With a shrug, he continues trailing his mouth along my skin. “It’s something my family always says.”
“Because one of you isn’t on Earth at the time?” A funny feeling tickles my gut.
“Right, because we’re aliens.” His laughter bursts out of him as he climbs over me. “Lucy, what am I going to do with you?”
“Anything is possible,” I tell him, laughing between the words as he tickles me.
“Believe in the impossible.”
And I do.
Because I’ve fallen in love with Boone.
TINFOIL HEART IS a story about choosing love and letting go of the past, especially the beliefs that hold us back from living our best lives. We create our realities based on what we believe is true about ourselves, others, and the world we live in.
In that light, I’m giving you two epilogues. Two different truths about Lucy and Boone.
One is for skeptics.
One is for believers.
Read both and then decide for yourself which one you believe is true.
xo
Daisy
Go to Epilogue for Skeptics
Go to Epilogue for Believers
Two months later . . .
WANDA AND I are preparing tables for the morning rush. Over the months, we’ve settled into a comfortable routine and friendship.
She’s old enough to be my mother, but I think of her as more of a friend.
Before I met Shari, she was my only friend in Roswell.
Between her, Tony, Shari, Ray, and Boone, I now have a friend family. I’m including Tony because he’s the cranky relative you invite to all of the family gatherings because he shows up, mans the grill, and feeds everyone, grumbling the entire time. He’s also the one you want on your side if anyone does you wrong. Thankfully, he’s never threatened Boone with the bat, or had reason to.
Zed’s more like the weird cousin you pretend isn’t related by blood.
I’m still working five days a week waitressing. Just because my boyfriend owns half of the county doesn’t mean I’m quitting and watching telenovelas all day with Tony’s mom and aunts. Every once in a while, I’ll pick up a shift or two at the Burger Joint with Shari. She’s offered me a job more than once, but for now, I’m good at the diner.
I’m going to look into getting my master’s degree online so I can apply for teaching jobs in the school district. Finally put my history degree to work. Use my research powers for good and not evil.
I have a little money saved already. Not paying a retainer on private investigators means I can sock some away as savings.
I’ve given up on finding out what happened. The last investigator suggested my dad was using an alias when he married my mother. He said for a few grand more, he could possibly get a lead through a guy he knew in the black market of selling stolen social security numbers.
I turned him down.
And I’m okay.
More than okay.
I’m happy.
Wanda pours us both mugs of coffee. “How long have you been working here?”
“I started in February.” I count out the months in my head. “Eight months, give or take a couple of days. Why?”
“No reason. It’s nice to see you finally settling in.” She gives me a motherly look of pride. Today’s lipstick is a bright coral.
“I guess I am.” I grin at her. I do that a lot these days. I no longer have to fake being chipper and upbeat. I’m annoyingly happy.
“You were so lost when you arrived. Always asking about aliens and talking about crazy conspiracy theories. I was worried you’d be indoctrinated into one of the UFO cults and end up eating poisoned pudding.” Wanda touches my arm.
“I was pretty obsessed, wasn’t I?” Cringing, I wrinkle my nose. “And I do like pudding, so you were right to worry about me.”
“When you kept asking if anyone had direct information about the crashes, I asked Zed if he’d take you under his wing. Keep an eye on you so you didn’t fall in with the crazies.”
“You did? Does everyone know Zed?” It’s a small town, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who gets out much.
“Known him most of my life. We were in high school together. But he’s a few years older.”
“So you’re familiar with his work at the Center?” I question her, trying not to stare at the smudge of coral lipstick on her teeth.
“What center?” she asks, her eyes wide with confusion.
“Zed’s organization?” Not wanting to betray his confidence, I don’t tell her the name or location.
“I thought he was a therapist. Last I knew at least. Figured he could help you through your grief over your momma.”
“He told me he retired.” I’m so confused.
She frowns and two parallel lines appear between her eyebrows. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask his wife next time I’m at the hair salon.”
Hold all the horses. In shock, I screech, “Zed’s married?”
Wanda pats her fluffy hair. “His wife does my do. They have a couple of kids, too, but they’re out on their own now. Moved to California. Or one of the Carolinas. I can’t keep track.”
“Wow. I totally misjudged him.”
“You two going to gossip all morning or can we serve some breakfast to customers?” Tony shouts from the kitchen.
I laugh and flip on the lights. Wanda unlocks the front doors.
The rest of the morning my mind reels from the information bomb she dropped on me.
Boone’s at meetings today, so I’ll have to wait until I get off work to ask him about Wanda’s version of events.
At dinner with Boone, I bring up my conversation with Wanda.
“Did you know Zed’s married?” I swirl my fork through the red enchilada sauce on my plate.
“Sure.” He shrugs like this is common knowledge. “Why?”
“I thought he lived in his parents’ basement.”
With a shake of his head, he chuckles at me. “Did you ever ask him?”
“No, because I thought it would be an invasion of his privacy. And he might be embarrassed he still lived with his mother.”
“Why would you think that?” He smothers his smile with his hand.
