two feet, who was willing to sacrifice everything for those he loves. The details are foggy, but your heart was in the right place.”

  Merrick swallowed. His misplaced emotions jolted his system.

  “I forgive you,” Hiroshi said. “I hope you can forgive me too. I pushed you on Nikki. I tried to make you fit into my own mold. I take partial blame for you taking such desperate and reckless measures. While the choices were yours, I could have listened more. I should have been the person you came to rather than the one you ran from.”

  Merrick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t know what to say except, “It’s my fault, Dad.”

  “Would you blame yourself if your sister had died of cancer?”

  “What? No. Of course not.”

  “How about a car accident? What if a drunk driver had hit her? Would that have been your fault?”

  Merrick waited for the catch. The phrase that would show his dad’s ulterior motives or need for control.

  It never came.

  “Nooo,” he said slowly. Where was this going?

  Hiroshi rocked back on his heels. His reflection in the window revealed glassy eyes and a pained expression. “What if Amaya had died of a poisonous bite? Or the flu? Or by falling down the stairs? Any of those on you, Son?”

  Merrick shook his head, starting to catch on but waiting for his father to continue.

  “Amaya was sick. Depression is an illness. It is a disease. Those on the outside sometimes brush it off as a choice. A simple change in mood or outlook.” His dad laughed, but the sound was dark, almost resentful. “No one would ever tell a cancer patient to ‘just get over it.’ Why people think they can tell those with a mental illness as much is baffling and cruel.”

  Every word sank deep, anchoring in Merrick’s core. His father understood more than he’d ever recognized.

  Hiroshi turned toward Merrick. Up close he seemed less put together. More human.

  The sight lent a sense of comfort.

  “You messed up,” he said. “No one is denying that. But you are not to blame for Amaya’s death. Depression killed your sister. Not you. If you believe me on nothing else, believe this.”

  Merrick nodded as he held his father’s gaze. It had taken him years to perfect the art of looking the man in the eyes. Now he found the task easy. There was no malice. No hatred behind his expression. They were two Princes trying to figure out how to move on from tragedy. And for the first time since Amaya Hope’s death, Merrick saw he was not alone.

  Hiroshi returned to his desk and Merrick glanced at his phone. He still hadn’t heard from Brooke. He adjusted his perspective and reminded himself of his promises.

  He would wait.

  And he would find her older sister’s “prince.”

  “What now?” Hiro asked when he sat again.

  Merrick had the same question. He was at a loss for how to talk to a man he clearly didn’t know at all. With an exhale, he ran a hand over his face, catching himself in the reflection of the dark window. He looked tired, eyes sunken, his hair in desperate need of a cut. “Beats me.”

  “I don’t suppose I can ask you to work for me? To take an internship?”

  Merrick chuckled. His dad had groomed him to be a businessman since Merrick was old enough to spell economics. “I’ve never had my life figured out, Dad.” He’d said it. Why had he been so afraid to admit this before?

  “I knew what I wanted, even at your age.”

  Merrick winced. Here comes the insult.

  “Sometimes I wish I didn’t,” Hiroshi added. “I wonder if things would have turned out differently with your mom away from all the pressure that comes with my position.”

  Once again, these were words Merrick never thought he’d hear his father say.

  Hiro donned his glasses. Loosened his tie. “You’ll figure things out, Son. Give yourself some time.” He opened another drawer, pulled out a set of keys. “I’d like you to start by driving up here to have lunch with me once a week.” He set the keys on the desk. “You are responsible to pay your own insurance and fill your own gas. The car is a loan. Maybe you’ll want to visit some college campuses. While public transportation isn’t a bad thing, builds character, this will give you a little more freedom to explore your options. Use it wisely.”

  Merrick relaxed his taut fists. “I will.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish up.” Hiro smiled, a look that was foreign but also familiar. It brought back memories of the day at the lighthouse all those years ago.

  And Merrick found himself smiling in return.

  As he grabbed his new keys and headed toward the office door, ten pounds lifted from his shoulders. He stopped at the threshold. “Dad?”

  “Son?”

  “I have a project I’m working on. Someone I need to track down. I’m wondering if you could help me.”

  “Do you have a name? An address? An email?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Hiro glanced once at the stack of files on his desk before he shoved it aside and waved Merrick back inside. “Have a seat. Tell me who you’re looking for and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Merrick closed the door and pulled up a chair. He scanned his memories, flipping them on their heads. His dad wasn’t perfect, but the man was here. He cared.

  As Merrick explained in detail about Brooke and her story and her older sister and the nameless man who had broken the young woman’s heart, his spirits lifted. His father nodded and listened, jotting down notes on a legal pad, then firing up the desktop computer and opening his vast database of contacts.

  All this time, Merrick had seen himself as the hero his sister needed. As the son who could bring his mother home. As the one person who could get through to Brooke and fulfill every promise he’d made.

  It was only now he wondered if the hero had been his father all along.

  Forty-Six

  Brooke

  I choose a seat at the same booth inside the tea shop where Merrick took me for our first date. To return more than a year later is cathartic. A therapy of its own. Something Jake said in a phone call recently stirs my thoughts.

  “Visiting physical places that house both positive memories and negative ones can be part of the healing process, Brooke. Seeing the negative from a new and distanced perspective is freeing. Realizing the things that once hurt you no longer hold that power? There’s nothing sweeter.”

  I glance around, taking in the same smells and sounds that surrounded us that day. We’d
talked and laughed. Then we argued. I ran off. Afraid. Pushing him away when all I wanted to do was fold into his arms.

  I miss him. I miss him so much my soul aches.

  Still, I know I’m not quite ready to go back there yet. Back to him. This is one step in a thousand I have to take moving forward. Save the best for last, right?

  The waitress takes my order—scones with cream and marmalade and a pot of Miracle Mermaid Tea. My heart sinks an inch. Part of me hoped to see Elizabeth again.

  I guess not everything can remain the same.

  When the waitress who is not Elizabeth retrieves my menu and heads to the kitchen, I remove my laptop from my bag and set it on the table. While my weekdays are filled with classes and assignments and navigating the massive and overwhelming campus that is UC Berkeley, the weekends are mine.

  Until finals, anyway.

  A glance at my phone shows it’s just before one in the afternoon. I don’t need to meet Mee-Maw at the assisted living facility for dinner until four, which gives me a few good hours to punch out some words. While I prefer handwritten prose—so personal and romantic and artistic—using the computer has helped speed up the writing process by a million and one percent.

  With renewed determination, I lift the laptop screen, log in, and pull up the saved doc.

  * * *

  One Year Ago—September

  Coral stared, unblinking, at her untouched bowl of butternut soup.

  She stirred and stirred until nothing but cold orange mush remained. Why had her grandmother made this? The onset of a new season had barely begun and already autumn foliage decked the cottage. Every meal they ate looked like pumpkin guts.

  “Here.” Her grandmother offered the basket of fresh rolls. Hawaiian sweet. Coral’s favorite.

  “No, thanks.”

  “How are you liking your senior classes?”

  “Fine, I guess.”

  “And your counseling sessions with Miss Brandes? How are those going after the break?”