“It is to me,” I argue.
“It is to you only.”
I give a half smile before telling Terry that we’d be back shortly for the boat. He couldn’t care less, and he hurriedly makes his way back into the air conditioned show room.
Back on Fletcher’s bike we go, and suddenly I’m a little nervous and excited because this will be my first time seeing where Fletcher lives. We leave the congestion of the city and end up at a really nice apartment complex nestled deep down a tree-laden path. He stops in front of the garage door of one of the townhouses closest to the road, and once the door is fully opened, he parks the bike next to a huge black pickup truck.
“I didn’t know this complex existed. These are so nice and quiet compared to where I’m at.”
“Yeah, ideally, I’d have my own place in the middle of nowhere, but this does okay.”
I hand him the helmet I’d been wearing, and he puts it on the seat of his bike. “Nice truck,” I say, running my hand down the side of the spotless vehicle.
“Thanks. I guess it’s pretty obvious that I don’t use it all that often. This is pretty much where it stays.”
“I’m sorry you have to break it out for me.”
“I’m not. Did you want something from inside before we go? A drink? Snack?”
Curiosity gets the best of me, so I ask for some water just so I can check out his place. The first thing I notice is how impressively neat the townhouse is. Everything has a place, and there’s not so much as a magazine thrown on the floor or haphazardly tossed onto the coffee table. The second thing I notice is that everything is pretty generic. Neutral colors dominate the furniture, walls, and fixtures. The only splash of brightness comes from the few pictures he has on the walls.
He walks straight to the refrigerator, pulls out two bottles of water, and hands one to me. As I drink, I slowly walk in front of the line of pictures on the fireplace mantel. I recognize Fletcher in the same military picture as the one posted on his page. Further down is a pic of Ben, Fletcher, and another guy, all casually dressed and laughing candidly near the waterfront. More pics of them camping, swimming, fishing, riding ATVs—all at various ages ranging from pre-teen to adult. I recognize Julia in a few of the pictures, and even Molly in some of the ones that seem to be more recent. Though she’s not much more than a toddler in most of them, her striking eyes give her away.
“You all look close,” I mention as a turn away to face Fletcher.
“We are,” he says.
“Who’s this guy? I haven’t met him yet.”
“Remember the story about the triceratops? He was our third, Brody.”
“Was? Is he?”
Fletcher’s face confirms that Brody wasn’t part of the group any longer.
“I’m sorry,” I say, quickly trying to think of a way to change the subject.
“It’s okay. He died six years ago, and he was Molly’s dad.”
Suddenly, it clicks. They look so much alike in their photos that I can’t believe I didn’t put the connection together. “So he and Julia…”
“Yeah, he teased and tormented her when we were growing up, then his focus changed sometime during high school. I wasn’t very happy with the arrangement, but there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop it. They married the summer after our senior year. Molly came along a few years after. She was six when he died, and I hate that she has to grow up without him. He was a great friend, husband, and dad.”
“At least she’s old enough to remember him, right?” I ask.
“She remembers bits and pieces.”
“A few good memories are better than a lifetime of bad ones.”
“True,” Fletcher agrees. I hand my empty water bottle to him, and he tosses it into the kitchen garbage can. “Ready?” he asks, dangling his keys in the air.
“Yes. Thanks again for helping me with this mess. I can’t believe my grandfather, who obviously hoarded money, spent it on buying me a boat. There are a million other things I can think to do with that money, and I’m stuck with a stinking boat I can’t use.”
“You can always sell it. You might not make back the full purchase amount, but you’ll probably get pretty close to it.”
“True.” I shake a finger in the air. “Grampy, you got me good with this one.” I picture him laughing his butt off at me.
Terry is just as thrilled to see us as he was the first time we arrived, and by thrilled I mean obnoxiously playing games on his cell phone. Fletcher backs up the truck, hitches the trailer, and I’m sure to thank Terry for doing absolutely nothing as we drive away. I’m pretty sure he flips me the bird, but I let it go.
