Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Maple
Hank, or Harold, doesn’t look a whole lot like Holt. But he has the same charm. He doesn’t let go of my arm as we walk into his living room. The place is small and dark. It makes me sad to think of him all alone here. Twenty years without his wife is a long time.
“Have a seat,” Harold says, gesturing to the small couch with more cushions than space to sit on.
A cracked leather recliner with a glass of wine sitting on the table next to it is clearly where Harold sits to watch the television. I go to sit, but there’s a crash and a gasp, bringing my head back around. Harold’s knocked over the glass of wine as he went to sit. It’s now mostly in his lap. Mookie barks her concern. Holt leaps into action, righting the glass and helping his grandfather stand. Harold curses under his breath, looking down at his ruined pants in embarrassment.
“How about I go walk Mookie so she calms down?” I suggest, already heading back to the door. Holt gives me a head nod and then turns his attention back to Harold.
“How about we get you a fresh pair of pants while I clean this up, Grandpa?”
The door closes softly behind me. Mookie tugs at the leash, wanting to explore this new place and mark the ground every two feet with her scent. “Holt’s just about the sweetest guy I know, Mookie.”
Mookie looks up at me. She lifts her leg and pees on the sidewalk.
I stifle a laugh. I could swear she knows what I’m saying. “He is. You should see some of the men out there.” I shiver, even though it’s just as warm here as it was in Anchor Lake. “I hope it wasn’t a mistake to come out here and tell Harold about Grandma. I’d hate to upset an old man. Or to cause Holt problems. But don’t you think love deserves a second chance?”
The tiny dog sits on her haunches and yips at me. I refuse to take that as anything but a yes. I so badly want to see Grandma get her happily ever after, or even just closure on what happened when she was eighteen. She and I have always been so similar, and in my mind, if she can find love again, it’s basically saying that I have a chance too. That if the world can love and accept her, it can love and accept me too. That I am not destined to be alone forever, wondering why I’m so different from everyone else.
“Moonbeam?” Holt’s voice calls from behind me. Mookie takes off in his direction and I follow.
He’s smiling at me, holding the door to his grandpa’s place. “All good. Thanks for giving us a minute.” He kisses my cheek as I slide by him into the condo.
I sit on the loveseat and Mookie curls up immediately at my feet. Holt takes my other side, our bodies touching on this too-small couch. Harold is in his chair, wine gone. He scrubs a hand across his chin and I notice his snow-white hair is neatly combed now, like he took the time to throw some water on it and look more presentable.
“I was stunned by your beauty, Maple.”
I grin at him. “Don’t worry, Harold. That happens a lot around me. I’m used to it.”
“Quit flirting with my girl, Grandpa,” Holt teases. “We actually came to ask you about Anchor Lake. As you know, I live there now. Maple’s visiting her grandma for the summer.” Holt turns to me to carry on, which I do.
“My grandma is Gracie Thatcher. Well, she used to be Gracie Graham.”
I let the words hang there as Harold’s face goes slack. Holt reaches over and takes his liver-spotted hand in his. His voice is gentle. Tentative. “We found a diary. If it’s okay with you, we’d like to find out if you’re the Hank Gracie was in love with.”
Harold still doesn’t say anything. He’s breathing, something I actually check by looking at his chest rising and falling. Then his eyes fill with tears as he stares at me.
“You do look just like her,” he croaks.
That makes me smile. Nothing could be a better compliment. “Thank you.”
I thought I’d feel elation at solving this mystery, but now I’ve realized there’s so much more to this story than finding who Hank is. There are two hearts, two families, and an unsolved crime. I don’t want to hurt anyone by bringing up the past. I swear to myself that if Harold doesn’t want to get involved in this, I’ll let it go. Completely.
“Grandma Gracie is starting to have some signs of dementia. I came for the summer to assess her condition and spend time with her. I found an old yearbook that you must have signed. It got me asking questions, trying to figure out who you were. Then we found a diary Gracie kept during that time and read your love story. Found the gold ring.”
Harold inhales sharply and my mouth snaps shut.
Holt darts me a look and then focuses on Harold. “We won’t say a word about knowing who you are if you prefer that. We just wanted to see if you had any interest in coming to see Gracie.”
Harold pulls his hand from Holt’s and sits back. His gaze fixes across the room, and as the time ticks away, I fear we’ve lost him to the memories. Or maybe this is his own dementia kicking in and leaving us out of the equation. Desperation has me opening my mouth again.
“Gracie might not have a lot of time. She gets a scan done soon and we’ll know the extent of the dementia, but if you want to see her or talk to her…you need to act fast.”
Harold’s gaze finally comes back to mine, filled with tears. “Better to leave well enough alone, I think.” I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up his hand, cutting me off. “I promise to think about it.”
