“Why do you say that?” I asked, watching the pair. The girl named Margret was talking a hundred miles a minute, but Audrey’s attention seemed to be focused elsewhere.
“She comes into the Crescent Moon on a fairly regular basis and always has something to complain about. ‘The coffee is too cold, the pastries are too dry’–things like that. She’s just never content and she enjoys making everyone around her miserable,” Beck said.
“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“No, she isn’t. I can’t for the life of me figure out why Audrey gives her the time of day. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Audrey is an odd-ball too, but she’s not cruel,” Beck said.
“Maybe she feels sorry for her.” I shrugged. Audrey didn’t look like an odd-ball. She looked like something not of this world. Maybe it was the way she moved, or the way she wore her hair, but she definitely seemed out of place–like she didn’t quite fit in. Or maybe it was that no one else seemed to fit into her world.
Beck’s phone emitted a high-pitched ping-ping sound from somewhere on her person. She sat her plate on the bench beside her, and wiped her hands on a napkin before reaching into a hidden pocket on the hem of her skirt. The butterfly wings began to dance from her movement. “It’s Cameron,” she said.
“Are you still talking to him?” I asked, “I thought he was just a rebound.”
“He was,” she said, typing a quick reply. “I mean, he is.”
I lifted an eyebrow in skepticism.
“He keeps asking to meet up with me again,” she said. “I haven’t figured out how to tell him that I’m just not that into him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“You, the queen of verbal vomit, can’t come up with a way to say no to someone?” I feigned shock.
Beck shot me a pointed look. “He’s nice. I’m not generally a jerk to nice people.”
“Oh no,” I said. “That special form of treatment is reserved to those who annoy you.”
“Do you want to end up on my list?” she threatened.
I just giggled.
“Anyway. When did you say Luke was coming out?”
“He said he’ll be out as soon as he’s done with his shift.”
“Are you nervous to see him?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No. Luke doesn’t make me nervous. I’ve always felt comfortable around him. But that was the problem, right.” It wasn’t a question.
“He makes me nervous,” she commented. “In a good way.”
I grinned, and threw a leftover tidbit from one of my crispy fries at her nose. She laughed, and tossed it back.
“Well,” Beck said, “we should probably grab the food orders for the others, and head back for the tent. We still have another four hours before the vendor’s tents close down. The bonfire will probably start around six thirty, and the concession vendors won’t close down until eleven.”
“Good, because I think I’m going to need to get more of these fries,” I said, looking down into my now empty cup.
“I told you they were good.” Beck grinned deliberately.
***
I didn’t expect to see him standing there when we returned with the food. He looked different than I remembered. He was wearing a pair of slacks and a light colored button-up. He was thinner now, or, had he always been that thin? I couldn’t recall. His sandy hair was ruffled, and his glasses couldn’t hide the dark shadows in the hollows of his eyes. But his eyes were bright despite this, and they rested on mine; matching mine.
“Who’s the guy?” Beck asked.
“My dad,” I said, recovering from the initial shock. I immediately glanced toward my mom, and she was actually smiling. It wasn’t a full-on toothy smile, but the sentiment was apparent enough. I forced myself to breathe again.
“There you are,” Mom said, emerging from the tent. “We were beginning to starve.” She took the food out of my hands, leaving me standing there with nothing to hold onto–nothing to do with my hands.
“Does your mom color her hair?” Beck asked. She was probably studying both of my parents, wondering how I had gotten my auburn locks.
“It used to be red,” was all I could muster.
“Hi Darcy,” my dad said. He was standing with his hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks about a foot in front of me. All I could think about was how lucky he was to have pockets. I wanted so badly to hide my shaking hands.
My eyes flickered back to Mom, and then over to Grandma who was watching me carefully. Her eyes told me that everything was okay, that I didn’t need to run. I swallowed hard instead. “Hi, Dad.”
“Your mom told me that you got my letter,” he said, gesturing with a hand briefly in the air between us. He dropped it back to his side when he wasn’t sure what to do with it anymore. “Do you want to take a walk?” he asked.
“Okay,” I agreed.
Beck grabbed my arm, spinning me carefully to face her. “You okay with this?” she asked. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a butter knife, but I forced my mouth into the shape of what I hoped resembled a smile.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” I told her.
She nodded, and let go of my arm.
My dad was about four inches taller than me, but the small distance that separated us made me feel like I was the size of a toddler again. We started down the sidewalk, away from the tent. We walked slowly, pretending to look at booths as we passed. Feigning interest in a cinnamon scented candle, I paused to smell the wax contents inside the ceramic jar.
“Smell nice?” Dad asked awkwardly.
“I love cinnamon,” I said, placing the jar back on the table. “Did you see the little geese with the crazy outfits?” I gestured over my shoulder, back to the safety of where our tent was located.
