by Trudy Stiles
We ride the elevator to the first floor in silence. Heath reaches the bell station before me, while I grab city guides and brochures from the concierge. He already has a taxi waiting for us by the time I walk outside.
Once inside the cab, I start scrolling through the various attractions at the zoo. “What made you want to go to the zoo?” Heath asks.
I look up, placing my hand on my backpack. “My parents came here. A long time ago. I guess I just wanted to experience something they did together.”
His eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m glad we stopped here then.” He looks out the window and then states, “It’s kind of like a living memorial to both of them.”
“Yes,” I admit. I only wish my mother could have lived long enough to fulfill my father’s wish to come here with me. I have a feeling my heart is going to break many times today. Many times during the course of this trip.
“Columbus Zoo!” the taxi driver exclaims. Heath pays for the fare, and we slide out of the back of the car.
“Thank you,” I say as he drives away.
We make it into the zoo and take a look at the map. “Where do you want to go first?” Heath asks.
“Let’s head over to the right to see the animals of North America and Asia.”
We take our time exploring the various habitats of some of the most beautiful animals in the world. There are many families with small children running around enjoying themselves. I’m envious of the innocence that these little kids have, some seeing these animals for the very first time.
“I wish I could have come here with my parents,” I admit.
Heath throws his arm over my shoulder. “My parents had a membership to the Philadelphia Zoo, but I think I only went once or twice when I was a kid. I barely remember it.” He’s pensive, almost sad that his memories have faded.
We make our way to the back of this section of the park where the African animals are showcased. A pride of lions lay, basking in the hot sun. “They’re beautiful,” I state as I watch one of the females as she cleans herself and the large male next to her.
Did my parents stand here and do the same thing? Are these lions the offspring of the ones that they saw so many years ago? Maybe these large, adult lions were cubs back then. Standing here triggers something that I saw earlier when I was looking through my father’s journal. I open my backpack to remove it, opening it carefully.
There’s a picture nestled behind the page that I read earlier this morning.
“What’s that?” Heath asks as I hold the photo up in front of us.
“It’s my mother,” I say, tears filling my eyes. She’s beautiful. Wearing a floral sundress and a floppy hat on her head. She’s shielding her eyes from the sun, the lions’ den behind her in the distance. The animals are blurry, but the shot is gorgeous.
“She’s standing right where we are now,” Heath observes.
So much life was ahead of her. So much happiness. All of which was robbed from her too young.
“I want to know everything about her. So many things I would love to ask her.”
“Tell me one thing you want to know,” Heath says.
My mind races with the unexpected request. “I’d ask her what drew her to my father the first time she met him.”
Heath nods his head. “Your father was a distinguished man,” he states. “He was always focused on doing what was best for your family. Providing for you to keep you comfortable. I bet she saw this in him and realized what her future may be like.”
I realize he’s worded his response carefully. He mentions nothing about keeping us ‘safe.’ My father changed after my mother died, the man that she saw wasn’t the man that I grew to know. Grew to trust.
“I want to know all about the life they had together before me. Before she died. When my father was happy and not afraid of what Tonya and her family could do to us.”
“I wish I had a time machine,” he says.
“So do I.”
I’M SHOWERED AND READY for dinner just an hour after getting back to our hotel. Our day at the zoo was fun, but super hot. There’s nothing like being at a zoo in the middle of August, with all of the various smells from the animals coating you along with your sweat.
Heath and I had a great time. Although the reason for our being there hung over our heads, we didn’t let it get us down. I found several more Columbus Zoo pictures of my mother and my parents in my father’s journal. Heath even had me recreate one of them while I posed in front of the white-handed gibbons’ cage, with the beautiful animals swinging on vines behind me. Of course, I wasn’t wearing a sundress or a floppy hat, but Heath captured the moment spectacularly.
I scroll through my phone, smiling at the various pictures we took throughout the day. One selfie in particular grabs me. Heath is behind me, his cheeks blown out like the puffer fish we’d just seen. His eyes are closed, and I’m mid-laugh. I chuckle as I make the photo my background wallpaper on my phone.
“What’s so funny?” Heath asks, emerging from his room, freshly showered.
“This.” I turn my phone around so he can see the picture.
“I didn’t think you’d keep that one!” He laughs and swipes the phone from my hand.
“Don’t delete it!” I yell. “It’s my favorite!”
He thumbs through several more photos, and his expression changes.
“Who’s this?” he asks, turning my phone around so I can see it.
It’s a picture of me, Dahlia, and Blake, Dahlia’s twin brother. Blake is a good friend, but has also been interested in me, romantically, for years.
“Friends from ho– I mean Chappy,” I say. I stop myself from calling Chappaquiddick my home, although that’s what it’s been for the past twelve years.
“I’ll ask you the same question you asked me the other night. Is there someone else in your life? Someone you’re in a relationship with?”
In the picture, Blake is kissing my cheek while Dahlia is photobombing us from behind. Blake and I have hooked up a couple of times, but nothing serious. He’s been persistent more recently, but I’ve been able to keep him at arm’s length–except for this picture.
