Chapter 27
Opinion: Stories that begin with “It was a dark and stormy night” rarely have happy endings.
—Delilah Dune, opinion writer
W hen the sun came up, Lyla was still seated and wide awake on Allison’s couch. The wind had died down outside as the night wore on. Now it was morning and Lyla needed to check on her parents’ home and see if it had made it through nature’s turmoil. What were the odds that the house would have been hit by a hurricane twice in its lifetime?
Lyla reached out and gently grabbed Allison’s foot. She shook it back and forth. “Hey. Hey, Allison?”
Allison stirred and snorted before opening her eyes and blinking sleepily at Lyla. “What’s going on? Is the storm over?”
“The storm is over,” she confirmed.
Allison’s yard had an array of sticks and pine straw, and one of the neighbor’s chairs had blown over onto her property. There were no fallen trees and no major damage that Lyla could see.
She turned back to Allison, who was now sitting up on the couch and stretching her arms overhead. “I need to get back to my parents’ house and see how it looks.”
Allison nodded and stood. “Want me to make you a cup of coffee first? It won’t take long.”
Lyla waved her off. “I can make it. You stay there. Do you mind if I borrow one of your to-go cups?”
“As long as you bring it back,” Allison teased.
“It’s not like I have a coffeemaker to fill it back up at my parents’ house, anyway.” Although if she stayed in Echo Cove much longer, she was going to have to go back to that thrift store and see if they did have one she could purchase.
Lyla went through the motions of making herself a cup of coffee and pouring it into a to-go cup. “I’ll call you later,” she said on her way out the door. Lyla climbed into her little car and nervously drove down the streets that led to her childhood home. She had to navigate slowly because there was debris in the roads.
As she drove, she looked at all the houses. There were a few with major damage. Trees had cracked in half and one had fallen on someone’s truck. Yikes. Someone’s roof appeared to have caved in on one side. There were shingles missing and some had blown into the street.
Could she have prevented this by jumping off the Pirate’s Plank? The thought sounded ridiculous in her mind, but some part of her still believed it might be true.
As Lyla turned onto Briar Lilly Road, she held her breath. She remembered all the damage that had happened to her parents’ house during Hurricane Billy, when she was in high school. It had taken a lot of time and money to get her parents’ home looking the way it had before the storm. Slowing the car, she turned the corner and then her eyes quickly jumped to the yellow house where she had grown up. It took a moment to process what was different.
“Oh, no.” She sucked in a quick breath and pulled her hand to her chest. The garage had a giant tree lying on top of it. It was ruined. The house wouldn’t sell with a tree lying on it. Tears sprang to her eyes as she pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. She opened the driver side door and got out. Then she walked around the house toward the backyard and let herself inside the fence, noticing that a couple of the wooden panels were on the ground. The tree that had fallen was the big cypress tree that she had buried the time capsule underneath. It had come completely out of the ground, roots and all.
Lyla had no idea what to do right now. Time felt like it was at a standstill.
“I think it’s just the garage that got damaged,” Ms. Hadley called over the fence. “It could have been much worse.”
Lyla turned and looked at her neighbor, too stunned to speak.
“I heard the noise when it came down,” Ms. Hadley continued. “At first, I thought it hit my own house. It’ll be a lot of work to get that tree pulled off and your garage rebuilt. I hope this doesn’t ruin your parents’ trip.”
Her parents’ trip. Oh, no. “You haven’t told my parents about this, have you?”
Ms. Hadley shook her head. “I figured you’d want to be the one to break it to them.”
Lyla absolutely did not want to break this news to her parents. The last time they’d tried to take a vacation together had been ruined. If they came home to tend this house, they might never leave again. They might miss out on the trip they’d been planning for more than a decade. “Please don’t tell my parents, Ms. Hadley. I’ll handle this on my own.”
Ms. Hadley seemed to inspect Lyla for a long moment. “You’re a good daughter,” the woman finally said. “If you need any recommendations for construction workers and roofers, I know a few. I’ll help you in any way I can.”
Wow. What a lot of good a bag of treats from Bean Time could do.
“Thank you.” Lyla continued to walk around the house, finding that the main damage was to the garage. She could at least continue to live here while the repairs were being worked on. That was a small blessing.
Finally, she walked inside and looked around the empty home. It hadn’t bothered her so much that the house was empty when she was only planning to stay a couple weeks. But now that she was looking at more like a month, possibly more, she wanted a real chair to sit in. And a coffeemaker too.
Lyla sat in the middle of the floor, tears springing to her eyes. “Okay. Okay. This has happened, and I’m going to deal with it,” she said to herself.
Opinion: Things are bad when you start pep-talking yourself.
“It’s okay. Everything is okay. I’ll just be staying a little longer,” she told herself. Because the buyer was most certainly backing out on their offer. The deal was definitely off.
The next morning, Lyla walked into Bean Time Coffee and headed straight up to the counter.
Instead of her usual coldness, Bernadette tilted her head, something warm in her eyes. “I heard about your parents’ place.”