“You really want to talk about geese?” Dad asked.
I sighed, wishing I could scrounge up a coherent emotion to the surface of my brain. “No,” I said. “I don’t.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Beck and I just finished lunch.”
“Is there somewhere a little more quiet we can go?” he asked.
I led him away from the crowds, and back toward the beach where Beck and I had eaten lunch by the pier. Our bench was now occupied, but the beach itself was mostly vacant of people. It was too cold to swim, but a couple of brave souls wearing wetsuits ventured out into the inky-blue waves with surfboards. I decided to focus on them while we walked; I could keep my eyes averted that way.
“You look well,” Dad said after a while. I knew he’d been studying me.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Have you been feeling well? Your mom says you do home therapy now.”
“I’m fine,” I said. I stopped walking, and gazed off at the rolling tides. With him standing so close to me, looking so haggard and defeated, it was hard to remember why I was angry. Or, had been…
“I guess you and Mom are talking now,” I said, for the sake of filling the silence.
“Yeah, she told me about the booth you were running, and thought it would be a good opportunity for us to speak.” He looked over at me with an expression of uncertainty, like maybe he doubted whether or not it actually was.
I felt my features shifting together, a combination of a scowl softening into sorrow. I wanted to tell him that I had been angry with him for betraying our family, but after reading his letter, I was angry for a different reason. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t understand why they had decided to keep their separation a secret–knowing that so much heartache could’ve been avoided with the truth… But the tr
uth was that I wasn’t angry anymore. We had all played a monumental part in what had happened; like pieces on a chessboard, our individual moves all added up in a devastating loss.
“I hated you, you know,” I said, not looking at him.
“I hated me, too.”
I turned to him then, my clammy fingertips reaching for the skin of his forearm. “I was wrong to have acted the way that I did,” I whispered, knowing he could still hear me. “I hope you can forgive me for behaving like a spoiled brat.”
My father’s rigid body gave way with a sigh, like he was finally free of the heavy burden of guilt and despair he had been carrying around. He wrapped his arms around me, pushing my head to his chest while his chin rested on the top of my head. He smelled like fabric softener, and the Aspen cologne he had used since I was a child.
“Everything I have ever done in life was meant with the intentions of protecting my children. Sometimes it’s hard to see that good intentions are mistakes in disguise.”
I looked up at my dad then, at the lines pulling at the corners of his eyes. He’d aged, I realized, so much in such a short amount of time. The family dynamic that I had grown up knowing had changed, but the only thing that mattered now was the love my parents had for me. That would never change. It was the one thing I could count on, so I decided to cling to it with certainty, and leave out all the rest.
Chapter Eighteen
Everyone was staring at me when I came back to the tent.
“Where’s your father?” Mom asked.
“He couldn’t stay long; something was going on at the office I guess.”
“Sounds like Raymond,” Grandma said.
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “We actually had a nice talk.” I sat down on a folding chair inside the tent, thinking of our heartfelt conversation. It was nice to catch up; it made me feel like I had missed out on so much, and I didn’t want to take any more time for granted. After some ice cream, I had even promised to unblock his number so we could start with communicating properly… Not that ice cream alone had sealed the deal, because that would be a juvenile notion. I was above that.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Grandma said.
“Has it been busy?” I asked.
“It’s been steady, but nothing that we couldn’t handle,” Layla said with a smile. “I think we’ve actually done very well today.”
I glanced over the table, admiring for the millionth time just how truly wonderful Grandma’s artwork was. Most of the pies were covered in three dimensional flowers and intricate lace-like patterns. Daffodils, daisies, and carnations were among a few easily recognizable flowers that decorated the surface and crusts. I loved watching the customer’s reactions as they studied the different pies.
“Are these cut from patterns?” A customer would ask. They were always so surprised when we said everything had been designed by hand.
The vendors had begun to pack away their leftover goods for the evening when the clock struck five. The man in the orange vest had started walking up and down the aisles with a megaphone in hand. He was making sure that we were packing up and clearing the sidewalk in a timely and orderly fashion.
“Have you heard from Luke yet?” Beck asked, emptying out the remaining water in the pitcher.
I shook my head. “He probably got held up at work. It is a Saturday, and you know how the mall gets on the weekend.”
“True,” she said.
“I think we’re going to head home,” Mom said, “are you guys staying behind for the bonfire?”
I nodded. “Yeah, we’re going to meet some friends.”
“Okay, just, try to be home at a decent hour,” she said.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about with this one Mrs. B,” Beck said.
Mom just pressed her lips into a tight smile and gave us both a hug. “Have fun,” she said.
