If We Fly: A What If Novel

by Nina Lane

  “What do you think of Benjamin Theodore?”

  I lift my gaze to hers. A wave of warmth and sorrow passes between us.

  “Benjamin Theodore.” I nuzzle the baby’s little head. My throat constricts. “I love it.”

  “Me too.” Vanessa reaches out to touch her son’s hand. “And thanks for being there for me. I’m really glad you were.”

  I sit beside the bed and adjust the baby in my arms. I plan to still be there for her. For both of them.

  “I wonder if there’s a collective noun for babies in that book you told me about.” Vanessa settles back against the pillows. “Like a pod of babies.”

  “A cuddle of babies,” I suggest.

  “Ah, good one.”

  I stay for another hour, reluctantly handing Benjamin back when I remember all the things I still have to do.

  “I should get going. I have unfinished business to finish, one of which is painting Benjamin’s nursery.”

  “What about the town mural?” Vanessa slants me a glance.

  Anxiety ripples down my spine. The Bicentennial Festival is in one week. And not only did I abandon the mural, I vandalized it. I don’t know what the festival committee and Allegra King will say about it, but I’m not going to run away again.

  Before I can respond to my sister’s question, a light knock sounds at the door. Nathan peers inside, clad in his police officer uniform and holding a bouquet of flowers and a gift bag.

  “Okay if I come in?” He looks uncertainly at Vanessa.

  “Yes.” Her expression softens. “How did you know I was here?”

  “A little bird told me.” He winks at me in silent thanks.

  Vanessa gives me a mock glower, but she can’t conceal the pleasure in her eyes.

  Nathan peers at the baby. “Wow, look at him. He’s perfect.”

  “Do you want to hold him?”

  “Uh, sure. I think so.”

  She shifts Benjamin from her arms into Nathan’s. He looks down at the little bundle with an expression of such awe that my heart lightens. Whatever happens between him and Vanessa, he’s demonstrated not only his strength and decency as a man, but his loyalty as well.

  “I’m going to go.” I squeeze my sister’s leg by way of a goodbye.

  “Okay.” She hesitates. “Have you seen Cole?”

  “Not since yesterday.” I rub my hands on my jeans. “I’m going to stop by his office now.”

  Though a shadow clouds her eyes, she nods. “Tell him thank you from me.”

  “I will.” Pleased by the small overture, I give Benjamin one last pat. “I’ll call you later.”

  Leaving her and Nathan alone with the baby, I walk out to the car I’ve rented for the next few days. I haven’t conquered my fear of driving in one fell swoop, but at least now I’m facing it head-on.

  After returning to Lantern Square, I hurry toward the Snapdragon Inn. A glimpse of the red-splattered mural constricts my heart, but I have to deal with that later.

  Cole is waiting for me in his office, and the sight of him—in a tailored suit and tie, his golden-brown hair falling over his forehead—eases whatever tension I have left. Something appears to have loosened inside him too, smoothed his frown lines, maybe even softened him a little.

  He greets me with a smile and extends his arms. Relieved, I fit myself against him and press my head to his chest. His heart thumps strong and steady into my ear, timeless as ever.

  “You okay?” He presses a kiss to the top of my head.

  “I think so.” I tighten my arms around his waist. “Starting to be okay, at least. You?”

  “I’m good.”

  I ease back to look at him. “Even though people are finding out that…”

  “Josie.” He rests his hand on my neck, the lines of his forehead relaxing. “Whatever happens, I want us to deal with it together. And it sounds like what will always be painfully immediate for us is a tragic but distant part of the past for most other people. It’s time for all of us to start looking forward.”

  I press my palm against his heart. “Vanessa asked me to thank you.”

  “She and the baby are doing well?”

  “Yes. I don’t think it’ll be too long before you’re able to meet Benjamin Theodore.”

