Chapter 4 Vivien #2
“Okay, but not great,” Holly said. “It’s his right arm, which has to heal before he goes back to school and needs to work on patients. But I guess right is good, since he broke his left when he was nine.” She gazed up at Peter. “Remember that trip to the ER? Ugh. I was a wreck. You were a wreck!”
Vivien took a step back, the intimate memory and Holly’s rattling on making her suddenly feel out of place. She didn’t belong in this family scene, did she?
“Speaking of wrecks,” Holly continued, “I was a mess last night. When Pete called, I couldn’t leave Pensacola fast enough.”
“She got here about two hours after he was admitted,” Peter told Vivien. “We’ve been up all night.”
Vivien didn’t want to say they looked it, but she could certainly see the long night and stress had left shadows on their faces as they stood side by side, like…a couple. A couple that was united again by something bigger than old resentments.
“I can’t imagine the stress you’ve both been under,” Vivien said. “But I’m so relieved he’s going to be okay. Truly.”
“Thank you for coming,” Peter said. “It means a lot.”
“Of course.” She took another step backwards, sensing it was time to leave. “And if there’s anything I can do—anything the family can do—please don’t hesitate.”
“Oh, we’re good,” Holly assured her, inching closer to Peter as she looked up at him. “Pete’s got everything covered, so I can stay with him while Connor recovers. Yes, I’m going to be a hovercraft mom because that’s what I do. Right, Pete?”
He replied with a tight smile, but it wasn’t cool or bitter or acrimonious the way he’d described their relationship.
Well, that was a good thing. That had been what he’d always wanted for his sons. He’d told her that.
But…Holly was staying?
“I just wanted to check in…” Vivien said awkwardly.
“And we really appreciate it,” Holly added.
We. Before Vivien reacted, Peter looked past her. “Oh, here’s the doctor finally.”
Vivien turned to see a tall man glancing at a tablet as he walked toward them.
“Thank goodness,” Holly said, putting her arm on Peter’s shoulder. “Let’s ask him about that weird mark on the X-ray, Pete. I didn’t see it, but your eyes are amazing.”
Feeling very much like an extra piece from a different puzzle, Vivien moved away. “Good luck, both of you. And nice to meet you, Holly.”
“And you, Vivien,” she said warmly. “I’m sure we’ll see you again.”
Vivien stole a quick look at Peter, but his gaze was locked on the doctor, and he was clearly focused on the next step in this process.
“I’ll see you,” she said softly to him.
He shifted his gaze. “Thanks for coming, Viv.” For one second, she thought he was going to hug her, and she was surprised at how much she wanted that. But he just smiled. “We’ll be in touch,” he promised.
On that, she pivoted and passed the doctor, hating that her chest burned a little. Nothing was wrong, she reminded herself. They were concerned parents who should be together at a time like this. Holly had been nice, and Peter had been distracted.
And Vivien…was not dating Peter anymore, so she had no right to feel like she belonged here in this situation.
That made her eyes sting as she walked to her car.
Vivien pulled into the Summer House driveway just as Eli stepped out the front door, moving with the kind of single-minded purpose that made it clear he was not headed out for a casual errand.
His shoulders were squared. His jaw set.
He didn’t even glance toward her car as he marched toward Gulf Shore Boulevard.
“Eli!” she called, shoving her door open and hopping out. “Where are you going?”
He stopped, blinking as if he’d been pulled out of a thought mid-sentence. “Vivien.” Then, without answering her question, his gaze sharpened. “How’s Connor?”
She froze for half a beat, then moved closer to meet him.
“I never actually saw Connor,” she said, realizing it only as the words left her mouth.
“Really?” Her brother looked surprised, his sky-blue eyes wide. “He’s not allowed visitors?”
“I think he is,” she said, “but he was asleep on pain meds and his mother was there.” She lifted a brow toward Eli. “Holly? You’ve met her, I believe.”
“Eons ago,” he said. “I don’t remember her too well. Small? Redhead? Talks a blue streak?”
Vivien pointed at him. “Bingo. Connor is evidently doing as well as expected. A concussion they’re watching, broken wrist, fractured collarbone.
The other guy was arrested for DUI. That’s really all I got, since Peter seemed focused on talking to the doctor.
Oh—and I guess Holly’s going to stick around and help her son navigate life in a cast.”
Eli’s face softened, something like relief loosening his shoulders. “Good. That’s… good.”
The moment stretched, then Vivien tilted her head. “Where are you headed like you’re about to stop a crime in progress?”
His mouth curved faintly, but the tension didn’t leave his eyes. “I don’t think I can stop this crime, but I’m going to Left Coast Bridge.”
She blinked. “Left…oh, you mean the Let Go Bridge.”
He exhaled a dry laugh through his nose. “That’s not its real name.”
“Not officially,” she said. “But tell me one person over forty who’s ever spent a summer in Destin who calls it anything else.”
His gaze slid past her, toward the road. “They’re tearing it down.”
She choked. “They’re tearing down the Let Go Bridge?”
He nodded once. “It is an eyesore, but still. There was a council meeting last week and it got put under ‘safety and infrastructure.’ Apparently, way too many teenagers jumping into the water is a liability nightmare.”
“Well, a lot of us did almost die.” At his amused look, she laughed. “It felt that way at sixteen, but seriously, isn’t it a historic landmark? Does sentimentality count for nothing these days?”
“In Destin? No, but I wanted to take one more look at it.”
“Me, too,” she said, motioning for him to keep walking. “If they’re going to erase it, I want pictures of it first.”
He hesitated, then fell into step beside her as she started down the drive.
They walked in companionable silence for a block before she said, “So. Holly.”
He shot her a look. “I take it you’ve never met her?”