It’s a nice, quiet ride to Lake Martin from the boat store, and I enjoy taking in the scenery of the cypress trees, marshy bogs, and vacation houses. Before Fletcher can finish backing the boat and trailer into the side yard at Ben’s, Ben and Lizzy are joining us. I spot Lizzy before Ben, only because she’s impatiently jumping up and down while happily squealing. She’s all over me when I get out of the truck.
“Boat for sale. You want it?” I ask while being crushed by Lizzy’s bear hug.
“I just might,” Ben says, running his hand down the shiny new hull. “What are you asking?”
“What will you give me?”
“Oh, you’re one of those people, huh?” Ben says with a laugh. “This is brand new, never been in the water, right?”
“That’s right. Straight from the store.”
“Hmmmm. I think we should take her out, and see how she handles before I make an offer.”
I shrug. “Y’all launch the boat, and we’ll be there in a second! Don’t leave without us!” Lizzy yells, practically dragging me inside the house.
“What are you doing?” I ask, rubbing my wrist once she releases it.
“You can’t go out in a boat dressed like that,” she proclaims, shutting the bedroom door.
“It’s exactly the same thing the guys are wearing: shorts and a t-shirt.”
“Exactly! We’re girls. Swimsuits,” she sings while emptying onto the bed a duffel that’s chock full of Lizzy-wear.
“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” I say.
“Yes, ma’am.” She starts stripping, tossing her clothes aside as she goes. “I’m wearing the red and white polka dot bikini. You can pick anything else from the pile.”
“Don’t you have a tank top I can borrow?” I anxiously ask.
“Nope. Pick a top.”
“I don’t even remember the last time I wore a swimsuit.”
“It was the Fourth of July party that I dragged you to three years ago. Pick already.”
“How do you remember this stuff?” I ask, shaking my head as I thumb through the suits. I pick up an emerald green, halter style top. Lizzy nods her approval, so I quickly slide it on. As I’m trying to pull my t-shirt over it, Lizzy snatches it clean off of my head.
“No,” she fusses. “You look beautiful. Plus, it’s a bizzillion degrees outside. There’s no need for layers.”
“Lizzy,” I say with a warning tone.
“I’m letting you wear the shorts, so consider it a compromise.”
I roll my eyes before following her outside. She makes a brief stop to grab some towels then we join the guys on the dock. The boat is bobbing lightly in the water when we arrive, and Fletcher helps Lizzy and me into the boat. As soon as we’re in, Lizzy sits up front and snuggles with Ben, who knocks it into gear. I’m in the back seat, across from Fletcher, actually enjoying the feel of the warm sun on my exposed flesh. Listening to the hum of the motor, I find it hard to keep my eyes open. I allow them to close and deeply inhale the slightly fishy-smelling air. I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in a long time, and I have a fleeting thought that maybe I should keep the boat. That thought is quickly cast aside as reality crashes down. The only reason I’m in this boat is because my grandfather died.
Inwardly, I tell myself that he’d want me to be happy. That it’s okay to relax and have fun, but as usual, guil
t rears its ugly head with each and every positive thought I have. I’m a little startled when I feel Fletcher’s body brush up against mine.
Loud enough for me to hear him over the hum of the motor, yet quiet enough that Lizzy and Ben don’t overhear, he asks, “What are you doing to yourself, Savannah? I know you’re struggling because it’s written all over your face. It’s okay for you to have a good time. You’re riding in the boat that your grandfather bought for you. If you relax and enjoy yourself, it’s like you’re giving him the gift of gratitude.”
“Is it really that apparent? I didn’t really think of it like that. I just keep thinking about how rotten I am for being out on the water the day after his death.”
Fletcher reaches out to touch me, and instinctively, I flinch. He slowly lets his hand drop.
“I’m sorry,” we both say at the same time.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say.