Lyla forgot that everyone knew everyone’s business in Echo Cove. Her parents’ home wasn’t the most damaged, but it was in the top five. She’d already been stopped several times by people offering to help.
“If you need anything, let me know,” Bernadette said, further surprising Lyla.
“Thanks. But honestly, the best you can do for me right now is a coffee and bagel. With extra cream cheese.”
“Of course.” Bernadette set to preparing those two things. When Lyla offered her debit card a moment later, Bernadette waved it away. “I’m just about to go on break. Can I join you?”
Lyla was pretty sure her expression at that request was priceless.
Bernadette looked serious, though. “Do you mind?”
“Um, not at all. Please do.”
Bernadette nodded. “Find yourself a seat and I’ll be over after I warm up my muffin.”
Lyla collected her coffee and bagel, and found the same table she’d used the other day. It was as if it was waiting for her. Her table.
Careful, Lyla. Creating a hangout with a table just for her might lead to making Echo Cove her home again. Maybe she wouldn’t mind that so much, though. She had a friend here, after all. Maybe two after this breakfast with Bernadette. She’d also made friends with Ms. Hadley—kind of. She was beginning to like her own opinion more than her alter ego, Delilah’s.
Opinion: True success was measured by how many friends showed up when you were down.
Opinion #2: True success is measured by how many friends you show up for in life.
A minute later, Bernadette sat down and looked at her. “Listen, I’m sorry for being so cold to you.”
Lyla tried not to choke as she sipped her coffee. It was so weird that the people who hated you, who treated you poorly, felt guilty after something tragic happened. Not that a tree falling on her parent’s garage fell in the tragic category. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for not telling you there was sloppy joe on your pants before you got up in front of the class for your oral report.”
Bernadette pulled the top of her muffin off. “That was hilarious. I wouldn’t have told me either.” She chuckled. “That’s not why I was mean to you.”
Lyla raised a brow. “It’s not?”
Bernadette rolled her eyes. “That was high school nonsense, Lyla. I wouldn’t hold a grudge about something so trivial. The reason I didn’t like you when you came back to Echo Cove was because of the article you wrote about me.”
Lyla blinked. “When did I write an article about you?”
Bernadette chewed her bite of muffin. “Not me, specifically. It was about all of us here in Echo Cove.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Then she made air quotes with her fingers. “Opinion: People who never leave their small hometowns are destined to be small-minded.”
The bite of bagel Lyla had just bitten off lodged in her suddenly tight throat. She pounded a hand against her chest and swallowed hard. That had been her very first opinion article for “Delilah’s Delusions,” and it had caused quite the reader response. It was an unpopular opinion that she’d truly believed at that time. “You took it personally?”
“It was personal. I chose to stay in my small hometown. Most of us did. The fact that you left doesn’t make you any better than me.”
Lyla hated that she’d hurt Bernie’s feelings. “I know that now. In fact, I admire you. You’ve created something amazing here. I’m the one who went out looking for success. Now I’m back here with nothing to show.”
“Nothing to show? You’re a household name. A celebrity.”
“A celebrity who is about to be unemployed, who has no home, no love life, and who had no friends to speak of until a couple weeks ago.”
After a beat, Bernadette responded quietly. “I guess some part of me took what you wrote personally, because deep down, I was afraid you were right.”
“I wasn’t. I was the small-minded one. And I’m sorry.”
Bernadette looked at her for a long moment as if weighing her thoughts and feelings.
There was nothing insincere about Bernadette. No pretenses. Lyla admired that quality.
“Apology accepted.”
“Thank you.” Lyla brought her cup to her mouth and took a sip of coffee. “So what else is going on in your life? Are you and Eric ever going to tie the knot for real?”
Bernadette rolled her eyes. “Not if I have a say. I’m happy where I’m at. Why change things if they’re working for you?”
Lyla nodded. “I’m planning to make a whole lot of changes, I think. Maybe just one at a time though.”
“Is Travis one of those changes?” Bernadette raised a brow. “A romantic relationship, maybe?”
Lyla wasn’t sure she and Bernie were friendly enough to discuss romance. Not yet. “Travis and I are just friends,” she said honestly. It was the truth, even if she wanted more. She was still being small-minded, but it was out of a need for self-preservation. It was out of fear. “Or maybe we’re not even friends anymore. We kind of got into a fight.”
Bernadette popped a piece of muffin into her mouth. “About your latest opinion?” she asked knowingly.
“He told you?”
“I haven’t seen him. I read the column, though. If Eric wrote something like that, I’d probably pour castor oil in his coffee. Sloppy joe pants for real.”
Lyla’s mouth fell open. Then she burst into laughter. Bernie laughed too.
When the laughter died, Lyla looked at her own cup of coffee and gave Bernie a suspicious look. “Is this cup of coffee going to keep me in the bathroom all night?”
“No. I would never do that. In all seriousness, that opinion would hurt if I was the guy who was falling for you right now.” She cupped a hand along one side of her mouth as if sharing a secret. “And guys are a lot more sensitive than we given them credit for.”