“There’s no one.”
“It’s weird seeing you with people I don’t know. You look really happy in this picture,” he notes. His eyes fall to my phone as he hands it back to me.
“I have a happy life there. I’ve gotten comfortable and feel safe. It’s a quiet town, and people have generally let me stay to myself. But, yes, I’ve found happiness there.” It’s so strange seeing Heath look through a window into my current life. A life I’ve managed to make happy and comfortable without him. I can tell it pains him to witness it.
“I’m glad you’ve been able to find this place,” he says. “What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“You mean for work? Like a job?”
He nods his head.
“Well, it’s nothing as glamorous as you, Mr. Rock Star.” We have yet to talk about his career and how wildly successful he is. I was actually surprised that no one at the zoo today recognized him for who he is–the lead singer of one of the biggest rock bands in the country. “We need to talk about Epic Fail,” I demand.
He smiles. “This isn’t about me. I want to know about you.”
“I don’t work. I mean, not really. Dahlia owns a small flower shop that she runs on her own. I help her out a few times a week, but I don’t take a paycheck from her. It’s really just for fun.”
“So you lounge on the beach all day?” he jokes.
“Sometimes,” I smile. “I don’t have to work. When I left, my father made my trust fund available that was from my mother. I’m very comfortable.” I’m embarrassed talking about my money and the fact that I don’t contribute to society in any way. Although I do enjoy reading and writing, and of course, helping out at the flower shop.
“That’s nice,” he states. “I’m glad you have your friends–and the beach.”
&
nbsp; “I volunteer quite a bit,” I admit. “But not as much as I’d like. It requires trips to the mainland, which I tend to avoid.”
“What’s ‘Chappy’ like?” he asks, using air quotes.
“It’s quiet and quaint. Many of the people who live there have owned houses or property for a long time. Lots of old money. It’s a tight-knit community, but people still keep to themselves, mostly.”
“Was it hard to assimilate?” he asks.
“Not really. I’m actually surprised that I was able to move in, virtually unnoticed for a while. I bought a small house on a large piece of waterfront property. I didn’t meet any neighbors for months. One of them admitted that they thought the house had been abandoned. A lot of assumptions were made about me, but the story that they all believe is I moved there from the city, inheriting money from my family. They think I’m an artist and all I do is paint portraits of the ocean.”
“Really?” He laughs. “I’ve seen your drawings. You? An artist?”
I swat at him, smacking the side of his arm. “Be nice!”
“You have a lot of people fooled, apparently,” he says, still laughing.
“The house that I bought came fully furnished. I found two dozen paintings in the attic, and I may have told a few white lies to people who’ve come to my house.” I grin widely. The paintings, I found out, belonged to the woman who owned the house. She passed away a few months before I moved there and her hobby had been painting the landscape around her house. I reached out to her daughter, who didn’t want the paintings. She said they were mine to keep or do whatever I wanted with.
“So, what are we going to do for dinner?” Heath asks, looking at his watch. “And more importantly, what time do you want to get on the road tomorrow?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I’m up for anything.”
“Why don’t you look in your father’s journal to see if there’s someplace he and your mother may have eaten?”
My heart flutters in my chest, his thoughtfulness overwhelms me.
“That’s an incredible idea!”
He hands me my backpack, and I pull out the journal, flipping to the pages detailing the time that he and my mother were here in Columbus.
“Lindey’s!” I exclaim. “His notes say it’s in German Village. They ate on the patio.”
He grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet. Our noses practically touch before he backs away. “It’s pretty hot outside, but I’ll brave dinner on the patio with you.” He smiles and doesn’t let go of my hand as he guides me toward the door.
I’m overcome with so many emotions. Sadness and excitement wrestle inside my chest. On one hand, taking this trip down memory lane, eavesdropping on my parents’ honeymoon, is so upsetting. I wish things were different. I wish they were alive, personally walking me through their adventures. But I’m here, experiencing these things with Heath. The only other person on earth that I would ever want with me on a trip like this.
I’m excited to live their lives through my father’s words.
I squeeze Heath’s hand as we descend in the elevator. The upcoming days are going to be some of the most difficult and exciting, and I get to share that with him.
Once again, Heath’s giving me back my past, my innocence. All while we make new memories. Together.
When all is forgotten you find new ways to rescue me.
Heath
Present
“HEATH, WAKE UP,” Noelle’s soft voice sounds like it’s a million miles away. “We’re here.”
My eyes pop open, and I’m staring at the roof of my SUV.
“How long was I asleep?” I ask, groggily, shifting my seat back into a sitting position. We left Columbus first thing this morning, and I drove the first few hours. But my eyes became bouncy and Noelle offered to drive the rest of the way. I don’t even remember passing out.
“About two hours,” she replies. “And you were snoring so loud I had to turn up the music. I can’t believe you slept through the Foo Fighters blasting throughout the car.”
“I can’t believe I slept through that either. I must have been totally out of it.”
“Yup. And you were right, we made it in just under seven hours,” she notes as she turns off the ignition and hands me my keys.