“Just have fun, okay?” he asks. I nod. Pushing to scoot back to his original position, I stop him by putting my hand on his knee. He gently takes my hand into his and gives it a slight squeeze. Heeding his advice, I once again close my eyes and deeply inhale the fresh air around me. The ride must’ve relaxed me so much that I fell asleep because the next thing I know the boat motor powers down, and we’re approaching the dock at Ben’s house. Fletcher lets go of my hand so he can jump out to tie up the boat. He held my hand the entire time. I feel a smile trying to escape, but I work to contain it.
“She runs like a dream. Great boat. Will you take twenty five for her?”
“Uh, twenty five is perfect. Yes,” I say, growing excited. I’ve made back all of Grampy’s money, and I didn’t have to go through any hassle trying to sell the thing! I figure Fletcher has something to do with it, but I’m not going to harp on it. Life is starting to look up for me, but I know from experience that it’s usually pretty short lived. I’m going to suck up as much of the good stuff as I can before the other shoe drops.
“Hey, Lizzy. Got anything stronger than water inside there?” I nod my head towards the lake house.
Lizzy pops her head up from behind the windshield of the boat. “We have beer, and a few bottles of some other stuff. Right, Ben?”
“Yeah, babe. We sure do.”
“What about a deck of cards?” I deviously ask.
“Absolutely,” Ben answers.
After raising an eyebrow, Fletcher mutters, “Nice.”
The card game gives way to a campfire once dusk arrives, and we all sit around discussing Lizzy and Ben’s upcoming nuptials. She tells us that it’s going to be a small, intimate affair with minimal fuss and hassle. Aside from Fletcher and me, who will serve as attendants, the guest list might make twenty at most. I still can’t believe that Lizzy is going along with whole small wedding thing; the girl’s been planning her dream wedding since we were kids. Finally, I get the gumption to ask her about it.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, once we’re inside. She’s digging around in the fridge to restock our beer supply.
“Am I sure I want to do what?” she asks, her head still bobbing around inside the door.
“Get married here. Have a small wedding. Minimal fuss.”
She knocks the door closed with her hip and sets the bottles that are laced between her fingers onto the kitchen cabinet. She’s looking me dead in the eye when she says, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“It’s just… I’ve seen the wedding folder, and Lizzy, this isn’t it. In fact, it’s the opposite of the wedding folder.”
“I know,” she says with a smile. “That folder is full of things I thought I wanted, but now I know they’re not that important. I’m getting married to the man, who I feel with all my heart, is my soul mate. This marriage is for me and Ben. It’s not so we can entertain three hundred guests. He loves me, and I love him, and we want to be together forever. The only people who need to witness that are the ones who are closest to us. The ones who will truly support us, to guide us, and to be there for us.”
“Lizzy,” I start softly. “What happened to you?”
She laughs heartily. “I grew the hell up! That’s what happened.”
“Are you sure you’re happy, and that this is truly what you want?”
“Do you have any reason to doubt it?”
After pondering the question, I shake my head. “I’m happy for you, and I wish you the best.”
Lizzy snatches me in for a bear hug, and I try fighting her off. She just hugs me tighter. “You have to stop this nonsense. Humans crave touch. There’s nothing wrong with a hug, or a kiss, or anything else.” She starts planting kiss after kiss all over me while making “muah” sounds. If she weren’t so much taller than me, I’d have wriggled away faster, but her darned long arms and legs wrap around me like an octopus, and I find myself stuck.
“Cut… it…. out…,” I manage to say in between her barrage of kisses. It’s not until the guys join us inside that she finally stops. Both of us share the same deer in headlights look, while the men simply look confused. Lizzy unfurls herself from around me, and I start wiping away at my face.
“Do you want to know?” Ben asks Fletcher.
“I’m not sure. Aren’t you curious?” Fletcher asks Ben.
Lizzy snatches the bottles off the counter and starts handing them out. “Oh, hush! We were just playing around. I was trying to get Savannah to loosen up some.”
“You women get away with some weird stuff, you know that?” Ben asks.
“What do you mean?” Lizzy inquires.
“Imagine two guys playing around like that. Awkward…”
“Are you jealous that you don’t get to play around with your guy friends like that?” she teases.
