8. Micah
8
MICAH
After a morning of driving bags of junk to the local dump, I head back out the door because a guy’s got to eat. If I’m gonna stick around here for the time being, I need to arm myself with better supplies than the Pop-Tarts and cans of soup I found in the pantry. Rosie helped keep my grandfather stocked, but our palates have always been different. His was way blander.
My cell rings as I slide into my car. It’s my manager from the restaurant, so I answer on the first ring. “How’s it going?” he asks.
“Eh, you know how it is.” He’d shared with me that his dad had recently passed away. “The house is a wreck, and I’m not sure if it’s going to sell without a serious undertaking.”
“Take all the time you need. Your job will be here when you return.”
“Are you sure?” God, that’s generous of him. But he’s always been a kind boss, allowing me to trade shifts whenever an audition came around.
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks.” I end the call and then drive into town. Outside of the notable new businesses and the now defunct butcher shop whose windows are covered while Jack decides what to do with the space, everything seems about the same.
I park and head into Honeycomb, knowing I won’t be able to avoid the McCoys forever. Besides, Dina is married to Chuck, and he’s been genial to me throughout this ordeal.
The bell clangs above the door as I enter.
“Well, look who it is,” Dina says, causing other customers to turn and stare. “Sorry to hear about your grandfather.”
My gut churns at the attention drawn to me, but in all honesty, his death still doesn’t seem real. Not even with the urn containing his ashes sitting on the fireplace. “Thanks.”
“Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen him in the last couple of years. But I’ve gotten to know Rosie.”
I fiddle with one of the honeycomb lotions at the counter. “Yeah, she’s a good person.”
“Chuck says you’re getting help with the place?”
“Yeah, as soon as it’s cleared out, Aaron is going to take a crack at it.”
“Good plan. The cottage he bought turned out amazing.” She motions toward the street. “No doubt he and Jack will turn the butcher shop into something amazing too.”
“I heard.” I’m tempted to drive over to Mrs. Martin’s old residence to see the renovation, but it’s not like I’m checking Aaron’s references or have many other options. Besides doing the work myself, which would only keep me in town longer.
“So, what brings you in today?”
“Need to restock.”
I grab a basket and fill it with odds and ends I won’t be able to find on my grocery trip, like shampoo and soap—made with honey, of course. I can feel the other customers’ scrutiny, but I ignore it. No doubt I’m considered double trouble now that I left not only Aqua Vista, but my husband too.
“Micah Malone. I remember you.” I stiffen at the voice, only to find a longtime resident with her cat on a leash. I’m surprised he hasn’t figured out how to slip out of the collar yet and head for the nearest tree.
I offer her a tight smile. “Morning, Ms. Sussan.”
“You finally came home,” she replies in a scolding tone as if I’m some prodigal son. And maybe I am—going off to do foolish things with my money and time.
“My grandfather passed away.”
She nods. “He was a stubborn man, but he lived a good, long life in this town.”
“He did.” I think. Mostly. How the hell does she know anyway? This is the sort of bullshit small-town talk I despise.
She smirks. “You still causing trouble, or did you make your grandpa proud?”
Fuck, why does that question hit me so hard? Not only the bluntness of it, but the realness too. Did I? “Sure hope so. I’m living in Los Angeles and working hard.”
She studies me as if she doesn’t believe me. “What kind of work?”
“I’m—” I want to lie to prove to these people that I made something of myself. “I’ve gotten some small roles in movies and commercials, and I work at a popular restaurant in my spare time.”
“Good for you. You finally got the attention you were craving.”
My mouth opens and shuts in astonishment. If I were still that same angry kid, I would have some expletives to offer her.
But before I can figure out a rebuttal, Dina’s voice rings out. “Leave the man alone. We all have our pasts, and he was only a teenager at the time.”
Ms. Sussan blinks, then tugs on her cat’s leash. “Indeed.”
When the door shuts behind her, my eyes meet Dina’s, and we both burst out laughing. “Thanks for that.”
“No problem. Now get over here and give me a hug.”
The request surprises me. I’m sure John’s family has had enough of me.
I fall into her warm embrace as she whispers in my ear, “Whatever happened in your relationship with John is your business. We still love and support you, honey. You’re a good person.”
I nearly sob against her throat. It’s been so long since I had a parental figure tell me anything good or supportive. It makes me ache for John’s parents again.