  “Great name.” His eyes crinkle with warm tenderness. “Let me know when it’ll be okay to send him a gift. Stuffed animal, pacifier, college fund…”

  I grin. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “I need to go to New York for a few days, but I’ll be back in time for the festival.” He slides his hand to my nape. “Hopefully before.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “You’re going to the festival?”

  “Invicta is sponsoring it, so I guess I have to.” He shrugs. “I’m hoping they need another judge for the pie bake-off.”

  Tycoon Cole judging a pie bake-off. Might be one for the papers. “If you’re judging, I might have to bake a cherry pie.”

  He frowns. “Okay, but I won’t play favorites. Oh, hell, yes I will. But only for you.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I’ll have to reward you with your own special cherry pie.”

  “I am a big fan of your cherries.”

  With a laugh, I stand on tiptoe to press my lips to his. We indulge in a lengthy kiss before he lifts his head and threads his hand through my hair.

  “See you in a week?” he asks.

  “I’ll be waiting for you.” I smile and look into his eyes. And right there in the blue, gold-flecked depths is the boy who saved my Halloween candy and the man who saved me.

  * * *

  After Cole leaves for his trip, I work on finishing the baby’s nursery. Vanessa and Benjamin are released from the hospital, and I help them both get settled at home before I return to the mural.

  Everything is exactly as I’d left it. I’d sent Allegra King a text that I’d be back, though I’m prepared to work on the painting alone since word of my meltdown and everything surrounding it has traveled. There’s no way I can finish the mural in time for the festival, but I’ll work as hard as I can.

  I set up the paints, drop cloths, and brushes. My hand shakes a little as I start to cover up the red splatters and repaint the pier and carnival, but the bright, twinkling lights and neon signs quickly shine through.

  “Do you need some help?”

  I glance up. Charlotte is standing nearby, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She smiles and gestures to her worn jeans and old T-shirt.

  “I dressed for the job,” she adds.

  “I would love some help.” Gratitude swells, and I reach for a clean brush. “Thanks so much. Hey, I have something for you.”

  After giving her the brush, I dig into my backpack for the evil-eye amulet and extend it to her. “I so appreciate this, but I don’t need it anymore.”

  “You sure?” Lifting an eyebrow, she slips the amulet into her pocket.

  “I’m sure.” I already have all the protection I need.

  She gets started painting a colonial-era building, and I return to covering up the red splatters.

  “Can I help?”

  It’s David, one of my father’s old friends from the Historical Society. As the morning progresses, more and more people stop to paint—some for just a few minutes, and others for an hour or more. Allegra King even shows up, though the sight of her prickles me with nervousness.

  “First, congratulations on the birth of your new nephew,” she tells me. “I’m glad everything worked out so well.”

  “So am I. Thank you.” I grip my paintbrush tighter. “I wanted to apologize for what happened with the mural. I wasn’t in a very—”

  Allegra’s raised hand stops my words. Her expression darkens. “Josie, there is no need to apologize. I can’t even imagine how difficult it’s been for you. I certainly don’t hold you accountable, and I don’t believe anyone else will either. This community has always supported you, and you’ll find that we will continue to do so. Now more than ever.”

  “Thank y
ou.” Relieved, I gather my courage for my next statement. “Also, I was hoping to talk to you more about the Arts Center. You’d mentioned you’d like me to be on the recruitment committee when you start hiring new teachers and artists.”

  “Yes, and the offer still stands,” she replies. “If you already have some names for us, that would be lovely.”

  “I have one name.” I take a deep breath. “Josie Mays.”

  Surprise widens her eyes. “Really? But I thought you were going home soon.”

  “I need to go to Los Angeles after the festival for an exhibition opening,” I explain. “But I’ve been thinking about what Eve said about community-based art. The mural has helped me realize how important it is. There’s so much that can be accomplished with youth education, outreach to disenfranchised communities, more collaborative efforts with installations. I’ll do some research and can write up a proposal and send you my resume with—”

  “Josie.” With a laugh, Allegra holds up her hand again. “Say no more. We would love to have you as part of the Arts Center staff.”

