by Marta Brown
I glance at Mom and Sam, standing next to the balloons, and I don’t think I’ve seen her so happy in my life, she looks on the verge of tears. The good kind. I turn to Grandpa Frank and see nothing but pride bursting out of every hard earned wrinkle on his face he’s smiling so big.
Everyone’s looking at me like they’re waiting for me to join the party, but I feel like my invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.
“Yale or bust, right, kiddo?” Grandpa says, and it’s not until that very second that it all clicks.
“I can afford Yale,” I choke out. “I. Can. Afford. Yale.”
“You can afford Yale,” Grandpa replies, patting me on the shoulder, the tears in my mom’s eyes finally pouring over.
I look at all their smiling faces and then at the check in my shaking hand, completely overwhelmed by their love and support.
“I…I can’t take this,” I say softly, stopping everyone in their tracks.
“Lane, don’t be silly.” Mom waves dismissively. “Come eat some cake, and then you need to start packing,” she says, joy dripping off each word.
I shake my head. “No, I’m serious. I can’t. This money belongs to you and Grandpa. You paid the insurance and Grandpa started restoring that car before I knew the difference between a lug wrench and a lug nut. I can’t take it. It would help out here too much.” I know I’m right and so do they.
Grandpa gives Mom a quick look before scuffing his feet across the linoleum in our entrance way. He takes his cardigan from the peg, slips it on, and opens the door. “Come on outside and let’s have a talk, okay?”
“Grandpa…”
“Come on,” he says, ushering me outside to the front porch. I help him take a seat in one of our white washed Adirondack chairs before leaning against the porch railing and crossing my arms.
“Grandpa, I can’t take the money.” I’m firm. Decided. It’s too much and he and Mom need it.
He squints up at me so I move to block the early evening sun from his eyes. “My boy, you’re not taking the money, the money is yours.”
“But Grandpa that money could really help out around here. You and Mom wouldn’t have to worry about the bills, and you could even put in that guest bathroom for Irene we’re always talking about.”
“Come sit.” He reaches over and pats the chair next to him.
When I do he leans his body forward, and takes my hands in his. “Lane, I want you to listen close to me. Okay? You are going to take this money and go to that school and have the best four years of your life.”
“But…” I start then stop when he gives my hand a firm squeeze.
“No buts, mister. Now listen. Look at me Lane, I’m nothing but an old man whose body is sluggish and whose mind is slowly, but surely, losing the most precious gift we have in this life. Our memories.” He takes a shallow breath and his gaze is unfocused for a brief moment, like he’s searching for the very memories that have seemed to slip away.
He clears his throat then waves his hand around, gesturing to the house. “You could insist we use that money for doctor bills and house renovations, Lane, but let me tell you something,” he says, and there’s an edge of seriousness in his otherwise easygoing tone. “I’m not missing the money I did or didn’t have in this life.”
His eyes brighten and a slow smile spreads across his face, and it reminds me of the way he use to smile at my grandma when she was still alive. “I promise you, a thousand guest bathrooms in a mansion on the water, wouldn’t be worth a single penny if I didn’t have the memory of my first date with your grandma, or the smell of your mother’s tiny peach fuzz head when we brought her home from the hospital, or the memories I have of us, spending our afternoons working on that car together.
Lane, I know you want to look out for me and your mom, but that’s our job. This is your money, and trust me, it will provide you with so much more than just a path to a brighter future—it’ll also afford you with memories that’ll last a life time.” His eyes fill with tears and I have to choke back my own. “So, no more buts about it,” he says sternly, shaking a finger at me, as a small tear rolls down his smiling face. “You, my boy, are going to go to that school, have the time of your life and make me the proudest, richest man on this very island.”
I shut my eyes and let my favorite memories flood my mind. Grandma singing softly as she washed dishes in the sink while Grandpa whistled along, in perfect harmony, drying them off. Sitting on Mom’s lap as a child while she read me bed time stories, no matter how tired she was from a long day at work, or from having to be both parents for me. And then Ashley, smiling, with her legs propped up on the window and her feet dangling in the air on our trip home from Boston. Carefree and in love.
He’s right. I’d bet all the money in the world for just one of those moments, let alone them all.
I open my eyes and try to clear the lump from my throat, but it’s no use. I give up and wrap my arms around him like a child. Unrestrained.
“I’ll make memories for the both of us, Grandpa,” I whisper against his shoulder, a single tear running down my face as well.
“Ahhhh, that’s my boy,” he says, hugging me back. “That’s my boy.”
Chapter 32
Ashley
The last two weeks have been a total blur of visits with Andrew in the hospital, time spent with my parents and packing to move away from home for the next year of my life. But today’s the day.
I toss my very last bag into the backseat then give my parents one last hug, trying to hold back my tears, but failing miserably, then hop in the car.
The half day drive flies by in a flash of nervousness and excitement, and as I turn the corner onto the tree lined street, flanked by century old brick dormitories and grassy lawns, I let myself hope this will be a new beginning.