After she rings up my purchases, I walk out of the store lighter than I felt going in. Maybe it won’t be so bad, coming back here again.
Just as I have that thought, I run into Beth holding a broom as she sweeps the sidewalk in front of Spellbound. “It’s nice to see you again, Micah,” she says with a smile. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” I blink, then blurt, “No I told you so ?”
“Of course not.” She grips her chest, her reaction surprising me. “What do you take me for?”
“Someone who speaks her mind whether you want to hear it or not,” I tease.
“With age comes wisdom, and I’ve learned over the years that not everyone wants my advice. That said, I’m sorry I interfered.”
She certainly appears changed. More humble and conciliatory. Might be a story there I’m missing. “You obviously were right, even if it was hard to hear.”
“I might’ve been right about the distance, but not about your heart. Or at least, it’s not a thought I’ve shared with you, given the circumstances.”
“Not sure what you mean.” Should I even ask? I’ve not felt right about her predictions in the past. But I can’t seem to help myself.
“I’m talking about your hearts being connected, even with distance. After all, the sun is still sure of the ocean twice a day, even if the horizon keeps them apart.”
Something about that niggles in my brain, like I recognize it from somewhere. Or maybe it’s because she used the word sure , same as I did in my letter to John. Twice a day—like at dusk and dawn?
Just as I’m about to ask her to elaborate, she waves to an approaching customer. “There you are! I was hoping you weren’t canceling our session.”
I turn away as the customer mutters her apology. I’m still thinking about what Beth was trying to say. The woman speaks in riddles.
Walter tries to sell me something from his souvenir stand, and I shake my head. “I see you’re still banking on the town curse.” I’m surprised it doesn’t include a map to my grandfather’s so-called haunted house. I wouldn’t put it past him.
By the time I place in my trunk the bags of groceries to tide me over for a couple of weeks, I’m tuckered out and ready for some peace and quiet in the foothills. That’s surprising because I don’t always feel that in the city, where there’s a certain energy and buzz. But maybe it’s because this is Aqua Vista, and almost everyone knows my name.
Still, instead of sliding behind the wheel, I head to a nearby bench to inhale some clean mountain air and check a text from my agent. Not a minute later, Mr. Goodson shows up with his ukulele and sits at the other end. I remember the year his wife passed and how forlorn he always looked. How you would hear him playing their favorite songs in town, as a tribute.
His demeanor hasn’t changed much. There’s still an underlying melancholy, as if the sorrow hasn’t lessened much over the years. I don’t think I appreciated the sentiment—the deeply romantic gesture—as much then as it hits me now. Or since being estranged from the love of my life.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “You still play?”
He nods and smiles. “For her.”
I’m not sure if the man even remembers who I am, but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. Just lifts the instrument and glances once at the sky as if she’s up there somewhere.
I listen to him play something a bit off-tune, but I recognize the melody as “That’s Amore”—an oldie but a goodie, my grandfather would say as the music blared from his radio on the boat. I smile at the memory.
I wait for him to finish, then clap and smile. “How long were you and Mrs. Goodson married?”
He stares wistfully into the distance. “Nearly sixty years.”
I can’t even imagine. Or maybe I can. They seemed so in love as they doted on each other. “What do you think the secret to a good marriage is?”
Why am I doing this to myself? So I can hear all the ways I failed?
“Let me see…” He hums as he thinks it through. “To allow each other the space to grow, separately and together. Being married that long means you’ve both evolved into many different versions of yourselves. You’ll grieve who they were a million times over, but the key is to embrace who they’ve become.”
I blink in shock at how profound that is.
Before I can unpack it all, he continues. “But also to laugh together and communicate your feelings. To stay connected not only emotionally, but physically too. I miss just holding her hand.”
My chest aches. Fuck me, I obviously shouldn’t have asked.
“That’s…thank you for sharing that with me. I can see why you miss her.” I stand abruptly. “Well, I’ve got to go put away my groceries.”
“All is not lost,” he says with a pointed look. “Life is full of beautiful and heartbreaking moments. They can divide you, make you resentful. But real love is eternal. It keeps you rooted even when you’re split apart.”
All I can do is nod numbly, realizing he knows exactly who I am.
What is this? Inspirational Quotes Day? Christ, I’ve had enough. I’d take the anonymity of LA right about now.
I head back to the seclusion of my grandfather’s house.