by Jenny Hale
She could see how hurt he was by this idea, and it was killing her. He was so wrong but what else was he supposed to think? She shook her head.
“If you believe them, then you do. I’m not going to try to beg you to listen to me, Callie. I fell for you in a big way, and I was willing to give you all my trust, but if you can’t do that, then I guess we’re at an impasse.”
She could feel him pulling away, and it terrified her. That, coupled with the overwhelming sadness she felt about the fact that he thought she couldn’t trust him over the papers, made her tear up. “I do trust you,” she blurted as he headed over to his side of the car. He stopped and turned around. “There’s a reason I’m struggling right now and it has nothing to do with you and me specifically.”
He walked back over to her. “Then what is it, Callie?”
“I… Can’t tell you.”
He took in a deep, short breath. “You can’t tell me,” he spat. “You just said you trust me but you can’t tell me.”
Defeat in her eyes, she said slowly, “I’ve learned a secret that could literally change everything. It’s so big that I was willing to not see you to keep from having to tell you.”
“Look. I think you and I are great together. But we can’t move forward until you can be honest with me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” His blue eyes bore down on her.
Her hands began to tremble, and her chest felt cold and hollow. “I don’t know…”
He tipped his head back in frustration, and it felt like she was losing him. The angry, gray sky above them seemed to echo her feelings. She didn’t blame him. How would they ever move forward unless she told him? She had two choices: tell him and hopefully work through it or lose him. But was that being selfish? He was asking her, but did he really want to know?
“You aren’t who you think you are.” The words floated between them as if they weren’t hers.
Luke’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
“I know where you got your artistic talent from.” Her whole body froze, and she had to will herself to keep going. There was no going back now.
His face crumpled. “What do you mean?”
She took a steadying breath. “Remember Frederick McFarlin?”
“Yes?” A group of people who had just parked walked past him but his eyes never left hers.
“He’s Alice McFarlin’s brother. The woman who used to own our place.” Her stomach ached but she pressed on. She’d want someone to tell her if she were in his position. “I found a journal of Alice McFarlin’s; it had entries about a boy who didn’t know his father.”
Luke was still, his face neutral.
“That boy turned out to be someone I know. And Frederick McFarlin—the artist—is his father.”
Skepticism slid across Luke’s face. “What are you trying to say, Callie?”
Callie swallowed.
“You think that some artist guy who gave up his kid is my actual father and you know this because I have a talent for art?”
“That’s not exactly what I’m saying. But what if I told you that he drew a pencil sketch of a woman and her little boy on the beach in Corolla. A woman who liked to take her little boy there.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy, Luke. Frederick knows you’re his son. You said yourself that your mom took you to that beach. Do you remember a man talking to your mother on one of those visits? Or how about the day you dropped a baseball in the street and Alice McFarlin picked it up for you? She mentioned that your birthday was October twentieth… Why do you think you kept seeing her at all your events as a child? She was your aunt.”
His eyes had a slight panic in them. “Callie, I need you to stop and think about what you’re implying. You’re implying that my mother was unfaithful to my father and that I am not a blood relative of the man who raised me my entire life. Get a good handle on this before you go any further.”
The fear in his eyes rattled her—he’d always been so sure of himself. She wanted to put her arms around him and make everything okay but she knew she couldn’t do anything to fix this or to change it. All they could do was face it.
“I have a handle on it. I talked with Frederick. He cried like a baby over you. He has been without his son your whole life.”
Luke didn’t speak, and she tried to read his face but he wasn’t allowing his thoughts to show. He stared at her and she waited, her hands shaking terribly. His thumbs started to bounce against his legs in agitation and he went around and got back into the car, their lunch date evidently over before it had begun. Callie climbed in beside him and shut her door. The radio buzzed with a quiet hum just low enough that she couldn’t make out the words, the hurricane warnings still coming in. She ignored it and focused on Luke, waiting for his response. There was nothing more she could say.
He started the car and drove away in silence. After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at The Beachcomber. She got out of the car when he did. He spun around and walked toward her but his face took her aback. “I can’t believe I let this happen,” he said.
“What?”
He brushed past her and headed for the beach. She clambered after him.
When they got to the back yard, he spun around. “This is all a way to get Aiden the company, isn’t it?” He shook his head, anger in his eyes. “If that got out, God knows what the papers would say. They’d have a field day. But that’s what you all planned, isn’t it? So that Aiden would get what he’s wanted all these years?” He stormed off again.
“Where are you going?” was all she could manage, the shock of his interpretation of her message causing her so much confusion that she was having trouble finding her words.
He continued walking and she couldn’t catch him, his angry stride so much longer and quicker than hers.
Callie jumped onto the new walkway, stopping only briefly to steady herself, her heart pounding like a snare drum. She got to the bottom and ran onto the sand. “Luke!” she called, but he didn’t turn around. “Luke!” she called again.
He was down by the surf and she ran after him, stumbling on the hot sand, her mind racing. Luke refused to turn around, his pace swift as he walked at a clip. She was nearly sprinting, the clouds overhead dark as if they’d explode with rain any minute. The wild wind tore through her hair.
