“Only a couple of times,” he replies with a smile. That was one thing about Travis. He never lied, maybe left a few details out from time to time, but never a bald-faced lie.
“Ever raced a motorcycle?” the other one asks Travis.
“Once, and I almost killed myself,” he says, chuckling.
“What about you, Ms. Charlotte? You ever raced a motorcycle?”
I laugh as I hold the camcorder. “Can’t say that I have.”
The kids grow tired of playing twenty-one questions, and they get up from their chairs, leaving behind notebook paper with scribblings and crayons with the wrappers torn off. I do a take around the yard before landing on Travis. He looks at me and smiles, giving me a wink at the same time.
“I love you,” I tell him from behind the camera.
“I love you, too,” he says softly.
I have several sweet moments like that on tape, but that one is extra special to me because it was an honest, raw moment between two people who were madly, unapologetically in love. We weren’t saying it out of habit. It was real. He made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world. He didn’t have to tell me he loved me. I could feel it deep in my soul when he was around me. Even in those moments where I’d say, “I love you,” and he’d simply reply, “I know,” I knew he was saying he loved me, too. If possible, I think I loved him more then than when we were seventeen.
I hear chatter behind me and realize it’s Cynthia singing and twirling as she walks toward me.
“You’re in a good mood,” I tell her.
“That I am,” she replies as she sits down in the rocker on the other side of me.
“Where’s Maggie?”
“She’s with Frank. They made up.” She grins. “What are you doing out here?”
“Just wanted to look at the boats,” I say.
“You’re missing out on the hot action in there,” Maggie chimes in as she walks up behind us.
“The only hot action is you,” I reply. “You’re putting on a show for that old fart.”
Cynthia laughs. “She was killing that dance floor.”
“I can dance now,” Maggie says. “I used to get down all the time in my younger years.” She moves her hips and snaps her fingers. Cynthia and I laugh.
“Sit down before you pop your hip out of place,” I tell her. She does and rocks the chair back.
“What happened to Frank?” I ask.
“Eh, he was ready to call it a night, and I wasn’t.”
“Are y’all arguing again?” I ask.
“Not arguing. I’m just finally telling him how it’s going to go.”
Cynthia props her feet up on the porch railing, and I lean back in my chair.
“Well, good for you,” I reply.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, and then Cynthia says, “My dad had a boat.” Maggie and I look over at her. “We were planning on taking it out together. Just us three and Lit.”
“Who’s Lit?” I ask.
She looks over at me and gives a small smile. “Just an old friend.”
“The same old friend who lived in Georgia?” I ask, remembering one of our earlier conversations.
“Yes.”
“The only other person that called you Cyn?”
She nods. “That’s the one.”
“What kind of name is Lit?” Maggie asks.
“Litton Daniels. He goes by Lit.”
“Was he a close friend?” Maggie asks.
“He was a good friend,” she replies, her smile slowly fading.
“Can I ask what happened?”
Cynthia looks over at Maggie and bites the inside of her cheek before she turns to look at the boats. “I broke it off.”
“Broke it off?” I ask. “He was your boyfriend?”
She nods.
“Where is he now?” Maggie asks.
Cynthia shrugs. “I have no idea. His dad was in the Army, so they traveled a lot.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” I say.
Cynthia shrugs again. “It’s what needed to be done.”
We don’t reply to that, just sit reticent, wondering if this mysterious girl will reveal more about herself, and shockingly, she speaks again. “He took my v-card.”
“Oh,” Maggie says as she looks at me.
“Have you searched for him on social media?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know if I want to know where he is or what he’s doing.”
“Do you still love him?” Maggie asks a moment later.
Cynthia peers down. “I don’t know what I feel. I just wish I would have told him thank you.”
“For what?” I ask.
“He was there for me when no one else was. Before my parents decided they wanted a relationship with me, Lit was there. After they died, he tried to be there, but I wouldn’t let him. I just wish…” She sighs. “I don’t know.” My interviewer puts her feet down and places her empty glass onto the railing.
