Happenstance: A Novella Series: Part Three

by Jamie McGuire

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m terrible at this.”

  “Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re doing just fine, and you look fantastic.”

  Julianne scanned me from my side braid to the white sundress and navy sandals. She’d bought the dress and helped me choose what shoes to wear.

  “Can you come with me to college and help me choose the right outfits?”

  “You wear sweats to class in college. And no makeup. Try not to shower either. They look down on you for that,” she said, only half-joking.

  “Oh, thank God,” I said, helping her serve the plates Sam had quickly filled with meat.

  Weston appeared next to me. “The Johnsons have a pool,” he said, tugging on me.

  “Don’t you dare!” Julianne shrieked. “It took her forever to get her braid just right, and she doesn’t want to look like a river rat before the fireworks!” She looked to me. “Or do you?”

  I shook my head.

  Julianne playfully narrowed her eyes at Weston. “The neighborhood brats all jump into the pool at once.” She poked him with a plastic fork. “Don’t think I don’t know.”

  Weston chuckled. “Fine. C’mon, babe, let’s find some shade until sunset.”

  “Lawn chairs are in the garage,” Julianne called after us.

  Weston grabbed two folded chairs and set them in the shade created by the house. While the sun sizzled on the street, the neighbors ate and chatted under the trees, and the younger kids—who were impervious to the miserable heat—chased each other and threw tiny balls of tissue that would snap when they hit the ground.

  “I can see now how deprived I’ve been,” I said, watching the kids yelp each time a ball of tissue hit their feet.

  “Do you really mean it?” Weston asked.

  I wanted to hold his hand, but my palms were sweaty, and I imagined his were, too.

  “No.”

  “I think about it a lot.”

  “What I’ve missed?”

  “I wonder how different you would be if you had grown up with your real parents.”

  “You think I would have acted like Alder?”

  He shook his head. “No. I bet you would be the same. Maybe a little more relaxed in social situations…” He trailed off, laughing.

  “I can’t argue with that,” I said.

  Weston held a plastic bottle in front of me, and I smiled as I took it from his hand.

  “Straight from the cooler,” Weston said, proud.

  “When I think back on this summer, my memories will consist of the back of your pickup, the overpass, heat that makes my face melt off, and Fanta Orange.”

  “We’ll make other memories, too,” Weston said. “I noticed there are a bunch of broken-down boxes in the garage.”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what they think I’ll fill them with.”

  “All the stuff your crazy mother has bought you. Mom said Julianne has filled the entire guest room with dorm stuff.”

  I nodded. “A memory foam egg crate for the bed, cutlery, and homemade completely organic cleaners. That’s pretty much all.”

  “That can’t be all! Mom said there’s an entire roomful of stuff!”

  “Towels. Lysol. A furry throw or two from Pottery Barn.”

  “A throw?” He smirked. “That’s just excessive.”

  I laughed out loud. “Why is your mom snooping in Julianne’s guest room? That’s weird.”

  Weston snorted. “Julianne is very proud of your dorm accessories.”

  “Clearly.”

  I watched my parents eating and talking and laughing, looking happy—and sweaty. No one really wanted to touch each other—which was nice when I met the neighbors, but not so nice for affectionate people like Sam and Julianne. I could tell they wanted to hug but decided to wait until the sun went down.

  “I could really go for an extra-tall cherry dip cone right now. I don’t have connections at the Dairy Queen anymore.”

  “I still work there. Stop pretending you don’t get a dip cone every time I’m scheduled.”

  Weston leaned his head toward me, but he didn’t dare touch his wet hair to mine. “Because you love me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He paused in thought. “Why do you still call it Sam and Julianne’s house? It’s your house, too.”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes, really. My parents’ house is my house.”

  “You’ve lived there your entire life.”

  “So, it just feels weird to say it?”

  I shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Does it feel weird to say I’m yours? Because it doesn’t feel weird to say you’re mine.”