  I blink. “Really?”

  “Of course. Not only are you a talented artist, you also have a talent for involving people in art. And the fact that you have strong ties to this community…well, you’re the ideal person for the job.”

  “Thank you so much.” I can’t help giving her a quick hug of gratitude. “I’d also like to talk to you about another concrete wall that could use some beautification over by the pier.”

  “Come to my office tomorrow, and we’ll discuss it further.” She squeezes my hands warmly. “Welcome home, Josie. Now what can I paint?”

  After I give her several brushes, she gets started painting the flags on Lantern Street.

  As I return to my task repainting the pier, a dot of red in the center of the woods catches my eye. Another paint splatter. I dip a brush into the sage-green paint and peer more closely at the clusters of trees and branches stretching out past the lighthouse.

  My heart leaps. Marching along a trail is a little girl wearing shorts and a Scooby-Doo T-shirt. Her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she’s carrying a red backpack decorated with big yellow daisies. A scarlet red tanager flies at her side.

  That girl is right at home in the woods, in this town where her mother created colorful, expansive images of mystical women, where her father delivered the mail and traced the lineage of Castille schooners, where her sister taught her how to put on lipstick, where her little brother played with Legos and learned how to pitch a baseball, and where she’d grow up to fall in love with the boy she had a crush on when she was nine.

  A smile opens up from the middle of my soul, and a strange feeling lifts my heart. For an instant, I don’t recognize it. It’s light and airy, almost sparkly, like a purple balloon rising into the sky.

  Happiness.

  * * *

  As late afternoon approaches, I drive out of Castille toward the lighthouse and turn off on to a coastal road bordered by grasslands. On a hill above the ocean, an old stone church presides over a cemetery dating back two centuries.

  I park at the entrance and walk past the headstones to a grove of trees. Sheltered under the branches is a small grave set between two larger ones.

  When Teddy was little, he used to love walking between our parents, holding their hands so they could lift him and swing him back and forth. Being boosted off the ground and flown through the air never failed to make him laugh with joy. And though at twelve he was too big for hand-swinging, he never lost the habit of walking between Mom and Dad.

  Kneeling, I place my hand on my little brother’s grave. Maybe now, wherever they all are, it doesn’t matter how big or old Teddy is. Maybe they’re all in a place where he can still grab Mom and Dad’s hands and swing as much as he wants.

  Maybe that’s what happens after we leave this life—we go to a place where we’re with the people we love, and we can do whatever makes us the happiest. Whatever makes us laugh with joy.

  A breeze rustles through the trees. Birds chirp. I sit for a long time, grateful for what I’ve been given and hoping to find my way into the peace I know my parents want for me.

  I love you, Mom.

  I love you, Dad.

  I love you, Teddy.

  Getting to my feet, I pick up my red backpack and hitch it over my shoulder. As I return to the path, I stop.

  A raven, glossy feathers black as ink, stands near a tree. He rustles his wings in the breeze and turns his head. His black eyes fix on mine. An eternity passes in those few seconds.

  The raven hops forward on both feet, then shifts to a walk beyond the trees. Pushing his head forward, he caws, throat feathers ruffling. His wings open and start to flap, lifting him off the ground.

  Rising higher and higher, he becomes a silhouette against the blue sky. As he catches the wind, he spreads his wings and begins to soar.

  Chapter 15

  Cole

  * * *

  I’m late. Too many delays and overtime meetings.

  A reddish-orange sunset streaks the horizon by the time I pull into Lantern Square. The Bicentennial Festival banner still hangs from the gazebo, but workers are dismantling the art and food booths and taking down the decorations. Only a few people linger around the plaza.

  With a sigh, I take out my phone to text Josie. A message from her appears:

  JOSIE: Come to the pier when you get in.

  COLE: On my way.

  After parking near the docks, I walk to the pier. The place is bustling with a late-summer crowd. Colorful lights shine in the dusk. Familiar noises fill the air—laughter, music, and happy screams from the carnival riders.