“I’ve got to get home. I need to type up everything we talked about tonight.” With that, she stands. “Had a good time, Maggie. Thanks for the dance.”
“Anytime, girlfriend,” Maggie says. As Cynthia walks by, she slap-clasps her hand with Maggie’s.
“We’ll talk tomorrow, Charlotte?” she asks, turning back to look at me.
“Yep,” I say. “Goodnight.”
I turn to look at my friend after Cynthia Rose walks away.
“How did her parents die?” she asks.
“I’m not sure. She hasn’t said, and I don’t want to pry, but she is opening up more.”
“She isn’t the only one,” Maggie says to me with a lifted brow.
“Why, what do you mean?” I ask, feigning innocence and putting my hand over my chest. Leaning forward, I push myself up as Maggie places her drink onto the railing. I take a sip of mine as she stands.
“You’re not sitting at home, are you?” she says because we both know that’s what I’d normally be doing.
I place my drink down and look around. “Wait, this isn’t my house?”
She grins and slaps my arm. “Come on, homebody. My legs are killing me, and I think I twisted my damn knee dancing with that twenty-one-year-old.”
I laugh as we walk away from the chairs and the view of the rocking boats. My closest friend hooks her arm around my waist, and I put mine around her shoulders as I say, “Let’s get home, dancing queen.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I think we should find him,” Maggie says to me as we sit on my screened-in back porch. It’s an amazing day out with the perfect amount of breeze coming off the ocean. I sip a cold glass of sweet tea, while Maggie enjoys a Bloody Mary.
“Find who?” I ask.
“Lit.”
I look over at her. “Oh no,” I say. “I’m pretty sure Cynthia would not be happy with us for doing that.”
“I think she needs us to do that,” she says, taking another gulp of her drink.
“I think you need to stop drinking,” I reply, straight-faced.
She huffs, “I’m being serious, Charlotte. I think it would do her some good.”
“Maggie, we don’t know what happened between the two of them. We don’t know if they ended on good terms.”
“There’s a lot going out on me in my old age. My bones creak, the joints in my hands ache, and I’m losing hair, but there ain’t a damn thing wrong with my hearing, and I heard the sound in her voice when she talked about that boy. Now, I don’t know a lot, but I do know love, and she loves him. It’s as clear as that sky out there.” She points.
I sigh. “I think she was just tipsy, and it’s not our place, Maggie.”
“Maybe you’re wrong; maybe it’s exactly our place. Maybe it’s the reason our paths crossed, to get your story out and for us to help that girl get some life back in her…and you,” she finishes.
I roll my eyes at her. “Maggie, I’ll have you know I enjoy my life very much.”
“
Good. But you can’t say you haven’t enjoyed it more here lately.”
I look away from her. “No…I don’t guess I can.”
“So help me. We don’t have to tell her anytime soon. I kinda just wanna see what the boy looks like.”
“How in the world will we know who he is? I’m sure there are plenty of guys named Litton.”
“Did you just hear yourself?” Maggie asks me.
I laugh. “Okay, you’re right. Maybe there aren’t that many.”
“Come on,” she says before she tips her drink up. She makes an ahh sound and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand after she kills the Bloody Mary. “I’ve got to let Archie out, so we can use my computer. I need you to drive. I think I put too much liquor in that drink.”
––––
I sit on Maggie’s wicker couch in her sunroom as she walks in from outside with Archie. His red bandana tells me he’s been groomed recently, because he always gets a new one when she takes him down to the Clip ’n Dip. “It’s a two for one deal,” she always says. “You get ’em clipped and you get ’em dipped.”
She unhooks his leash, and he walks over to where I am. He sniffs my feet before dismissing me, going about his business of chew toys and doggie treats.
Maggie sits down beside me with her laptop on her lap. “Okay, so Litton Daniels, right?”
