Chapter 24
Ghost from the Past
Fire Island
I run out of the rave and stop to heave on the side of the building.
“You okay, lady?” a young man asks.
Feeling utterly humiliated, I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and look up to see he’s standing with a group of his buddies. All of whom are staring at me.
I manage to croak out, “I’m fine.”
It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told in my life.
Stumbling to my car, I sit there, trying to unravel what’s just happened…
Leōn has an identical twin.
That horrible excuse of a human happens to share the same chromosomes as Leōn—whose name is Nikolaos, apparently.
According to the carbon copy, I’m being played by Nikolaos because I’m overweight.
My blood boils when I think back on all the ugly words that bastard called me. It was like I was in middle school again, only a thousand times worse.
I’ve never felt so worthless.
When I notice a security guard watching me, I turn on my car and make my way home.
Traumatized by what happened, I dissect every interaction I’ve had with Nikolaos, trying to find red flags.
I recall everything he said and even the ways he would look at me during our scenes.
But I can find nothing that hints at him wanting to humiliate me.
Oh God, am I running headlong into another Noah situation?
Gwen would know.
Out of a lifetime of habit, I text her and frown when a notification pops up.
Contact is unable to receive message. Message blocking is active.
My heart breaks into a million pieces as I stare at that message.
Our friendship is really over.
Sleep is impossible!
The background noise of the city, which I normally find comforting, feels intrusive. It’s like a worm eating into my brain.
I sit up in bed and write a message to all of my Friday students, letting them know I have to cancel my lesson because I am unwell.
I then spend the predawn hours composing a well-worded letter to Headmaster Wallace, explaining that I have come down with severe stomach issues and have been vomiting, which is not far from the truth, honestly.
So, in the best interests of others, I must isolate myself and will not be attending the auction this weekend.
I send it as the sun rises and turn off my phone. It feels as if a big weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I honestly wouldn’t care if I got dismissed for missing an auction. For all my accomplishments and the progress I’ve made at the Training Center, none of it means anything to me now.
I sit by the window, fidgeting with the ring on my finger while I watch the sun rise. The weight of everything that’s happened feels like a vice that’s closing in on me.
Needing escape, I jump in my car and start driving without a destination in mind. I just need to get far enough away from the problems that plague me so I can finally breathe again. I turn the music up high to drown out my thoughts.
It’s been ages since I’ve driven outside the city limits, and I start feeling a bit disoriented when I get a fair distance away and look in the rearview mirror to see the skyline of New York fading behind me.
Driving aimlessly, unaware of my surroundings, I’m startled when I notice the lighthouse in the distance. My heart races, realizing I’m driving over the bridge to Fire Island. I haven’t been here since my father died.
I pull up to the Field 5 parking area in the state park and stare out my windshield.
My mother used to pack a big picnic basket whenever we came here. We would spend the day walking the numerous paths, and usually, we would end up on the beach to play in the sand and enjoy lunch as a family.
But before we left, my father and I would always visit the lighthouse. He knew the staff, and they would let us in free of charge. I would count every single step as we climbed up the 182 winding steps to take in the view at the top.
When I step out of my car, I am hit by a light breeze rustling through the dry winter grass. I’d forgotten how beautiful that sounded.
After gazing at the Fire Island lighthouse for several minutes, I start down the path, drawn to the tall structure.
My heart fills with a mix of joy and trepidation.
Several kids run past me laughing as they race each other, and it makes me smile.
I’m reminded of my brothers and me. I’d forgotten there was a time when we were happy and carefree like that.
I keep a leisurely pace as I take my time walking to the lighthouse, unsure if my heart can take the flood of memories that threaten to spill out.
When I reach the entrance, I breathe in the smell of the old building. I know it was built in 1858, which is a true testament to the skills of the people who constructed it. I walk up to the counter to pay for my ticket and am greeted by an older man who could pass for a middle-aged Santa.