Lyla liked the lighter side of Bernadette. “Maybe you should take over my opinion column.”
“Running this coffee shop is akin to having a gossip column, as it is. I hear Allison is seeing my ex, TJ,” Bernadette went on, lowering her hand back to the table and leaning back in her chair.
Lyla blinked. “I thought that was a secret.”
“In this town? Please.” Bernadette popped a piece of muffin into her mouth and chewed. “I just hope he doesn’t do Allison the way he did me. Allison has been through enough. She deserves better. And so did I.” Bernie notched up her chin. “That’s why I dumped TJ and found Eric.”
“Wow. The more I get to know you, the more I respect you.”
“We should be friends.” Bernie lifted her cup of coffee to the middle of the table. “Let’s make a toast.”
Lyla lifted her cup too. “To what?”
“To the small-minded losers who we’re better off without.”
Lyla tapped her cup against Bernadette’s. “I can definitely toast to that.”
When Lyla got home, she started making calls to all the nearby construction crews and handymen. There were repairs that needed handling and they needed taking care of ASAP. She was under no illusion that the house would be back to new today or tomorrow, though.
She stepped onto the back porch, a small lump growing in her throat as she looked at the old cypress tree lying on the back side of the garage. That tree had weathered so much, but this final storm had been its undoing.
Rest in peace, tree.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw her mom’s name on the screen. Immediately she knew that someone had called her parents and let them know what had taken place. Maybe not Ms. Hadley, because she’d promised not to, but another person in Echo Cove had reached out.
“Hi, Mom.” Lyla leaned against the deck’s railing.
“Oh, honey. Why didn’t you tell me what happened? How awful. Were you hurt in the storm?”
“No, Mom. I’m fine. I wasn’t even home.” Home . The word resonated through her. “At your house. I was staying with Allison.”
“Allison? For a Dinnerware Party?” her mother asked.
“No, for fun. Or friendship.” And support.
“I was told the house is bad. I’m so sorry. Your father and I have discussed this, and we’ve decided we’re going to change our plans and turn back. We’re coming home.”
“No!” Lyla said automatically. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Well, the house has to be fixed. It won’t sell with a tree in the middle of the garage.” Her mother laughed quietly. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that came with humor. More the inappropriate kind that happened at a wake when a loved one was lying in a box at the front of a room and people stood around chatting and laughing when the mood was solemn.
Okay, that was a morbid thought.
“I’ll stay,” Lyla told her mom. “I’ve thought it through. I’ll hire the repair crew. I’ll get it all done.”
“You don’t want to do that,” her mom said. “You’ve already put your life on hold for the last few weeks for us. You’re young. You should be out living your life.”
Lyla thought about that. The funny thing was, while her life was supposedly on hold, she’d done more living than she had in years. “I want to stay, Mom.”
“Is this about your friend Travis? Is that why you’re trying to stay?”
“No. He’s not even in the picture anymore. We had a fight.”
“You broke up?” her mom asked.
“Mom, we weren’t dating,” Lyla said, but that was a bit of a lie. If you were kissing and spending the night together, you were dating. Then again, if she and Travis were dating, she wouldn’t have written an article saying that basically it was better not get attached to someone. “Stay on your trip. I want to do this, and I’m not taking no for an answer,” Lyla said.
There was silence on the other line.
“Mom?” Lyla asked finally, wondering if her mom had disconnected the call.
“You have really grown up, haven’t you?”
“I don’t know.” Lyla watched a tiny firefly light up and go dark. It lit up again and again.
“Young people are self-involved a lot of times. That’s not a bad thing. That’s how it should be. That’s how you need to be sometimes to make your dreams come true. You’ve already achieved so much, though, and now you’re taking care of those around you too.”
“I haven’t achieved anything,” Lyla said.
“You’re famous. People know you around the world.”
“They know Delilah. I’m Lyla,” she said, watching the tiny firefly. “No one knows Lyla Dune.”
“Well, maybe they should, because the Lyla Dune that is my daughter is one of the best people I know.”
Lyla was surprised that her eyes suddenly stung. “Your and Dad’s opinions are the only ones that matter. Thanks, Mom.”
“Thank you. And let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you from across the globe.”
Lyla laughed. This was the real laugh. The humorous kind. The laugh that sourced itself from joy. “I will.” Her phone dinged, signaling that she’d gotten an email. She glanced at the screen and saw that it was from her editor, Bob. “Mom, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later, all right?”
“Sure. Love you, Lyla.”
“Love you too.” When Lyla disconnected the call, she opened her inbox and the email from Bob.
Lyla, Lyla, Lyla. What a hit that last article was! It’s generated hundreds of responses already. You’re back to being a star. Keep it up, kid, and have your next opinion to me by next Wednesday.
Bob
Lyla guessed she was supposed to feel a sense of pride or happiness that her opinion had pleased Bob. That same opinion had hurt Travis, though. Maybe that was the beauty of her column. It either hurt people or resonated with them, and either way, that generated engagement.
But this time, she’d hurt someone she loved. She’d also hurt herself in the process.