“No, I’ll leave that to you girls, babe. Fletch and I, we don’t have to go to those extremes. Check it.” He moves closer towards Fletcher, points his chin upward, and mumbles, “Sup? You good, bro?”
Fletcher mimics his gesture, and mumbles, “Yeah, man. All good here.”
Lizzy plants her hands on her hips. “How in the hell does that cheer him up?”
Ben looks her way. “Oh, if I want to cheer him up I fart, or if I can’t bust one out, I just tell a fart joke. Watch.” He cocks his leg to the side and a rumble roars from his pants. Lizzy looks mortified, Fletcher is busting a gut, and I find myself amused, as well. It’s so cliché, but damn it, it’s funny watching Lizzy fan her face once the aroma wafts her way. I give myself permission to belly laugh, and I feel more of my sadness drift away. I could possibly get used to this new sensation—maybe happiness isn’t such a bad thing. Well, at least until it’s ripped away from you. I fight thoughts like these for most of the night, but ultimately, it turns out to be one of the best days of my life. Thank you so much for helping me to see the light, Grampy.
Chapter Eight
It’s another quiet, lonely Saturday afternoon, and I’m halfway through a TV movie when the phone rings.
“Are you busy?” Fletcher asks.
“Not really. Why do you ask?”
“We never had that dinner and movie date that we scheduled.”
“I guess we haven’t. So?”
“So, I want to take you out tonight.”
From habit more than lack of desire, I start making excuses, but Fletcher stops me. “I’m going to pick you up at five. Dress casual.” He ends the call before I can argue. Unsure of how I just let that happen, I glance at the clock to check the time. It’s four, so I jump from the sofa and into the shower. I’ve become less self-conscious about the scars on my legs since Fletcher pointed out that they really aren’t that noticeable. I’d worn shorts several times since to places like the grocery store or to run errands, and never even received as much as a sideways glance. I wonder if the scars appear more pronounced to me because I know their history, or if people just truly don’t care about them. Either way, it feels good to wear shorts and skirts again, especially in the heat of summer. So, after I dress i
n my usual wardrobe of shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers, I sit and wait for Fletcher to arrive. He’s right on time.
“Are you nervous about this evening?” he asks when I crack the apartment door.
“No, not at all. I’m… Yes,” I admit.
He pulls a bouquet of multi-colored daisies from behind his back. “Does this make you less nervous?”
I smile. “Maybe a little.”
He reaches to his right and pulls Molly into my field of vision. “I brought a chaperone. Does this make you less nervous?” Molly is nothing but a big toothy smile as her uncle pats her lightly on the head. I can’t help but laugh.
“Chaperone, huh? You up for that, Molly?” I ask, opening the door all of the way.
“Yep! Uncle Fletcher said that if I don’t mess this one up, there’s an extra twenty in it for me,” she says with a giggle.
Fletcher feigns disgust, “You just ruined it! Kiss that twenty bucks goodbye, missy.” Molly is giggling so hard that she can barely catch her breath. Fletcher shakes his head and points in her direction. “I told her to say that. That’s why she’s giggling so much.” He pulls a bill free from the stack in his pocket. “Here’s a ten. Don’t mess anything else up tonight, and I’ll slip you the other ten.”
“Okay, Uncle Fletcher,” she says, still giggling.
“Y’all come in while I put these in water,” I say, taking the bouquet from Fletcher. Molly looks around the apartment, and she stops in front of Lucas’ picture.
“Oh, what a cute baby! What’s his name?”
I’m not sure if it’s because the question came from someone so young, or if I was finally making breakthroughs in dealing with his loss, but that stabbing knife sensation that normally cripples me when he’s brought up didn’t happen this time. Instead, it’s almost a peaceful sensation that flows through my body. Though his life was short, he’s still important, and by letting others know about how special he is to me serves to preserve his memory. Keeping him out of sight and out of mind helps me to ignore the pain, but it in no way provides any justice to Lucas’ memory.
Fletcher turns to look where Molly is looking, and I can tell he’s about to say something, but I raise my hand to stop him.
Yours Always Page 9