We’re in St. Louis, Missouri. The next stop on her parents’ cross-country trip.
Last night when we got back from dinner, I suggested we look through the journal so we could get ideas on where we should stop along the way. I want her to experience as much of her parents’ trip as she can, at least until we reach the Grand Canyon.
A valet knocks on the driver’s window, and I hand the keys back to Noelle. “They’ll take care of the car.” I chuckle as I open the passenger side door. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever ridden shotgun in my own car before and it feels weird exiting from this side.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, several flashes go off.
Fuck.
“Heath! What are you doing in St. Louis?”
“Is it true Epic Fail is on a break?”
“Are you going solo?”
Shouts from the crowd of paparazzi gathered in front of the hotel quickly snap me out of my post-sleep fog. I raise my hand in the air, trying to block their photographs, but it’s no use.
“Who’s the girl with you?” one of them shouts as Noelle rushes around the car, darting into the hotel.
“Just a friend,” I state and walk past them, shoving my hands into my pockets.
Thankfully, hotel security blocks them from following me in.
How the hell did they even find me?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Strickland. We tried to divert them, but once someone got wind that you were staying here, more and more paparazzi started showing up,” the hotel manager apologizes, stepping out from behind the front desk and walks toward me.
“I certainly didn’t publicize that I was coming here, so I have no idea how on earth they would even know. You need to check into your staff, Mr. Doyle,” I state, looking at his name tag. “Someone ran their mouth, and I’m willing to bet that someone is here.”
I look around, Noelle is nowhere in sight.
“Your travel companion has already been shown to your room,” Mr. Doyle states. “Again, I’m so sorry for this experience. Please let us make it up to you.”
“Just tell me where I’m going,” I demand, annoyed. I realize it’s probably not his fault, but a crowd is now gathering in the hotel lobby, and I need to get out of here.
“The Presidential Suite. This key will give you access to the floor.” He hands me a key card, and I walk to the elevators.
When the elevator opens on the top floor, I walk down the end of the hall where our room is.
“Noelle?” I say as I enter. “Are you here?”
She comes out from one of the bedrooms, wide-eyed. “Sorry, they rushed me up here as soon as I got inside.”
“It’s okay. I’m really sorry you had to deal with all of that downstairs.”
“How did they know you were coming here?”
“Probably some staffer started running their mouth. Although, I rarely travel under my real name, so Stuart must have messed up when he booked this hotel for me.”
“You keep talking about Stuart,” she notes. “Who is he?”
“He’s our manager. Our right-hand-man. He basically handles everything for us.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding her head.
“Seriously, I’m really sorry. None of this should have happened.”
“It’s okay. I suppose you’re already used to it. But, I’m not comfortable with all of the pictures.”
I tense up, clenching my fists. I didn’t even think about the ramifications of her being publicly photographed with me or anyone else for that matter. Will this put her in danger? Will Tonya’s family come looking for her now that her picture is going to be all over the place?
“Shit. Let me make a few phone calls,” I mutter, fumbling for my phone.
“No. Don’t worry about it. Nobody knows who I am, remember? Let’s keep it that way.”
She’s right, to a certain extent. But I don’t want people prying and trying to dig too deep.
I’ll give Stuart a call later or send him a text. I’d like him to try to do some damage control and maybe buy off a couple of the photographers, if he can. I also want him to make sure he books me under another name for our next stop.
“Why don’t we book the hotel rooms under my name?” Noelle suggests.
“What? No way. We don’t want to draw any attention to you. You’re a ghost, remember?”
“I mean my legal name. Sawyer Duncan.”
“Sawyer Duncan?” I ask, confused.
“Yes, it’s the name I’ve been living under since I left. It’s my mother’s name, Melanie Sawyer Duncan.”
“It’s a beautiful name. But it’s not you,” I state. “I’m sorry, but I’m being honest.”
“I know. It’s been weird living with her name. It’s what my friends call me. They don’t know my real name.” She looks sad and guilty at the same time.
“Regardless, we aren’t using any of your names. We’ll use my fake name from now on.”
Her eyes light up, a smile playing across her lips. “Which is?”
“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,” I joke and immediately regret choosing those words.
Thankfully, she laughs it off. “I can keep a secret.”
“Dominic Hayes.” Stuart chooses each of our names because he has some sort of funny fascination with pseudonyms.
“That sounds like a perfectly normal name,” she giggles.
“Exactly why I use it as much as I can, especially when I travel.”
“We’ll keep that in mind when we make it to the next city,” she states as she sits on the large couch in the living area.
“Which is?” We hadn’t read that far into her father’s journal, and I’m curious where the next stop should be.
She finds it in her backpack and fans through the pages. “Tulsa, Oklahoma.”
“That’s a great city. I know a few places we could go,” I say, remembering the time we stopped there during our last tour. Dax and I had a great steak dinner at this place in the heart of the city. “But first, we need to figure out what we’re doing here. Although, now that my cover is blown, it’s going to be a little difficult moving around.”
