Epilogue
Opinion: Time shouldn’t fly when you’re having fun. It should slow down, and you should remember to enjoy it—every moment.
—Lyla Dune, aspiring author
L yla raced into the wind that kissed her cheeks and ran its fingers through her newly red hair as she sat on Sonny’s memorial bench in the town square. She was trying something that she would have been too scared to try in her former life. Now, she laughed in the face of fears like that. Granted, the first time she’d dyed her hair, it had been more orange than fiery red, and she’d cried for an hour straight. The second box had done the trick though, and she loved who she saw looking back at her in the mirror.
“Hey, Sonny,” she said, speaking softly. There was no dog there. The little dog she’d seen hadn’t returned since the accident, and she suspected he wouldn’t. Just like the magical fireflies and all the “coincidences” this past month and a half, he was part of whatever strange and mystical experience had taken place just for her. “I want you to know—heel-nipper, bike-chaser, or not—you were a good dog. I also want you to know that Ms. Hadley’s okay. You could never be replaced, but Travis and I did convince her to try again. You’d like Ruby. She’s as feisty as you, and she keeps Ms. Hadley company.”
Lyla traced her fingers along the grooves of Sonny’s name on the bench. After a moment, she stood and climbed back onto her old glittery purple beach cruiser. “See you later, Sonny,” she called as she pushed off, pedaling fast, and soaking in the feeling of freedom as she made her way home.
Home . She’d put the offer in today, laughing in the face of that fear, as well. Deep down some part of her had been considering purchasing her childhood home since she’d arrived in Echo Cove in early summer. The house would be hers, and her parents could take the money to continue their trip around the world.
Opinion: Sometimes the road to nowhere is linear and the road to success is a full circle.
Lyla’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She put her legs down and used her feet to stop her bike along the roadside, kicking up dirt as she skidded to a halt. She pulled her phone out and saw Bob’s name on the screen. “Hey, Bob,” she answered, as she admired the landscape ahead. The colors of fall were in full effect. Reds, oranges, yellows, and browns painted the blur of trees before her.
“You’re quitting?” Bob practically yelled, getting straight to business. “You don’t quit until I say you quit,” he demanded, stressing every syllable.
“My contract is up, Bob,” she said calmly. “I’m not signing the new one.”
“And just what do you think you’re going to do, huh?” Bob asked in an almost mocking tone. He sounded angry, but Lyla knew better. She recognized the screech of desperation that she heard. Bob was scared.
“Write a book. I’m going to write a novel.”
Bob began to chuckle. “You’re more delusional than I thought. Everyone and their mother wants to write a book, Lyla. Not everyone is cut out for it though.”
“Maybe not, but I am.” Lyla ran her opposite hand over the smooth cream-colored leather of her bicycle seat. “I appreciate the years we’ve worked together,” she said, meaning it. If not for her column, she might not have realized how cynical and bitter life was making her. She could easily look back to all her opinion articles and see the progression from someone who was curious and excited to a woman dulled by life’s blows. If not for this summer, she might have continued down a path that didn’t lead to happiness.
“Yeah, well, good for you.” There wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in Bob’s tone. “You aren’t that special of a snowflake. I can find someone else to write those opinions for the column. Don’t think I can’t.”
Lyla waited for the fear to grip her, but it didn’t. There was no trace of anything other than peace with her decision. “Goodbye, Bob.” She disconnected the call and shoved her phone back into her pocket, feeling freer than ever. Free as the wind that pressed against her back and lifted her fiery red hair along the sides of her face. Sliding back onto her bike’s seat, she took hold of the handlebars. Then she pushed off with her feet on the pedals and coasted back home.
A dog barked in the distance, loud and high-pitched.
Opinion: As long as memories exist, there are no true goodbyes.
After rolling her bike into the garage, Lyla headed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water, taking long gulps. She set the bottle down when the doorbell rang and hurried to open the door. “Ms. Hadley. You’re a little early,” she said.
“I know, I know.” Her older neighbor stepped inside, holding a tray of finger foods. “Where should I put these?”
“On the kitchen counter. The others will arrive soon.” Lyla gestured down the hall. “Do you mind if I go change?”
“Of course not. I’ll answer the door if anyone arrives,” Ms. Hadley said.
“Thank you.” Lyla headed back to her bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft T-shirt. Then she stepped into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face. After running a brush through her hair, she pulled it into a smooth ponytail. Her reflection stopped her for a moment. There was something different about her face, and it wasn’t because of her new dye job. It took her a moment to process. This was what satisfaction and contentment looked like.
Opinion: True happiness is the ultimate facelift.
She wasn’t in the business of writing opinions anymore. All opinions were her own, and even if no one else in the world cared, she did. She heard the doorbell ring again and knew her friends were here. Tonight, they were having a Dinnerware Party. Her. Allison. Bernadette. Ms. Hadley. And Travis’s sister, Bailey. Lyla had even invited her old teacher, Ms. Davis—Louise. Lyla was going to fill her cabinets with BPA-free Tupperware and her home with laughter. And lots of love.
Then tomorrow she’d wake up at 4:00 a.m. and continue writing the book she’d always dreamed of. She had to wake early before her shift at Bean Time Coffee. Sure, some might look at her new lifestyle as a downgrade. In her not-so-professional opinion, however, this new life of hers was an upgrade.
“Lyla-la-la-la!” Louise sang out, calling for her down the hall.
“Lyla, where are you?” Allison called as well. “Come on! The party can’t start without you!”