I roll my lips inward and force myself to accept his answer. I hate it when my family pressures me, making me think their opinion about my life supersedes my own. I won’t do the same to Harold.
“Okay,” I say quietly. Holding his gaze, I nod, wanting him to know I respect his answer.
“Can we come see you for breakfast tomorrow, Grandpa? We’ll hit the road after.” Holt climbs to his feet and reaches back for me.
“I’d like that,” Harold answers.
Holt and I give him hugs and then head out. Back in the Jeep, Holt quickly starts the directions to the hotel he reserved for us. There’s a quiet tension between us and I fear I’ve overstepped.
“I’m sorry if I was too forceful.”
Holt reaches over and holds my hand, his thumb sweeping back and forth across my knuckles. “It’s fine. He handled it well. The decision is his though.”
I nod. “I know. I promise I won’t push anymore.”
Holt pulls our joined hands up to his mouth so he can kiss the back of my hand. “Thank you, Maple.”
The hotel is nice, but standard. Nothing charming like the cabins that surround Anchor Lake. Mookie does her business outside on a narrow strip of grass, and then Holt carries our bags up to our room while I carry Mookie in my arms. She settles quickly in her carrier and I slip into pajamas. I can feel Holt’s molten gaze on me as I change. I’m relieved that I haven’t pissed him off. Dexter would have given me the silent treatment for days if I did something he didn’t care for. It’s almost too much to hope that Holt’s already accepted my simple apology in the car.
“Whatcha looking at, hunky monkey?” I ask as I tug the cami over my head and smooth it over my breasts.
Holt snorts. “That nickname is…”
“Amazing? Best you’ve ever had?”
His grin intensifies. God, he’s beautiful in drawstring shorts and nothing else. His chest is impossibly wide, yet his waist shows his care with his diet and exercise. The stacks of muscles in his upper torso give my eyeballs plenty of landscape to cover. He’s already tanner than he was at the start of summer, whereas I’m the same pale shade.
“Exactly.” He throws the covers back and slides into bed, motioning for me to join him. I do, melting into his side as his arms come around me. Our feet tangle together, and he doesn’t even mind when mine are like ice blocks against his skin.
His fingers stroke my hair absently as we lie there in our own thoughts. When he finally breaks the silence, his voice is barely more than a rumble under my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about crossed wires, wrong timing, things that could have been.”
I run my finger down the center of his abs. I love how his muscles flex and twitch whenever I touch him. “I know. I guess that’s why I’m obsessed with them seeing each other. I want to right a wrong. Not that Grandma’s life was wrong. She was happily married for decades and had two kids, and now grandkids. It’s just…”
“First love,” Holt adds helpfully.
“Yeah.”
There’s silence again. Holt’s fingers slide through the strands of my hair. Over and over. It’s hypnotizing, dropping me slowly into a state of relaxation I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before with another person.
“You know, if Gracie and Harold had actually gotten together, we could have been brother and sister. No wait. That’s not right. Cousins? Related somehow?”
I think about it and crack up. My finger drills into his ribs and he yelps. Mookie huffs air through her nostrils from her carrier in the corner, as if she’s done with our inane chatter.
Suddenly Holt rolls me to my back and settles above me, his heavy weight supported on his elbows bracketing my head. His face is suddenly serious. “I don’t want us to become a product of wrong timing. Crossed wires. I don’t want to spend my life thinking about what could have been, Maple.”
My arms come up and wrap around his neck. My fingers play with his hair. I soak in the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m precious. Not weird. Wanted .
“You don’t?”
He shakes his head slowly, light eyes burning into me. “Fate brought us together twenty years ago and then this summer. I don’t want to lose you again. Not at the end of summer. Not ever, moonbeam.”
“No breakup?” I can’t believe my ears. Can’t begin to contain the excitement that courses through my veins as he bares his soul and I find it mirrors mine.
“No. Not if I can help it.” He dips his head and brushes his lips across mine. “Say you’ll think about it.”
My fingers tighten in his hair, and I struggle to keep my eyes open. “I don’t need to think about it. No breakup.”
His grin is quickly blotted out when he kisses me, rolling us so that I’m on top and he’s hard and long between my thighs. Clothes shuffle in a desperate attempt to be closer. Soon he’s inside me and we both breathe a sigh of relief. Our moans are soft, melting into the night to seal our promise. I move faster, rocking up and down, feeling like I might fall apart on this man and never be put back together the same. The way Holt holds me afterward tells me he doesn’t want to change a thing about this version of me either.
Maple’s Journal
(2 years ago)
What use is a journal if you can’t record both the best and the worst days of your life? Maybe one day I’ll read this entry and laugh. Shake my head at the woman I was and smile proudly at who I’ve become. I hope so. I really fucking hope so. Brace yourself, diary. Yesterday’s event was a doozy.
“Maple, is that you?”
A familiar voice pulled me from my phone, where I was texting Dexter and receiving no response.