I step out of the car and clutch the keys tight in my hand as my heart beats double time in my chest. As I walk toward the freshman dorms, I’m surrounded by ivy covered brick buildings and students milling around, laughing and studying. It’s so beautiful. I can definitely see myself here, happy. Saturday afternoon’s lying in the grass, being tucked into a big leather chair in the library reading, or drinking hot chocolate inside a small dorm room, watching fresh snow blanket the campus. A home away from home.
I stop short of the front entrance to the dormitory when I find exactly what I’m looking for just outside. I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves while I steal an uninterrupted moment to look at him, his back propped up against an old oak tree engrossed in a book.
Lane.
I can’t wait a second longer; I’ve already waited too long.
“Hey, Eli?” I call out across the grassy yard, “I think this is yours.” I swing a set of car keys around my index finger and smile at the boy I love.
Lane raises his head, and just like that, all my nervous energy is gone, replaced with an overwhelming feeling of peace when our eyes meet. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and who I’m supposed to be with.
With a cautious smile on his face, he shuts the book and drops it to the ground before standing up, our eyes never leaving one another.
“You’re here.” He takes a tentative step forward then stops and I have to keep myself from running into his arms. “I’ve…looked for you on campus every since I got here,” he admits, shoving his hands into his pockets, his eyes vulnerable.
Here it goes.
“I actually just stopped by because you left something at home that belongs to you.”
He looks confused. “I didn’t even have a bedroom, all of my belongings fit into two duffle bags and one cardboard box. What could I have possibly left behind?”
“Me?” I say, biting my lip.
Lane stands as still as a statue, staring at me in silence for what feels like forever. Then, in a whirl of movement, he closes the space between us, picks me up and spins me around, exactly the same way he did at the ferry dock before our trip to Boston.
The feeling of
being in his arms again is indescribable, and I never want this feeling to go away again. Ever.
“I’m so sorry, Lane,” I whisper as he sets me down. “Can you ever forgive me?”
He cups my face in his hands, his eyes fastened on mine, and then, without a word, I get the answer I was hoping for. Lane pushes his hands into my hair and pulls me into a kiss that tells me everything I need to know.
“I love you so much,” Lane murmurs against my lips and then again and again after each kiss he leaves on my cheeks, along my jaw, down my neck and back up again, until finally our foreheads are pressed together and we’re both out of breath.
“I love you too,” I whisper before pressing our lips together again. “I love you too.”
I loop my arms around his neck, unintentionally causing the keys in my hand to jingle, and a silly grin spreads across my face. “Oh yeah,” I say, so swept away in the moment I almost forgot his real surprise. “I wasn’t the only thing you left at home.” I hand him the key ring with the L and A dangling amongst the keys. “Here.” I smile.
“Wow, my keys. I hadn’t even thought about them, guess I figured they were burned up or sitting in some junk yard with what was left of my car.” He shrugs. “Thank you.” He rubs his thumb across the brand new shiny gold letter A until slowly it dawns on him that the old letters were silver. “Wait…these aren’t my keys,” he says, with the cutest confused look on his face.
“Are you sure about that?” I wink then step out of his way, giving him a clear view to where I just parked his car.
I hear him suck in a sharp breath and then nothing. Total silence. I look at him, worried by his complete stillness, but all my worries disappear when I see his face. He’s lit up like the fourth of July.
“What? I mean…what?” he stammers, slack jawed and I can’t help but laugh.
Wide eyed and speechless Lane walks slowly down the sidewalk. He tosses me a look over his shoulder before stopping in front of the cherry red convertible, an almost exact match to his old car.
“But how?”
“My dad wanted to find a way to say thank you for what you did for Andrew. He and Grandpa Frank went into Boston last weekend to get it for you,” I say, bouncing on my toes.
“Your dad did this…for me?” he asks bewildered. “And he took Grandpa?”
I nod smiling. “Dad said they had a great time. He even let Grandpa Frank drive it for a little bit on the way home. It was only on a side road, but you should have heard Grandpa Frank bragging about driving when they got back. Irene was so mad she smacked my dad repeatedly on the arm while your mom and I couldn’t stop laughing. Grandpa Frank just sat in his favorite chair smiling. It was priceless.”
“You and my mom?” Lane asks, his eyes suddenly glossy. “And Grandpa Frank and Irene?”
“They’re so proud of you, Lane. We all are.”
He clears his throat and blinks back his emotions. “Thank you,” he says, taking my hand in his. “And please thank your father. This is too much.”
“Well, you have exactly twelve hours before he comes to get me, so you can thank him yourself.”
“Wait. Comes and gets you?” Lane’s simple question is laced with sadness as his shoulders slump. “But I just got you back. Where are you going?”
I try to put on my best poker face, but I can hardly keep the smile at bay.
“Boston.”
I watch as his face slowly lights up with understanding. “You got in?” he asks so loudly it’s almost a shout.
I nod my head, smiling from ear to ear, and just like that, I’m back up off the ground and spinning again.