  I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile. “Some mornings, after waking up, it hits me all over again that this is really happening. I wonder why you’re mine.”

  “Because you’re kind and brilliant and beautiful. And you’re not like anyone else.”

  “And because I make you extra-tall cherry dip cones?”

  “Exactly,” he said with a nod.

  He relaxed back into his chair just as the sun spilled pink and orange rays across the sky. I thought about the mural and that our artwork would be there long after we’d left Blackwell behind.

  The sun set, and the stars began to peek from the darkness, one at a time. Eventually, the first pop of the fireworks show could be heard, and a spray of red, white, and blue spread out in all directions across the night sky.

  Children screamed in delight while the adults oohed and aahed.

  Weston reached over and touched my silver necklace. “Are you going to stop wearing it when you’re in Stillwater?”

  “No,” I said. “Why would I?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you don’t want old things in your new life.”

  “This is my new life,” I said, intertwining my fingers in his.

  WESTON AND I WOULD SPEND OUR DAYS AND NIGHTS on the Gates’ private dock at Lake Ponca, in our spot at the overpass, and on the couch in his basement. He’d also visit me on the few days when I worked at the Dairy Queen.

  Frankie was training a new girl, Jordan, and after a few weeks, it didn’t make much sense for me to take up room in the tiny space we had to work in. That, and I would be leaving in less than a week for college.

  On my last day at the DQ, Frankie was quiet. The rushes from football and band practice letting out were over, and I was just beginning to clean up the mess we’d made.

  A truck snarled in the baseball field parking lot. It was Weston’s red Chevy, and he was gunning the engine while parked in his usual spot. He backed out, paused, and then crossed the street before parking on the asphalt, just like he had done a hundred times since he got his license.

  My heart fluttered. He wasn’t wearing his baseball uniform, but he was in a T-shirt and basketball shorts, his toned long arms bulging from his sleeves.

  He approached my window and smiled. I pulled it open. Asking him what he wanted was unnecessary, but he was making a gesture. This was the last time he would drive across the street and order from me.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, feeling a bit sentimental.

  “Hi, Erin,” he said from under his bangs. His emerald-green eyes glowed as he tried to stifle a grin.

  “Hi.”

  “I’d like a cherry dip cone, please. Extra tall.”

  “You got it,” I said, turning.

  Jordan and Frankie both watched me take a cone from the holder and then pull on the soft-serve lever. I made his extra-tall cone, smiled as I created my very last curl on the top, and then turned again, dipping the ice cream into the cherry coating. The gooey red layer hardened as I carefully handed it to Weston under the window.

  “Thanks, babe,” he said before taking a large bite off the top as he always did. “I wanted to be your last one.”

  He dropped a few dollars on the counter, and I gave him his change. He winked at me before swaggering back to his pickup.

  “That,” Frankie said, “was disgustin
g. I’m so glad today is your last day, so I’ll no longer be forced to witness your grotesque public affection.”

  “Technically, that wasn’t PDA,” Jordan said. She shrank back when Frankie shot her an intimidating glare.

  I crossed my arms. “How is Mark? He’s come to the drive-through at least once every time I’ve been here.”

  She snarled, “He is wonderful. He allegedly loves me and my crazy kids. He wants to move in together. I said not yet.”

  “Not yet?” I asked.

  “He’s nice. I like him a lot. But not yet.”

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  “I still can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Frankie whined, turning to restock the cups. “I mean, I knew it was coming. I’ve known you weren’t going to stick around here, but it won’t be the same without you.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel bad at all,” Jordan said, pushing up her black-rimmed glasses.

  “It’s not all about you, sticky fingers,” Frankie snapped.

  Jordan shot her a look of confusion, and Frankie narrowed her eyes.

  “Don’t think I haven’t seen you popping M&M’s into your mouth every time you walk by.”

  Jordan shook her head. “I haven’t. I—”

  Frankie pointed at her. “You’re lucky you use plastic spoons. Otherwise, that’s unsanitary, and Patty would fire you for contaminating the toppings.”