He studies my face and smiles. “You remind me of somebody.”
I laugh awkwardly, muttering as I hand him my credit card, “I can’t imagine who.”
Staring at my card, he crinkles his forehead. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Joseph Lane? You have the same eyes.”
I let out a small gasp. I haven’t heard anyone say my father’s name in years. “I…I’m his daughter.”
He grins. “I knew it. Sarah, isn’t it?”
“Sophie,” I correct him gently. “I’m sorry to admit this, but I don’t recognize you.”
He chuckles, placing his hands on his stomach. “Not a surprise. I was in my thirties back then and have rounded out a bit since.”
“Me, too,” I laugh.
“Well, I’d say we’ve both aged well.”
I grin, feeding off his positive energy.
He hands back my card and takes out his own, using it instead.
“Oh no, I’m happy to pay.”
He just smiles. “No, I can’t let you. Your father was one of the best men I’ve known.
He helped me out of a bad situation when I was evicted without warning from my flat, and I would have lost all of my possessions if I hadn’t gotten them out that night.
Your dad saved my butt that day, and I’ve never forgotten it.
Joseph was always willing to help a guy out.
He looked out for all of the folks here because he visited so often. ”
“Which would explain why we always had a free pass to the lighthouse.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he states enthusiastically. “It’s a mighty shame he left this world too soon.”
A wave of sadness crashes over me.
“Now, now,” he says apologetically. “Joseph would never forgive me if I made his little girl cry.” He hands me a cherry lollipop from the canister next to the till. “Your favorite, right?”
I’m touched he remembered such a trivial thing as I take it from him.
A young tour guide waves to me. “We’ll be starting in twelve minutes.”
“She’s with me, Charlotte.”
The man will never know how that simple phrase is like a healing salve to my battered heart.
“Oh, okay.” The girl looks at me and nods. “Welcome.”
Unwrapping the lollipop, I put it in my mouth and smile at the guy.
The familiar tartness of the cherry takes me right back to my childhood as I start up the familiar winding stairs.
By the time I reach the top, I’m panting heavily.
It’s quite a contrast from my memories, because I used to race up these stairs with my father.
Once I make it outside, I take in the view by leaning against the railing. I’m grateful for the cold breeze on my face. The sky is a brilliant blue, and the air is so crystal clear that I can see both the New York skyline off in the distance and the Statue of Liberty a little farther on.
My dad always said the same thing on clear days like this: “Sophie girl, would you just look at that! You forget how grand it is when you live in the middle of it, but when you see it from a distance, you can appreciate how truly beautiful it is.”
Tears spill from my eyes as the crushing pain of his loss hits me full force.
Daddy…I need you right now!
My vision blurs, and his loss hits me as hard as it did the day my mother told me he was dead. The finality of that loss is something that my mind has yet to accept.
I stand there crying, gazing at the faint outline of the city where I live.
I feel like a total stranger in it. I stay rooted there for hours, taking comfort from the memories of the past. I’m unwilling to leave, even when the temperature of the air drops as the sun begins to lower in the sky—unwilling to say goodbye just yet.
“Dance, Sophie girl.”
I jump at the sound of his voice and turn to my left, expecting to see him. “Daddy?”
A woman nearby looks at me strangely, then lifts her phone and makes a peace sign as she takes a selfie.
Dance, Sophie girl! This time, my father’s words ring through my head with a sense of urgency.
I suddenly feel the driving need to return to the city—now!
I hurry down the winding staircase and wave to middle-aged Santa on my way out the door. “Thank you!”
The sense of urgency increases with every mile I cover on the drive back.
By the time I pull up to the Luxe Escape, I’m jittery with nerves.
I toss the keys to the valet as soon as I get out of my car and hurry through the entrance.
When I rush up to the front desk, Chase gives me a crestfallen look.
“I’m sorry, Miss Lane, the jet left for Morocco twenty minutes ago. ”