“Angel? Hi!” My first yoga teacher ever was standing in front of me, her tie-dye pants and strappy sports bra so similar to what I remembered about her. Time hadn’t changed her one bit.
She threw her arms around me and hugged me so hard I lost my lungful of air. She pulled back and put her hands on my shoulders, looking me up and down.
“Oh, sweetie. What’s going on?” Her smile drained from her face.
“What do you mean?” I looked down at my outfit, feeling like I fit in just fine with the instructor training I was attending today, along with quite a few other yogis. I hadn’t actually wanted to come, but Dexter insisted, saying some of my transitions were disjointed lately. I disagreed, but to stave off another fight, I’d acquiesced.
Angel tilted her head, her eyes becoming overly round and sympathetic. “You were always like a lightbulb in every class. You’d shine brighter than everyone else. Who dimmed you?”
I huffed out a laugh I didn’t feel. She’d always been a bit dramatic. “No one dimmed me, Angel. Just tired, maybe.”
She shook her head, finally releasing my shoulders. “No. I don’t believe that. Your chakras are all off. You’re like a boat, adrift at sea and on the verge of sinking.”
Well, that was a terrible thing to say. “Again, I’m just tired. Been working a lot.”
Angel spun me around and gave me a shove. “Go home. Get rest. Remember what I always say? Pushing harder is the wrong move. Rest harder, sweetie.”
I walked out into the sunshine in a daze. I spun around and saw Angel still looking at me through the glass doors of the convention center. She waved me off, yet another person in my life telling me what to do. She had a good point though. I didn’t even want to be here. If it weren’t for Dexter pushing me to attend, I would have spent the weekend catching up on sleep and maybe hitting up the local farmers market and an overpriced cup of tea.
With a defiance I hadn’t felt in years, I grabbed my keys out of my crossbody purse and headed for my car. Angel was right. I was going home. To do what I wanted to do, dammit.
I didn’t think anything about Dexter’s car being in the parking lot of the apartment we shared. I did roll my eyes though, remembering how he hadn’t bothered to text me back this morning. He required me to answer immediately when he texted, but he told me he didn’t feel the need to keep his phone on him. He’d respond when the spirit led him. The spirit didn’t led him often, it seemed.
Sliding the key in the lock, I opened the door quietly, conditioned to not make much noise, lest I irritate Dexter and shake up his precious chakras. My purse slid silently to the floor and I toed off my shoes. I was headed for the kitchen for some water when I heard a giggle coming from our bedroom. A very feminine giggle.
My nose went numb and my ears went hot. My legs decided to stop working, so I stood there, halfway into the kitchen, that adrift boat Angel had called me. A masculine, familiar groan joined the noises emanating from my bedroom. It took me a ridiculously long amount of time to realize what was happening. I heard way too much of their interaction, my brain filled with images that just didn’t compute.
Until they suddenly did. Probably right when a woman screamed Dexter’s name and he shouted hers. Sabrina. One of the other yoga instructors at our studio. Young. In it to wear tight yoga pants and bend herself into pretzels for the men who frequented her class.
My legs felt like they were learning how to walk again as I stalked to the bedroom. I was no longer adrift. This boat was on fire, riding through the chaotic waves of the storm. I threw open the door, letting it hit the wall.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” I shouted, suddenly not caring at all if I was too loud.
Sabrina shrieked and dove under the covers. Dexter put his hands out, like he could command me to not make a stink about him having an affair.
“It’s not what you think, Maple.”
My eyes went wide, seeing the lump that was Sabrina under my favorite quilt. I really liked that quilt. Now I’d have to burn it. “It’s not you fucking Sabrina in my bed?”
He paused, and that tiny little moment in time was all I needed.
“Get the fuck out!” I screamed again.
“Let her get dressed first, Maple. Be reasonable.” Dexter climbed out of bed, stark naked, a condom still on.
At least he’d used protection. I almost laughed out loud.
“I meant you, jackass. Get your shit and get out. Now.” Dexter came closer and now I held my hands out, warding him away. “I’m not kidding, Dexter. Get out now and don’t come back.”
I walked out of the bedroom to have a seat on my couch. The two came out a few minutes later, dressed and moving quickly. Sabrina wouldn’t meet my gaze as she ran past, shouting a half-hearted apology before the door closed behind her. Dexter lingered, probably thinking he could get me to bend like I always did. I was bendy as shit in yoga. I’d been bendy as shit in my personal life for far too long too.
Today, I was done. Rigid and inflexible sounded like heaven.
“Don’t,” I warned, right as he opened his mouth. He sighed and walked out, the door shutting quietly behind him.
I squeezed my eyes shut and cried the rest of the night.
Not because of his betrayal or the loss of our future together.
I cried because I’d lost myself, and I was only now getting a piece of her back.