“Because he’s the king of the alien conspiracy theorists.”
“Stereotype, much?” he asks, dipping his head.
I stand by my observation and he can give me judging-eyes all he wants. “Fitting. He talked about using the computers at the library and all sorts of paranoid ideas about the government watching him.”
“He piled it on a little thick for your benefit.” Laughing, he places his fork and knife across his plate.
“What does that mean?”
“Truth?” His smile fades as he becomes serious.
“Emotionless facts, please.” His switch from laughter to somber worries me.
“After Wanda introduced you to Zed, he called me and asked for my help.”
Knowing this information already, I nod and say, “Right, he wanted you to keep an eye on me at the diner. You told me that part already.”
“There’s more to it. Said he wanted to help you get over your missing father.”
“What?” My voice lifts with surprise.
Boone carries on, calmly explaining, “He wanted to know if I could help him set up an office downtown where he could have you intern. He came up with the ridiculous The Ufology and Universal Intelligent Life Center name. I didn’t think you’d buy it, but you did.”
“He doesn’t research aliens and UFOs?” I’m officially confused.
He flinches when he looks into my eyes. “He does, but not above the old theater. He has an outbuilding on his property he turned into an archive and office. He’s as fascinated with the conspiracy theories as you are.”
My whole version of events implodes. “Why would you all lie to me?”
“No one lied to you. Wanda and Zed liked you and wanted to help you find your way.”
Anger s
lams into me so hard, I set my butter knife as far away on the table as I can so I won’t be tempted to stab him. “So you knew my whole sad sack life story before we ever spoke? My dad’s leaving and my family all dying?”
He holds up his hands in the universal gesture for innocence. “No, I swear I didn’t know anything more than you were looking for answers in Roswell.”
I throw some major shade at him. “How can I believe you?”
“Because you love me and love involves trust.”
“Trust no one.” I give him the stink eye. “Did Shari know?”
“Only what you’ve told her. She thought it was weird I was driving down to the Rig to have breakfast every morning. It’s over an hour drive each way, as you know.”
I’ve made the same trip almost every weekend since I got lost and then found Boone’s ranch. During the week, we alternate between my casita and his new house in the same neighborhood as Shari’s. I even bought an adult-sized couch made in this century for the living room. The red velvet loveseat is now in my bedroom.
“Since tonight’s conversation theme is all about shattering Lucy’s delusions, how do you think I knew about your ranch’s brand?”
He drags a finger over his smooth upper lip. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
“And?” I ask, bracing for some weird twist of fate story.
“You said your dad was from New Mexico, right?”
Nodding, I roll my hand to keep him talking.
“Stick with me, okay? Did you ever visit your grandparents down here? Maybe take a family road trip when you were little? The symbol shows up on our gates and fencing, even the cattle have it branded on their sides. Is it possible you saw it and drew it on the only paper you had available?”
I scrunch up my forehead. “I don’t know. I have no memory of being down here before I moved. Mom destroyed most of the pictures with him. His father died when he was little, and I think his mother passed when I was seven or eight, before he left, I do remember that.”
“But is it possible, even if you don’t remember?” he says, patiently.
“I suppose it’s not impossible,” I mumble. “I have more questions.”
“Ask away.”
“Have you ever worked a day in an oil field in your life?” I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.
His hazel eyes crinkle with amusement. “I’ve done work in an oil field, but no, I’ve never been an oil worker. Most of the guys at the Rig work on land leased from my family.”
“And the constant staring at your phone and the television every morning?”
“Watching commodity prices and making trades. Or coming up with clever things to say to you to get your attention. I’d type them out in the notes app and then save them.”
“You did not.” Wanting proof, I reach for his phone on the table but he’s too fast for me. “You have freakishly fast reflexes, you know that, right?”
“I played baseball for a long time. Always keep your eye on the ball.” He tucks his phone into the pocket of his shirt—the chambray one he stole back from me after I stole it from him.
“You won’t show me the love notes?” I pretend to pout even though I know my powers don’t work on him. “I don’t believe you. The first time we spoke more than a few words was when you ordered corned beef hash. That’s the brilliant opener you came up with?”
“It worked, didn’t it? Simple and brilliant.” He winks at me. “And I’m not going to show you the notes. A man should have some secrets.”
“That reminds me.” Pushing back from the table, I tell him to hold on for a minute. “Look what I received in the mail today.”
I hand him the envelope with a law firm’s name as the return address.
“What is it?” Not waiting for me to explain, he reads the single piece of paper and his eyes widen. “Jim left you something in his will?”
“Apparently, I get the contents of his safety deposit box. Want to go to the bank tomorrow afternoon with me and find out what’s inside? Maybe it’s the real alien autopsy video. Or material from the debris field. Or a million dollars.”
“Which one do you want it to be?” he asks, smiling at me. “Until you open the box, the possibilities are endless.”
“I’ll go with option C. A million dollars. Imagine what I could do with that kind of money,” I say, my mood shifting back to happy, its new normal.
“Tell me how you’d spend it.”