“No, but she’s nice. I do remember that Peter once told me he wished their divorce hadn’t been acrimonious, so I guess this is a good place for them to…heal. Along with Connor.”
Eli shot one more look, this one skeptical and humorous. “I’m sure you two will be great friends.”
“Shut it,” she muttered. “Peter and I broke things off, remember?”
“Mmm. I do. But…” But here she was, walking to the very bridge where once, many years ago, she’d tried to let him go. Obviously, the bridge had failed and so had she.
He didn’t say anything—Eli was too cool to press a point like that. But she had no such compunction with her brother.
“Have you heard from Kate?” she asked as they reached the marina, the scent of salt and fuel mixing in the air.
“Yeah, we text. Talked last night. She’s…”
“Busy with that grant stuff?” Vivien suggested when he didn’t finish.
“She’s working things out,” he said, as clear as mud.
“Eli.” She jabbed him with her elbow as they reached a roundabout and slipped into what had become a construction zone over the past year. They followed a chain-link fence that enclosed this section of a massive jetty.
“Working what things out?” she urged, not ready to let the subject die. “The grant issues or…the love issues?”
“Will you calm down?”
She laughed. “I’m serious. What is she working out?”
“We care about each other,” he said after a moment. “We do. But…some things don’t line up. And you can’t fix that with affection.”
Some things don’t line up. “You mean…your faith?”
“Yeah, obviously, we have different beliefs.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Eli slid her a look. “Another way would be this,” he said.
“I read the Bible every day and live my life grounded in a love of the Lord that I hope permeates my every action. She is a card-carrying, chemistry-loving Senior Research Scientist and Director of the Energy Storage Materials Lab who does not, cannot, and will not give credence to…religion.”
He said the last word as if he were echoing someone’s distaste for the subject.
“Both are valid positions,” he continued. “But there’s not a lot of room for compromise.”
“Anything else?” she asked. “Besides…God?”
He almost laughed. “Is there anything else besides God? Yes, we have issues. We live a thousand miles apart. I have a business in Atlanta and practically have an office here in Destin. She has a big job, teenage kids, and a house in Upstate New York. So there are many roadblocks, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that faith is at the center of anything keeping us apart. ”
“I hope you work it out,” she said glumly as they started walking up a deserted beach, the bridge far enough away to look perfectly fine from here.
“I hope so, too, because I haven’t met a woman I care for this much since Melissa died.”
Wow. She wasn’t sure she knew it was that serious.
They cut around the edge of the jetty, stepping carefully over rocks and sand to get to the orange mesh safety fence surrounding the base of the Destin side of the bridge.
As they got closer, it was easy to see the dilapidated wooden bridge was held together with rusted metal, some sun-bleached boards, and railings that leaned at precarious angles.
The bridge was over a channel that led to the harbor, connecting two “east” and “west” jetties, which was probably how it got the “Left Coast” name.
Of course, the tradition of sixteen-year-olds in Destin jumping off to “let go” of something had transformed that name into something far more lyrical—the bridge where you literally “let go” of things.
Vivien had forgotten about the bridge, with no reason to come out this way, but not her own rite of passage at sixteen.
A yellow sign had been bolted to one post: Danger. No Trespassing. Demolition scheduled.
The structure wasn’t that high and the water under it was calm, so the jump wasn’t particularly dangerous. But oh, so fun.
“Dang,” Eli whispered as he read the words. “I didn’t want to believe this rumor.”
“This place,” she said, voice thick, “was everything.”
They stood there, letting the breeze push against them, the water slapping rhythmically against stone and metal.
“Do you remember your jump?” Eli asked.
She swallowed. “Perfectly.”
Her legs had shaken so hard she thought they’d give out. She’d stood in the middle, heart pounding, clutching a folded scrap of paper with a name on it she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to. She’d jumped anyway because everyone was watching and because sixteen felt like a cliff’s edge.
“You?” she asked.
“I chickened out,” Eli admitted. “Climbed halfway up and decided I didn’t have anything to let go of.”
She smiled at him. “That tracks.”
They edged closer, careful where they stepped, peering at something that had seemed so much bigger when they were kids.
“The summer we jumped,” she said softly, “Kate let go of her fear of being a nerd and still she jumped in with her glasses on.”
Eli cracked up. “Yep. The woman with lost glasses.”
“And Tessa jumped three times, one for every bad decision she’d made…the week before.”
They both laughed at that.
“And you?” he asked. “What did you let go of?”
“Not what, who.” She looked up at him, squinting in the sun. “Three guesses and the first two don’t count.”
He frowned. “Why? Why would anyone give up on a guy like Peter McCarthy?”
“I’ve been asking myself that for a month or so,” she said wryly. “But at sixteen? He was utterly unattainable, already in college. I was a child and he was…your best friend.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have approved of that when you were sixteen.”
“It hurt to like him so much,” she said, her voice giving away her emotions. “Have you ever wanted anything so much you could taste it, but knew you couldn’t have it?”
He smiled. “Sometimes I feel that way with Kate.”
“Well, imagine you’re sixteen and stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid, Viv.”
“I was sixteen, though. So I jumped with a vow to let go of my crush.”
“Did it work?” he asked.
She snorted. “Hardly. The fact is, this bridge is…precious and not just because of our summers. Everyone’s summers. Who’s calling the shots? Where’s the historical commission when you need them? Who tears down a landmark without a fight?”
Eli just smiled and turned around to go home. “I don’t feel like fighting City Hall, Viv,” he said. “I’m busy praying for things that really matter.”
She walked back with him, taking a few glances over her shoulder at the bridge that somehow still seemed important. It could be cleaned up. It could be preserved. It could be a tourist attraction instead of a blemish on the beach.
Who else would understand? Peter, of course.
Why did all roads—and bridges—lead back to him?