“You got in! Whoo hooo!” Lane shouts while I giggle uncontrollably in his arms.
“Hey! Shut it up down there, some of us are trying to study. This is Yale,” someone yells from a dorm room window above us, before slamming it shut.
Lane and I both fall into the grass, dizzy and laughing. “You got in,” he says again, this time so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”
“I found out the day after the accident. I wanted to call and tell you so badly but…” I trail off remembering how confused and upset I’d felt at the time.
“It’s okay, baby, I understand,” he says, and the way he smiles at me, I know he means it.
“It took me a few days to get up the courage to tell my parents, but when I did they weren’t mad at all. They were really proud of me actually.” I pick at the grass thinking about the days following the accident, stuck in that tiny hospital room hoping and praying with my parents that Andrew would recover. “We really talked for the first time in years, about my hopes and dreams for the future, especially about dancing. I think the thought of losing Andrew made us all realize life is too short. We agreed to work harder on building a relationship where we can be open and honest with one another, and I haven’t felt this close to my parents since I was a kid. It was amazing, Lane.”
“Wow. That is amazing. I’m so happy for you, baby.” Lane tucks a stray curl behind my ear then leans in and gives me a soft peck that leaves me wanting more.
“A peck? You did hear me, right? I only have twelve hours before I have to leave,” I say with a flirty smile.
I’ve missed feeling his arms wrapped around me, and his lips on mine, and I don’t want to wait another second. I want to be with him, alone.
Before I can say another word I’m whipped up off the ground and hoisted over Lane’s shoulder. Apparently, I’m not the only one who wants to be alone. With blood rushing to my head, I kick my legs in the air and squeal, happier than I have ever been as he runs with me up the walk and into his dormitory.
There will be plenty of time to figure out which weekends he’ll come to visit me in Boston and which weekends I’ll come here and spend lazy Saturday afternoons in the grass, or reading in the library, or drinking hot cocoa in the winter, but the one thing I know for sure is I’ll be doing them with Lane.
Epilogue
Lane
“Franklin Lane McCarthy.”
I take a deep breath then step onto the stage. The dean of students hands me my diploma and shakes my hand simultaneously, his firm grip helping me to feel grounded. I did it. Yale. Summa cum laude.
The flash of a camera leaves me with spots in my eyes that I try and blink away while I continue to walk across the stage. When I can finally see clearly again, I look out into the audience and find my family easily.
They’re all standing and clapping excitedly as I scan each of their faces, knowing without them, I couldn’t be here today, graduating with honors.
Grandpa Frank is in a wheelchair now, but Irene has helped him stand for this moment. Even though he is shaky on his feet, he still claps with as much vigor as anyone else in the room, and I feel as proud as he looks that I am his namesake.
My mother smiles at him and then back at me, making her rosy cheeks even rounder and glowing. She looks ready to give birth to my little brother any minute and it’s clearly making Sam nervous. He has one arm around her lower back and another resting on her belly protectively. I smile at the sight of them, happy that she found true love with such an amazing man, a man who has become a real father to me.
Next to Sam, Andrew and his wife, the ‘little missus’ as he loves to call her, whistle and holler my name, making me laugh. I can’t believe it was only three years ago that I watched them cross this same stage when they graduated. It feels like just yesterday.
Next to them, Mrs. Whitmore stands with a tissue clutched in one hand, dabbing at her tears while holding her husband’s hand in her other. Mr. Whitmore wears a proud smile, giving me a nod of congratulations before he wraps his arm around his daughter’s shoulder.
Ashley. My Ashley.
Right now, I imagine she feels the way I did last weekend when I stood with an entire theater and gave her a standing ovation for her first principal performance with the company. She was breathtaking, but to me, she always is.
&
nbsp; Her smile is bright, and her eyes are glossy when she lifts her hand to her lips, opens her palm and blows me a kiss. I reach into the air and grab it, my diploma gripped tightly in my other hand, making her giggle. I pull the kiss, folded safely in my fist, against my chest and place it over my heart and the tiny ring box that’s tucked away in the suit jacket under my graduation robes.
Tonight. I’m all in. Forever.
The End
Thanks
I must thank three very special people without who All In could not exist.
Thank you to my amazing editor Taryn Albright, whose insight, sharp eye, and green pen helped shape All In into a better story than I could have ever hoped for.
To my mother, whose unwavering faith in me has given me the courage to pursue this dream, and every other dream I have ever had.
And finally, thank you to my husband, whose love and support every single day and in every single way makes me feel so unbelievably blessed to be his. I love you.
About the Author
Marta Brown grew up in the Pacific Northwest and was a teenager when Doc Martens, Pearl Jam and flannel were the norm, and Dylan loved Kelly forever (Beverly Hills, 90210 shout out).
She still lives just outside Seattle, now with her husband and cat, and loves the rain.
When she’s not writing about cute boys, first kisses and the magic and wonder of being seventeen, she’s watching The CW. And she sleeps in. Late.
If you would like to know more about Marta and her upcoming projects, check out her website at: www.martabrownbooks.com