We helped pack up the cars, and said our goodbyes before heading back to the beach. A crowd was gathering toward the pier, and people were starting to congregate on the dance floor. Music began to fill the air, spilling from the overhead speaker systems. To the right of the pier sat a large wooden pyre constructed in TP formation. Tables and tents selling alcohol were nearby, and I couldn’t help but to think the close proximity to the fire would be a recipe for disaster.
“I think I see Luke making his way over.” Beck pointed through the crowd and I spotted his blond locks blowing in the breeze. “I’m going to give you a minute. I’ll be down by the bonfire if you need me,” she said. She reached out to touch my shoulder, and then she was gone.
Luke had his hands tucked in his pockets, but an easy smile tugged his lips upward as he stopped in front of me. A simple flash of it, and I was relaxing.
“Hey, you made it,” I said.
“Sorry I was late. I got held up at work.”
“You didn’t really miss anything,” I told him.
“I wanted to see the booth though. I don’t suppose you saved me a slice of pie?” He flashed another grin.
“I’m sure there’s more at the farmhouse,” I said.
“You want to take a walk or something?” Luke asked.
“Sure.” We turned and started making our way across the beach, heading for the access ramp that led up to the pier.
The railing was lit by a string of party lights, trailing from one end of the pier to the other. The round globes with their soft, glossy glow had given the atmosphere a certain allurement; like you could almost forget where you were and what was going on around you. We walked to the end of the pier, and gazed out at the ocean below. The waves rolled in, forcing the slight sway of the support beams beneath. The last time I had stood here had been with Luke, the day of Gabriel’s funeral. Watching him now, I wondered if he was thinking of it, too.
A bench opened up, and Luke guided us over to sit. “I’m glad that you finally decided to talk to me,” I said. “I really missed you.”
“I just needed some time to make peace with everything,” he said. “I did, if you were wondering.”
“I was,” I said.
“I think I wanted us to be together for the wrong reasons,” he said a moment later. “I needed the distance to figure that out.”
“You’ve always taken care of me,” I told him. “I just wanted to try taking care of myself for once. I wanted to give myself a chance to be something different, and–”
“–You couldn’t do that with me.” He nodded. “I get that now.”
“I am sorry,” I told him.
“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked out anyway. You keep a messy fridge, and I just can’t have that kind of negativity in my life.”
I laughed. It was a musical sound that lifted my spirits; a sense of relief, and just like that, my best friend was back.
“You’re never going to let me live the sour cream incident down, are you?”
“Not a chance.” He laughed.
I shook my head, and bumped my shoulder into his playfully.
“You seem happier now, in all honesty.”
“I’m really starting to feel better,” I said.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.” He smiled, and squeezed my right knee gently, his thumb pressed against a scar. He let go.
“You know,” I said, “Beck will probably kill me for saying this, but, I sort of think she has a thing for you.”
Luke lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Scouts honor.” I held up two fingers.
“You know that doesn’t count since you were never in Girl Scouts.” He laughed.
“It’s s
till the truth,” I said, grinning.
I glanced over my shoulder toward the beach. I spotted Beck next to the bonfire; the butterflies on her dress shimmering in the firelight. Luke followed my gaze, and I watched as his eyes seemed to gleam–the way they had done that first day in the coffee shop. I thought I had seen something then, hidden, but now it was visible on the surface.
“You should go talk to her,” I suggested.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Luke stood beside me, straightening the hem of his shirt. “All right then. I guess I’ll go see about a girl in a butterfly dress.”
“Good luck,” I said, watching him go, knowing he wouldn’t need it.
I pushed up from the bench, and moved over to the railing to gaze at the ocean below. I felt better now, knowing that Luke and I were in a better place. I let my mind wander, watching the lighted globes dance in the breeze.
Behind me, I felt a familiar presence. Maybe it was his scent–the smell of it stirring in the wind, and catching my attention. It was almost as if he had the capability to make time stand still, and the rest of the world just sort of went on without us. I closed my eyes when I felt his arms circling my waist.
“You’re stunning,” he said, his breath at my ear. I melted.
I turned slightly from the railing to face him. Liam was dressed in a dark fitted pair of jeans, and a navy button-up. The sleeves were rolled, revealing the strong contour of his forearms. He looked nice, but to me, he always looked nice. He smiled at me, and I felt delicate wings tickling the inside of my rib cage. “Hey you,” I said, reaching for his hands. “You clean up nicely yourself,” I said, but he was pulling me into a hug and I was inhaling the clean scent of his skin and clothes. And just like that, I felt a peacefulness spreading through my being.
“How was the festival?” he asked, guiding me over to the corner of the railing, so we wouldn’t be in the way of those passing by.
“We sold everything,” I said, “so that’s a plus. Oh. There was this tent right across from ours that was selling those ornamental lawn geese outfits, and Grandma actually bought one for Luna.”
Finding Goodbye Page 25