“Yep, that’s what she said.”
“I wish she would have described his hair or something.” She opens her computer and moves her finger over the mouse pad.
“I’m shocked she told us his name,” I reply.
“True,” Maggie agrees as she bites the inside of her cheek. “So, how do we search for people?” she asks, squinting her eyes and one finger typing Facebook in Google. I look over at the blurry screen.
“There’s a search bar at the top,” I say, leaning to have a better look. She bursts out laughing, and I give her a sideways glance. “What?”
“God, Charlotte, look at us. How the hell are we supposed to see a damn thing without our glasses?”
“I didn’t bring mine,” I say with a chuckle.
“I’ve got more than one pair around here somewhere.” She places the computer on my lap and stands up. I look at the screen as she goes to search for glasses. I kinda see she has finished typing Facebook, so I click Enter. Her page automatically comes up. She walks out of the hallway with two pairs of eyeglasses. One is lime green with hot pink glitter all over it, and the other pair is black and white with square frames.
“Which pair do you want?” she asks me.
“Give me the square ones I guess.”
She sits down after she hands them over and grabs the laptop. “How did you say we search for people?”
I point to the search bar, and she moves the mouse up to it. She types in Litton Daniels and a handful of people come up.
I sigh. “There’s no way we are going to know which one is him.”
She clicks on a profile. “Well, my grand boy made me write a description about myself when he helped me set my account up, so I’m assuming Lit probably has one, too. There has to be something in there that gives us a hint it’s him.”
She scrolls down and clicks on a profile. We look through photos and read in the About section. Some of them are private, so we can’t see anything but a few outdated photos, and then we come across a young man with a buzzed head. It says he’s in the Marines and from Georgia.
“This has got to be him,” I say as we look through his photos.
Pictures of him and some other Marines come up. Christmas parties and them goofing around, and one of him with a baseball bat over his shoulder with a few other guys in uniforms.
“It says he’s single,” Maggie points out with a smile.
“I wonder where he’s living now?” I scan over the photos to see any sign of where he may be. Some of them have a location, but most don’t. “Go down more,” I tell her.
“This one was in California, and this one,” she says, toying with her lip as she scrolls down. “He looks younger in these.”
“The date they were posted was more than a few years ago,” I say.
“Oh my goodness. Is that Cynthia?” Maggie asks as she points to a photo at the bottom. I move in closer to the screen.
The photo is captioned Throwback. Cynthia has dirty blonde hair and a small smile on her lips with Lit’s arm around her shoulders.
“It looks like they were at school,” Maggie says. She scrolls back up to more recent photos. “Oh, look, all of these are in Georgia! That’s not that far from here. He’s a cutie. I don’t know why she’d let a thing like him go,” she adds, grinning.
I roll my eyes. “Maggie.”
“What, you have eyes just like I do. You can’t say this boy isn’t good-looking.”
I shrug. “He is cute. Scroll down some more,” I tell her and she does. “Well, at least we know this is the guy. I think we should let this go.”
“Now why would we do that?” she says mischievously.
“Maggie, Cynthia is a private girl. She won’t even tell us what happened with her parents. I really think she would be upset about this.”
She sighs. “Maybe you’re right.” She slides her glasses off and shuts the top of her laptop. I take my borrowed glasses off, too.
“I’m glad we got to see what he looks like.”
“Yeah, and Cynthia looked so different back then,” I say, chewing on the inside of my lip.
“Yes, she did,” Maggie agrees. “She seems happier, and more carefree. Whatever happened with her parents changed her. Poor girl. Losing her family so young.”
“I couldn’t imagine,” I say.
“You know what we need?” Maggie says after a minute.
“Oh Lord, I’m scared to ask.”
She huffs and stands up, placing her laptop where she was seated. “How come you think it’s going to be bad?”
“You don’t exactly have a good history with great ideas.”