  Jordan began to protest again, but I touched her shoulder. “She warms up.”

  “No, I don’t,” Frankie grumbled, picking at the wet rag in her hand.

  She does, I mouthed.

  Jordan nodded, a desperate expression on her face.

  I remembered my first days with Frankie. She’d yelled at me a lot, accused me of eating the candy, and then offered me a ride home.

  Jordan was quiet, like me, and would do just fine.

  Patty came in with a bright smile on her face. I untied my apron and hung it on the hook for the last time.

  “I can’t watch,” Frankie said, turning her back to me.

  “Thought I’d come by to say good-bye,” Patty said.

  She hugged me, and then Frankie turned and hugged me at the same time.

  They held me longer than I had expected, so my eyes danced around the room while I waited for them to let go. I patted Frankie’s shoulder, and then Patty finally eased her grip.

  “We’re going to miss you around here, kiddo. Have fun at college,” Patty said with a wink. “Try to visit if you get a chance.”

  I nodded. “Thank you, Patty, for…” The list was too long. “Everything. I’m really going to miss it here. You’ve always been good to me.”

  “You’ve always deserved it,” Patty said.

  “Get out of here.” Frankie sniffed. “Enjoy what’s left of your summer.”

  I hugged them once more, waved to Jordan, and then walked through the back room, pulling my car keys out of my pocket.

  Weston had turned north out of the parking lot, so I knew he wasn’t headed home.

  After getting into my BMW, I sat in the driver’s seat and pressed the ignition button, listening to the engine snarl to life just as my phone chimed. Then, it sounded again.

  One text message was from Weston, and the other was from Sam, both asking how my day had gone. I grinned. They were my favorite men in the entire universe.

  I responded to both of them that I was sad, happy, and on my way home. Then, I pulled the gear into drive. Being behind the wheel of my shiny red BMW was no longer nerve-racking. My hands didn’t tremble every time the wheels moved forward. I could change lanes like it was nothing, and sometimes, I would even go a mile or two over the speed limit.

  When I arrived, Julianne was just getting out of her car, looking svelte in a dark pantsuit. “Hi, honey!” she lilted when I stepped out of the car. “How was work?” Her voice echoed in the oversized garage.

  “Good. A little sad. Where have you been?”

  “At the clinic,” she said, her eyes bright. “Paperwork.”

  “You’re really doing it?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said quickly. Then, her smile faded a bit. “Is that okay?”

  “Yeah!” I said, my voice too high. “Completely. I’m super excited for you.”

  Her smile returned, and she sighed, relieved. “Are you sure you won’t need me? You’ll just be settling in—”

  “I’ll be fine. I can just call you, right?”

  “Right!” she said, nodding emphatically. “Uh…dinner? I’m craving Los Potros like crazy.”

  “Me, too, actually,” I said.

  She gestured for me to follow her inside the house. “I’ll call Sam. I think his last case might be over by five, if we’re lucky.”

  “I’ll just…” I began, pointing upstairs.

  “Oh, yeah. Wash the Queen off. I’ll be down here, ready when you are,” she said, half in the kitchen, half in the hallway. She was tugging her earrings from the holes in her ears.

  “It won’t take long.” I headed for the stairs.

  She dismissively waved me away. “Take your time. Oh! Erin?” she called.

  I paused. The tone in her voice was different but familiar. She was nervous, unsure.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “Can you come here for a minute?”

  I joined her in the kitchen. She held a rectangular piece of thin paper in her hand with an uneasy grin on her face.

  “What’s that?” I asked

  She held it out for me to see. “Sam found it. It’s the darnedest thing. Just hadn’t dawned on me until now.”

  I stood next to her, taking a glimpse at the photograph in her hand. It was of Julianne in a hospital bed. She was red-faced, sweaty, and overjoyed.

  “It’s us,” Julianne said, her eyes glossing over. “Sam snapped this seconds after you were born before they took you away. This is you, Erin—me and you.”