“Olivia and Aiden don’t even know!” she yelled, stopping to catch her breath, feeling hopeless. She watched Luke slow down, her breathing heavy, and saw him stop, his back to her. Callie willed him to turn around. The very last thing she wanted was for him to think she’d betrayed him in some way, because she’d never do that.
Slowly, he turned to face her. They stood, a ways apart, as a couple crossed in between them, headed down the beach. Callie ignored their uncomfortable smiles. Luke didn’t move. She started to walk toward him carefully, trying to let him know with her stride that she didn’t mean any harm. She didn’t run to him, she just walked, and the closer she got the clearer his face became until she could see the tears in his eyes. And she knew that he believed her. The more he’d run, the more he’d processed it. When she reached him, she could feel the pain that he felt because she knew that kind of pain. She put her hands on his face for a moment, telling him with her silence that she’d be there for him. He pulled away from her and started toward the house.
“Luke,” she called.
“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head as if he were trying to shake out the information he’d just learned. “I want to shout at my mother for being unfaithful. And then I wonder, does my father—the one who raised me—know? Is that why he’s been so hard on me my whole life? Is that why he doesn’t want me running the business? But I’d never ask him that, so I’m left to wonder. I feel like an outsider in my own family.” He looked down at her.
“Luke,” she said gently.
He turned away. “My life is a farce. I don’t deserve to have my father’s business. I’m not his son! I might as well be a stranger. Aiden’
s bloodlines are real. No wonder my father would rather give it to him.”
“He’s never said that, I’m sure. And your life is the same as it has always been,” she said to his back. “You haven’t changed at all. Edward was the one who raised you. He instilled his work ethic in you. He taught you how to be a man. He is no less of a father to you now than he has always been. But you’re right; your bloodlines belong to someone else. And he wasn’t a part of your life. But he, too, is a good man. He mourns your absence in his life still to this day. Wouldn’t you rather know him than not know him?”
Luke still hadn’t turned around. He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation.
“Luke, we don’t have to solve it all right now.”
He started walking away. “I can’t stay. I don’t want to talk anymore. It’s just too complicated.”
She let him go.
Twenty
Callie woke to dreary skies through her window. She turned over to check her clock, but the screen was black. With a yawn, she got up and examined the plug. It was plugged in. Frederick had asked if he could stay over since he was still working on the mural, and he couldn’t face going over to his cottage yet. Callie had agreed to let him stay and, not wanting to bring the subject of Luke up anymore, she’d turned in early so she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to tell him what she’d told Luke, or Luke’s reaction. She didn’t want to meddle anymore.
She’d been up all night thinking about yesterday, replaying every word she’d said, wondering if she could’ve handled it any differently. She needed her grandmother. She’d know what to do. Feeling completely lost, she rubbed her sore shoulder, a pinch having formed in the night, threw on some clothes, ran her fingers through her hair and headed downstairs, dread building with every step. She’d have to face Frederick and she had no idea what to say to him. On her way to the kitchen, she passed him, asleep on the sofa, and let out a sigh of relief that she’d at least have time to wake up before she faced him.
Through the large window black clouds swirled; they wouldn’t get much work done outside today. The building crew had today off anyway, so it was just Olivia, Wyatt, Callie, and Frederick.
Her eyes aching, she loaded the coffee maker and hit start. But her shoulders slumped when she realized that the coffee maker didn’t have power either. She tried the lights—nothing. Then she vaguely remembered the crew saying they were cutting the power to do the electrical work on the back deck. Had they not turned it back on before they left? She sat down and looked out at the ocean.
“I texted Aiden,” Olivia whispered, startling her.
Callie threw her hand to her chest to steady herself, whipping around from the window, rain beginning to lash at the glass.
“Sorry.” Olivia sat down next to Callie at the table. “The crew was in a hurry to get things wrapped up—having spent a very long day—and I think they forgot to turn the power back on. I’d been outside with Wyatt until late, and we both just came in quietly so as not to wake up Frederick and went to bed. I checked my phone a few minutes ago to see if Aiden had texted back, and it’s dead. I forgot to charge it. Maybe we can use your phone.”
Callie rubbed her eyes and nodded, her head starting to throb.
There was a loud, pounding knock on the door, and both Callie and Olivia jumped. Callie dashed to it before it woke Frederick and Wyatt. The pounding started again, stopping only as she unlocked the door, her fingers fumbling with the lock. She opened it. Luke and Aiden were on the front porch.
“They say we should evacuate,” Luke said, without even a hello. That soft, sweet voice she knew so well, the affection in his eyes when he looked at her—gone. “The hurricane is headed this way. We couldn’t get you on the phone. Aiden’s been texting all morning.”
“We have no power and Olivia’s phone is dead. Mine’s upstairs.” She moved aside to let them in, struggling to make sense of all the commotion having just woken up, her thoughts so preoccupied with everything else that she almost couldn’t compute what he was saying.