“The possibilities are endless. New cars for me and Wanda because ours are old and falling apart. Get my master’s degree so I can teach. Travel more. Volunteer as a Big Sister or maybe get licensed to be a foster parent to other orphans. Or train to be a grief counselor. I’ve had enough experience with death and grief, I should put it to good use.”
“You can do that all now. I have the money.” He means it.
“I imagine you do, but I don’t want you to develop a complex I’m only using you for your handsome face and your millions. Total gold digger material right here.” I sweep a hand from my messy bun down over my Target dress and mustard-colored old man cardigan. “Plus, I’m really in it for your hot body and stamina.”
“No wonder Jim left you something. He fell for your charms.” He gives me a quick peck.
My heart squeezes with the memory of Jim’s passing.
Inside of the private room at the bank, I hesitate to open the box.
Boone squeezes my thigh above my knee. “You don’t have to find out today. Rent the box under your name and wait until you’re ready.”
His suggestion is completely reasonable, but I’m too curious to put this off.
Stuff in the long narrow box is a stack of letters, a few silver dollar coins, and an engagement ring with a small, but sparkly, round solitaire diamond.
The top envelope is addressed to Miss Lucy Wesley Halliday.
“I don’t think I ever told him my middle name,” I say.
“Is he proposing?” Boone picks up the ring between two fingers like he’s examining a scorpion that might sting him any second.
“Worried you have competition?” I pluck the ring from him and slip it on my right index finger. The small, gold circle won’t pass my second knuckle.
The beautiful green of his eyes flares and he sets his jaw. “If anyone is going to put a ring on your finger, it’s going to me.”
I kiss him because I want to, and I can.
“Let’s see what Jim has to say.” I tear a corner of the envelope and slip out a piece of yellow, lined paper.
As I read, tears well in my eyes. I’ve cried a lot in the past three months. Who knew happiness came with endless waterworks?
“What does it say?” Boone rests his chin on my shoulder in an attempt to read the note.
“Dear Lucy, thanks for the cookies,” I read aloud.
“That’s it?” he asks, incredulous.
“No, there’s more.” I clear my throat. “You’re probably surprised I left you anything, given we didn’t talk all that much. When I heard your dad left you as a kid, I changed my will to make sure you received the contents of this box.
“We all have a stories we tell about our lives. In your story I was a side character, your neighbor, a lonely, old Veteran with no family. But I had a whole life before our paths crossed. Why am I telling you this? Well, you remind me of my own daughter. Bet you didn’t know I once had a family, too. Wife left me and took our daughter. Never saw them again, and didn’t go looking for them either. Figured she had a good reason to do what she did. I always hoped my daughter would want to know me when she got older, but unlike you, she didn’t look for me.”
I stop reading as tears thicken my throat.
Boone slips the paper from my hands and drapes his arm around my shoulders, then continues where I left off. “These envelopes are letters I wrote to my little girl but didn’t send given I had no idea where to mail them. I was thinking you might want to read them to get a different perspective on your life. I can’t make righ
t what your dad did by leaving, but if he had a beating heart, he loved you. A lot of us men don’t know how to express ourselves when it comes to emotions, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have them.
“If you’re still reading these ramblings of an old guy, trust me when I tell you your dad loved you. You were loved, Lucy. The ring belonged to my mother and I held onto it in hopes of one day giving it to my daughter. I’d like you to have it now. Keep it if you want. Or pawn the ring and the coins if you need the money. They’re yours now. I hope you have a good life and find the love you’re looking for. Sincerely yours, Jim.”
Boone wipes his eyes.
“No, you can’t cry, too.” I sniff and rub my hands over my wet cheeks. “You’re supposed to be a rock of emotionless facts in moments like these.”
“He’s right, you know.” Boone clears his throat.
Unlike me, a current factory of tears and snot and ugly cry face, he still looks composed and handsome.
“About which part?” I ask
“You are loved and wanted, Lucy.”
“And I love you,” I manage to say without sobbing.
He gives me the softest kiss, not seeming to mind the current state of my face.
“I love you. I’m the luckiest man in the world because I’m the one who gets to be the one you love.”
I used to compare myself to a potted plant, but now I transplanted myself, and I’m putting down roots.
I may not have found the answers to the questions that brought me here.
What I did find in this quirky desert town is more than I ever dreamed. I’ve found a home, a new family, and a hope for the future. Most importantly, I’ve found love.
Two months later . . .
WANDA AND I are preparing tables for the morning rush. Over the months, we’ve settled into a comfortable routine and friendship.
She’s old enough to be my mother, but I think of her as more of a friend.
Before I met Shari, she was my only friend in Roswell.
Between her, Tony, Shari, Ray, and Boone, I now have a friend family. I’m including Tony because he’s the cranky relative you invite to all of the family gatherings because he shows up, mans the grill, and feeds everyone, grumbling the entire time. He’s also the one you want on your side if anyone does you wrong. Thankfully, he’s never threatened Boone with the bat, or had reason to.
Tinfoil Heart Page 22