  I stared at the picture for a full minute, noting how dark and thick my hair was, how happy Julianne seemed, the way she held me in her arms. It was our first picture together and our last…until recently.

  I looked over at a frame on the barstool side of the kitchen island. It held a photograph of Sam, Julianne, and me. Weston had taken it just after graduation. I was in my cap and gown, and Sam and Julianne were beaming. The metal frame bore elegant cursive that spelled Family.

  I felt my throat tighten, and I threw my arms around Julianne.

  She hugged me back and chuckled, surprise evident in her voice.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  Julianne’s breath caught, and then she touched her cheek to my hair. “I love you, sweetheart. You have always been my greatest joy.”

  The back door opened and closed, and then Sam’s footsteps echoed down the hall. He froze in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

  Julianne sniffed. “She loves her mom.”

  Sam’s shoulders fell, and he smiled.

  “I love my dad, too,” I said.

  He frowned, and then his bottom lip quivered. He dropped his suitcase and walked the few steps to our embrace. He eclipsed both of us with his body, encompassing Julianne and me with his arms.

  I had been involved in not one but two sad embraces that day, but what amazed me the most was that it was okay. Neither had felt awkward or forced. Not only had I accepted that I was loved, but also that I was worthy of and deserved that love.

  “We’re doing Los Potros for dinner,” I said, my voice muffled.

  Sam and Julianne both released me and chuckled.

  “I’m just going to take a quick shower,” I said, pointing up.

  Sam nodded, his eyes full of tears. “Good idea. You smell.”

  Julianne playfully backhanded his arm.

  “I’ll be down in fifteen minutes,” I said.

  “Okay, sweetie,” Julianne said.

  As I climbed the stairs, I heard Julianne ask Sam about his day.

  “I missed you like hell,” he said.

  I grinned al
l the way to my room. Our family was a circle of strength and love, and that was what made me the proudest to be a part of it.

  I scrubbed the milk, sugar, and chocolate syrup from my hands and fingernails, and then I lathered the soap over everywhere else before standing under the hot stream of water just long enough to rinse away the soap.

  My cell phone buzzed on the bathroom counter as I brushed my teeth. The message was from Weston, wondering if I had plans for dinner.

  I responded with a yes, explaining that my parents and I were going out.

  He didn’t reply.

  I combed the tangles from my hair and then slipped on a green sundress and white wedges, forgoing makeup and leaving my hair damp in the interest of time.

  When I made it back to the kitchen, Sam and Julianne were chatting, looking incredibly happy and in love, still in the same clothes they’d had on earlier.

  “You look lovely,” Sam said.

  “Thank you. Do you think, if Weston texts me back, he could join us for dinner? I think he was hoping to make plans.”

  “Sure, honey,” Julianne said, picking up her purse from the counter. “Just tell him to meet us there.”

  I followed them to Sam’s car. Once I settled into the backseat and buckled my seat belt, I sent Weston another text.

  We arrived at the restaurant, and we were seated almost immediately. We walked past the full tables of people from our tiny town. They stared at us until we sat down, still curious about our new family.

  The tiny triangles hanging from strings on the ceiling were trembling from the air-conditioning blowing from the ducts.

  “Has Weston said anything?” Julianne asked.

  I looked down at my phone. Nothing. I shook my head.

  “He’s probably helping his dad,” Sam said, looking at the menu.

  “Why are you reading that?” Julianne teased. “You order the same thing every time.”

  “I do not,” Sam said.

  Julianne raised an eyebrow. A waiter approached the table, setting down a basket of homemade chips and a bowl of salsa.

  “Waters, Señor Alderman?” the waiter said.

  We all nodded.

  “One large queso?” the waiter asked.

  Julianne winked at me.

  Sam nodded.

  “Pollo loco, no beans?” the waiter asked.

  Sam pretended to look over the menu while we patiently waited, and then he nodded. “Yes, Carlos, thanks.”