“Tell me one that wasn’t good.” She’s hands on her hips and lifting her right eyebrow. The sun shining in through her windows makes Maggie’s sparkly purple leggings glisten. She looks like a purple disco ball.
“Umm, well, smoking pot, playing golf in that racecar you call a golf cart. I still have a bruise on my ass,” I tell her.
“First off, smoking pot is not a bad thing. Hell, most people smoke it for medicinal purposes, and it helps me sleep. Second, I wasn’t going that fast over those hills. You’re just old and have thin skin.”
I laugh. “It helps you sleep, huh? And you’re not that much younger than me, woman.”
“Charlotte, we may be close in age, but I am way hipper than you.”
“You have more hips than me,” I say, reaching out and poking her in the hipbone. I push off the side of the couch and stand up. “I’ve got to get home. My soaps are recording.”
“You don’t want to hear my idea?” she asks as she follows me to the door.
“I think we’ve done enough for the day. Let’s try again tomorrow.” I open the door and step out.
“Oh, Charlotte, you’re no fun.”
I laugh. “Bye,” I say, waving behind me.
Chapter Fourteen
The springtime sun warms my bones as the tall grass brushes against our legs after we walk off the small porch steps into the yard. He has on his blue jean long-sleeved shirt, and his pants are looser than they once were.
“I need to get out here and cut this,” Travis says, pointing to the lawn. “Or maybe we can get the boy to do it later.”
“Yes,” I say. “William will do it, and I’m sure Elizabeth will help. She’s a go-getter.”
He laughs. “Yes, she is. She cleaned that boy’s whole room and bathroom today while he was at work.”
I smile. The air is warm, and his hands are cold. His bones show beneath his pale skin, but I don’t mind. I let go, and we get into the car. It’s doctor day, which is nothing unusual for us.
“I l
ove you,” I tell him after we get our seat belts on, and I turn the heater up to keep him warm.
“I know,” he says.
I jump awake at the sound of someone knocking on my door. Sighing, I get up from my bed and make my way out toward the living room. I see it’s yet again Cynthia and Maggie.
“Good Lord, do you two not have any hobbies?” I ask, leaving the door open and my girls standing there. I walk to the kitchen to get a glass of tea, with them right behind me, I’m sure.
“Do you?” Maggie calls after me, and I hear the door click shut.
“Yes. Napping,” I reply.
“You do nap a lot,” Cynthia says.
“Wait till you get my age. You’ll wanna nap, too.”
“Geez, grumpy much?” Maggie says.
“I’m not grumpy... I’m just…well, I’m grumpy,” I say, grabbing the tea pitcher from the fridge. I choose not to tell them I was dreaming about Travis and they interrupted me. I don’t pick up my feet as I walk to the cabinet to grab a glass, and my bedroom shoes make a sliding noise across the kitchen floor.
“Maybe we should tell her later,” Cynthia says.
I turn around. “Tell who what later?” I ask.
Cynthia chews her dark purple stained lips and looks over at Maggie.
“I guess I’m the who,” I say. “What aren’t y’all telling me?”
Maggie sighs. “First off, get in a better mood, and second, before you automatically shut us down, listen and think about it first, okay?”
I narrow my eyes. “This isn’t about that idea you said you had the other day, is it?”
Maggie stands up straighter. “Actually, it is.”
“Oh Lord,” I reply as I make my way back over to the tea pitcher.
“Now don’t start being all Negative Nancy on us,” Maggie says. “Promise you’ll think on it first.”
I sigh and take a sip of my tea after I fill the glass up, eyeballing the two over the rim.
“Promise,” Maggie repeats.
“Okay,” I say. “I promise. Just tell me what it is so I can start thinking.”
Cynthia smiles. “So, Maggie thought it would be cool to take a road trip. Our destination will be Ft. Pierce, and on the way, we can stop in Georgia where you lived.”
If I'd Known Page 11