They stayed where they were, the wind whipping around them. “Callie. If they say evacuate, we need to do it, and quick,” Luke said, breaking eye contact to shoot off a text on his own phone. “We’re getting everyone together and I’ll find somewhere to stay. We need to hurry, though, before everything is booked up. Start packing, keep your phone with you, and if the power comes back on, plug it in. I’ll be back to get you.”
“Okay,” she said, alarm zinging through her. She locked eyes with Luke. “Frederick’s here,” she said, her head feeling like it was full of water from the stress. “Should he come with us?”
In the infinitesimal pause that followed, she could see a million thoughts run across Luke’s face. Finally, he nodded. “What about Gladys?”
“She’s already gone. She went to her daughter’s house.”
“Okay. You have about thirty minutes,” he said, all business.
As Luke left, Callie yanked Gladys’s plant inside and then paced in circles for a minute, trying to figure out what to do first. She ran in to tell Olivia but she was already heading upstairs.
“I heard,” she said.
They entered their rooms and pulled out the suitcases, Callie filling one for herself and Olivia throwing items for her and Wyatt into the other one. They packed clothes, socks, underwear, toiletries, toys for Wyatt, and anything else in their paths that would fit.
Callie grabbed the stack of laundry that was still in the hallway where she’d folded it and divided it among the suitcases. She got all her jewelry and her family photo album with old photos of her parents and her grandmother and stuffed them into the smaller bag, then zipped it up and headed downstairs. With a quick swipe, she took Luke’s painting off the wall and leaned it against the suitcase.
Callie was packing food into the cooler when Frederick walked in.
“What’s all the commotion?” he asked.
“I was going to wake you in just a minute. The hurricane is coming our way. Luke’s getting his family. We’re all evacuating together. I’m packing enough food for you too. Wyatt, I packed your Legos and your gears building set. I’ve also got your iPad,” she said as Wyatt shuffled in.
Olivia told Wyatt to come with her and check to make sure he had everything he thought he’d need, leaving Frederick in the kitchen. He started helping Callie put food in bags. “Luke’s coming back?” he asked as he filled a paper grocery bag with bread and chips.
“Yes,” she said, asking him with her eyes to be okay with it. She checked her phone—no messages.
He nodded and went back to packing, dropping a box of microwave popcorn into a paper sack.
Callie turned the battery-operated radio on. “If you live in coastal areas—I’m speaking to those in Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, Nags Head, Rodanthe, Waves, all the way down to Hatteras—it’s advised, if you can, to pack up valuables and family memorabilia. The swells are going to get quite high and the amount of damage we’re looking at could be serious.”
She looked at Frederick as if he could provide some relief for her worry, but even though he’d probably experienced something like this before, he couldn’t offer much more than to say, “This house has weathered many hurricanes. It’s just another storm, Callie. Tell yourself that.”
By the time they had their bags packed, Callie was wondering how she’d get it all, along with the cooler, in the trunk of her car. Luke came driving in with another SUV behind him. “Don’t take your car,” he said, getting out. “We can go in mine. It’s bigger, so we can get more into it. Mom and Juliette are in the car behind me with Mitchell. She’s got two rows of seats. Wyatt and Mitchell can sit in the very back.”
Aiden, who had started packing the cars, came out with more bags.
“Aiden and Olivia can ride with Mom, and you and Frederick ride with me,” Luke told them as he began to transfer Callie’s things from her trunk to his vehicle. He popped the back open—it was already full. He move
d his bags to one side to make room for the cooler. “I got three rooms at The Berkeley in Richmond,” Luke said, shifting one of his suitcases. “I reserved all they had left.” With a pause, he looked down at his painting, blinking for a moment, his face neutral. He put it in the back.
“We can make it work,” Aiden said over his shoulder as he headed inside one more time.
Frederick came out and climbed right in with his things as Olivia and Wyatt walked briskly over toward Lillian, each lugging a suitcase. Luke jogged toward them and took both bags, lifting them easily. He slid them into the back while Olivia helped Wyatt into Lillian’s SUV.
“Hop in,” Luke told Callie, opening the back door. “Let’s try to get ahead of the crowd. Anything else inside that you need?”
Luke looked around, as the group offered a collective “no” from their various locations with head-shaking and worried glances. Callie couldn’t help but feel safe watching Luke take charge. He was calm, direct, and focused, and it set her racing heart and flooded mind at ease. She was so worried about their safety that she didn’t allow herself to think about the fact that they wouldn’t have the funds or time to repair any major damage from this storm or that Frederick was coming along and she had no idea how that would work. She got in the SUV and shut the door, the others doing the same. Luke jogged around and climbed in the driver’s side.
Callie turned back to take one last look at The Beachcomber before they drove away.
Twenty-One
By the time they’d made the almost four-hour trek into Richmond, it was nearly dinnertime, and they were all hungry and tired from driving. The journey had been mostly silent, the only sound being the radio spewing updates—the same information over and over until the station received new weather data, which was about once an hour.