Lyla gave herself another once-over in the mirror, then turned and headed toward the living room with a spring in her step. The couch and recliners she’d purchased at the secondhand store a couple weeks back were full. The countertop was also full, covered with delicious homemade dishes and sugary treats. A lot of moments had seemed to repeat this past summer, but never in her life had she hosted a house full of friends. In fact, she was sure that all the déjà-vu moments and coincidences were over. Now all she needed to do was focus on the future—which, from this viewpoint, looked brighter than ever.
Lyla looked at Allison. “So, how do we start this Dinnerware Party?”
Allison sat on the couch and crossed her legs. “It’s your party, Ly. How do you want to start it?”
“With drinks?” Bernadette suggested. “That’s always a good place to begin.”
Lyla laughed and gestured to her kitchen counter. “Be my guest. We can all pour a drink and have a toast to get us started. How about that?”
“Great suggestion,” Ms. Hadley agreed.
Once everyone had a red Solo cup in hand, Lyla raised her drink, prompting everyone else to do so as well.
“A toast to new friends and new beginnings.” Lyla tapped her cup to those around her.
“A toast to new neighbors,” Ms. Hadley added.
The cups remained in the air.
“A toast to old friends, as well.” Bernadette scanned the group, her gaze landing on Lyla. “And old enemies turned friends.”
“Hear, hear.” Lyla looked at Allison, who hadn’t said anything yet.
“A toast to . . .” Allison seemed to ponder what she wanted to say. It was rare that Allison was ever at a loss for words. “A toast to memories, new and old, good and bad.”
Lyla thought she saw her friend put on an invisible mask for a moment, forcing a wobbly smile. It only lasted a second before Allison exhaled and seemed to relax. She didn’t need to mask with the folks in this room. She didn’t need to pretend that everything was perfect, because it wasn’t. That didn’t mean it wasn’t full, though.
“A toast to loved ones who may not be here physically with us,” Allison said, “but who are always here in our hearts.”
Lyla held her cup up in the air with one hand and reached for Allison with her other hand. Everyone else reached for Allison as well, holding her until the invisible mask slid away and Allison’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not crying because I’m sad,” she said through shallow breaths. “These tears are because I’m so overwhelmed by the amazingness in this room.”
With a serious face, Louise began, “ Amazingness is not a word,” then interrupted herself. “Sorry! Once an English teacher, always an English teacher.”
The group laughed.
“Are we done with the toasting?” Lyla looked around.
“One more,” Allison said, sniffling softly. “A toast to good Dinnerware. Like friends, a woman can never have enough.”
They tapped their cups and drank their wine. Afterward, they all sat back and laughed until they cried, and cried until they laughed.
Lyla awoke with a start the next morning, lifting her head to see that Allison was in the bed beside her. Allison was a lightweight and had drunk too much last evening, and she’d fallen asleep on Travis’s side of the bed.
Quietly, Lyla climbed out of bed. Peeking in the living room, she soaked in the sight of Travis sleeping on her couch. Making as little noise as possible, she poured ground coffee into a filter and turned on her coffeemaker. As she waited for her coffee to brew, she looked at her back window. The cypress tree had been dragged away by Travis, but the stump remained. Travis had sanded it down and used some of the wood to create a bench top that sat on the old stump. She looked at a Dr Pepper bottle on the kitchen counter now. It no longer held soda, but it wasn’t exactly empty. Inside, she’d dropped ten items to remind her of the last couple months, which had been life-altering, to say the least.
Stepping over to the new time capsule, she began to pull the items out one by one. A bottle cork from The Sippy Cup. This exact cork was the one from the first bottle she’d shared with Allison when she’d first arrived this summer. Next, she pulled out a business card for The Handyman and laughed quietly. Travis was and forever would be her handyman. Reaching into the bottle again, she pulled out a receipt for the shovel she’d purchased from Mr. Tibbs and then a party favor from Bailey’s wedding. All these were memories from one of the most amazing summers she’d had, full of highs and lows, but no regrets.
Reaching into the bottle another time, her fingers brushed up against a folded piece of paper. She and Travis had been working on a new bucket list all week, but they only had one to-do on it. The item was written in Travis’s handwriting.
Travis and Lyla’s Forever Bucket List
· Get married and live happily ever after.
When he’d written the lines a few days earlier, she’d immediately started crying.
“Bad luck if you don’t check that item off, Ly.”
“Well, I don’t want any more of that.” She’d stared at him for a long moment, her thoughts racing. She was almost scared to believe it was true, because bringing her hopes up that high would surely bring a painful crash if it wasn’t. “Not a prank?”
“Not a prank.” There was something vulnerable in his expression as he waited for her answer. He hadn’t even asked a question, though.
Finally, she’d taken the pen from his hand and checked the hand-drawn box on the paper.
“Is that a yes?” he’d asked.
She put the pen down and leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Yes.”
It was a simple proposal, but that’s all they needed.
With a sigh, she reached into the bottle now and pulled out one last item—a page from the diary she’d written in the summer that she was eighteen. Last week, she’d added a final entry. Then she tore it out, folded it neatly, and placed it inside. Because this wasn’t about the past, as journal entries usually are. It was more about the future.
Dear Diary,
I was wrong. I never needed to go off to find myself. Actually, I left Echo Cove and got lost. Now I’m back and I’m grateful for all the mistakes and the journey because they led me exactly where I want to be. Ten years from now when I dig up this new time capsule and open you, dearest diary, I hope there will have been many more mistakes because they create change for the better. I also hope there will be many more friends, laughs, and the little moments in between that make life full.
Opinion: Bottle up the ordinary moments. It’s the ordinary that leads to the extraordinary memories of a lifetime.
See you in the next ten years, Diary.
Yours Truly,
Lyla, aspiring author, best friend, daughter, and future Mrs. Handyman