  I feel Josie before I see her. My heartbeat increases, and warmth floods my veins. She’s standing by a fried-dough booth, watching the rotating Ferris wheel. She turns her head. Our gazes meet, and the smile that spreads over her face contains all the good things in the world.

  I break into a run, suddenly feeling as if a year rather than a week has passed since I’ve seen her.

  “Hi…oh!” Her eyes widen.

  Hauling her into my arms, I lower my mouth to hers. Ah, perfect. Cherry candy, salt water, powdered sugar, Josie. My head spins. Everything inside me comes to life.

  “Hi.” Reluctantly, I pull away and set her back on her feet. “I missed you.”

  She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “I missed you too. Welcome home.”

  “Thanks.” I brush her dark hair away from her forehead. “You said you had a bunch of stuff to tell me when I got back.”

  “Some of it can wait.” She tucks her arm into mine. “I thought we could just hang out here, for old times’ sake.”

  “What about new times’ sake?”

  “That too.”

  We walk toward the carnival. Pigeons flock along the weathered boards, pecking at fallen scraps of food. Two couples head into McGinty’s, laughing. A chorus of shrieks rises from the Tilt-O-Whirl.

  “I heard one of the new Arts Center proposals will be to restore and repaint the Ocean Carousel,” Josie remarks. “They’re hoping to make it a community-centered project done by volunteers. Mechanics, artists, woodworkers. A collaborative endeavor.”

  “I’ll be happy to contribute. I have a particular fondness for that carousel. Well, for the whole pier.”

  “Even the Milk Bottle Toss?”

  I narrow my gaze on the old game booth, where I spent many hours collecting money, handing out baseballs, and restacking the bottles.

  “Fondness, no. Gratitude, yes.” I rub my hand over Josie’s lower back. “If I hadn’t been staffing the booth all those years ago, I might not have seen you that night. And you wouldn’t have thrown yourself at me with wild abandon.”

  “Not that you seemed to mind,” she reminds me dryly.

  “Come on, man,” the game operator calls. “You look like you can win a nice prize for your lady. Doesn’t he, miss?”

  He winks at Josie, who shrugs. “It might take him a
couple of tries.”

  “Fighting words.” Taking out my wallet, I put a few bills on the counter. “What do you want me to win you?”

  “How about I win you something this time?” Josie suggests.

  “You…”

  She lifts her eyebrows inquiringly.

  “…go right ahead.” I step back to give her room at the counter.

  The game operator sets down three baseballs. Josie picks up a ball, then performs a windup that allows me to admire the way her jeans stretch over her perfect dumpling ass.

  She pitches, hitting two of the bottles.

  The small crowd behind us cheers and applauds.

  The second pitch is too far to the left. The crowd groans.

  Third pitch…the last milk bottle topples.

  “Nice job.” Not about to miss the opportunity, I kiss her again. “Especially with the windup.”

  “I’ll pick your prize.” She studies the array of animals and toys, then points to the lower tier plastic toys that contain an unknown surprise inside. “We’ll take that purple shell.”

  The operator hands me a plastic box shaped like a scallop shell.

  “Vanessa used to have something like that when we were kids,” Josie says. “It was filled with little tubes of lip gloss.”

  “Just what I need,” I remark. “Little tubes of lip gloss.”

  “Maybe there’s something else inside.”

  I open the box. Tucked against a cotton pillow is a red Lifesaver.

  “Well, it’s perfect for you, at least.” I extend the box to her and stop.

  She’s gripping her hands together. Nervousness shines in her eyes.

  “Jos..” My heart slams against my chest.

  “Wait, wait. I have a whole speech for you.” She holds up her hands and takes a deep breath. “Do you remember when I told you you were my hero? I didn’t really know what that meant until now. I…” She pauses and clears her throat. “I think I fell in love with you when you saved my Halloween candy from being stolen, but I never imagined that one act would lead to the sacrifices you’ve made since then.