Chapter 37
Lark
Two months later . . .
Harbor’s been adjusting my graduation cords as if they needed to be.
They don’t.
But I’m not going to say anything because I’ve become his sun and he, my moon. We can’t stray far from each other’s personal space before our gravitational pull brings us back into orbit.
I wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s why I’m going to New Haven with him. Yale awaits. We found a cute apartment just off campus, so we can walk to school together, and it’s not a journey too far home when we stay late at night.
I’m so grateful that things worked out how they were supposed to. If I hadn’t received that letter from Yale, telling me they took another look at my application during a holistic review, I wouldn’t be making a new home with him.
Home . . . Harbor.
No apartment or house can be what he means to me, but I still look forward to our little haven together.
Straightening his graduation gown, I then put his tassel on the right side to make sure everything’s perfect. Perfect is what our life has been. I shouldn’t jinx it, but I won’t discount the last nine months as anything less than magical. I lift and kiss him. “Are you ready?”
“As much as I ever will be.”
Graduation has put my emotions through the wringer. Not only am I graduating from college, but I’m moving away from the only town I’ve ever known, from my dad and Amanda. The only saving grace is that my new adventure comes packaged with my soul mate onboard.
Something tells me Harbor must be going through the same because he’s not quite been himself for a while. It’s not personal to me. He treats me like a queen, but I wish I knew how to make him feel better, to get him excited about the move to New Haven.
He says, “I should get in line.” When he takes my hand between us, it doesn’t feel like he’s holding it, but more that he’s holding on to me. My heart clenches. He kisses me, and then says, “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” He cups my face, not caring that we’re in front of hundreds of people. He kisses me hard with intention, with promises, with all of him. “I love you, Lark. Remember that, okay?” He winks and gives me that sexy smirk that captivates my heart all over again.
“Okay.” I swoon over this man so much. “I’m proud of you, too,” I say, but he’s too fast to tell him the same, disappearing into the buzzing crowd behind me.
Summerlin isn’t that far from Westcott in the scheme of things, but it feels like a million miles away right now.
We’re finally in a single file line when we feed into the gymnasium and take our seats. I look back to find him but don’t want to make a scene by standing. I don’t see him, so I turn back just as the ceremony begins.
We get through the first couple of speeches when I receive a text from my dad pinpointing where he’s sitting with Amanda.
I look for the scoreboard and then in the middle of the rows, spotting them because Amanda is waving furiously to get my attention.
My dad just raised his hand from his lap, but he’s grinning.
Before I turn around, I scan the seats once more for Harbor.
There are hundreds of graduates, but it shouldn’t be this hard to find the most gorgeous man alive.
Yet it is.
Another failed attempt has my chest tightening. I pull out my phone and text him: Where are you?
I wait for a reply, knowing it’s loud in here between the announcement of the graduate’s names and the people cheering. But why wouldn’t he feel it in his pocket?
Glancing back, I still can’t figure out where he would even be sitting. How many rows? How far over? He’s a big guy and hard to miss, but I’m missing him.
The “P” graduates are passing on the stage, receiving their diplomas when my phone finally vibrates. I scramble to see his text: I’m picking up my paycheck after the ceremony, and then I’ll go to your dad’s for the party. Just a heads-up.
Huh? What paycheck? I look at the name at the top of the messages—Amanda.
That makes more sense.
What the hell, though? I look back again, lifting on my hand to balance. Another scan and I still don’t see him. My row is summoned to stand before I have a chance to text again. I walk down the aisle, searching row after row behind me.
The pit of my stomach grows heavy with worry. Something’s not right. I need to see him. I need to see that Harbor was real and that this wasn’t a dream. I’m about to detour back at the end of the row, but the professor herds us forward toward the side of the stage.
I pull my phone out and start texting Amanda: Do you see Harbor?
I send and then type: Have you seen him at all since you’ve been here?
Amanda finally replies: Haven’t seen him. You know my eyesight is crap. Maybe he’s using the bathroom. Remember when I missed Taylor Swift because I had an irritable bowel as soon as we arrived at the stadium?
As much as I’d love to travel down memory lane, I send another text: Hard to forget your IB that night. Hey, do me a favor and look for the Westcotts. They should be here somewhere.
The stage is only a few feet ahead when she replies: I don’t see his family, but I can’t make everyone out.
I’m told to shuffle forward to the base of the stairs. I tuck my phone into my pocket and then straighten the graduate robe over it. Holding my head high, I climb the stairs and wait until I hear, “Lark Summerlin.”
I start walking, but my gaze drifts to the graduates at the back where the W names would sit.
I hate that I make this about him. The moment is stolen after years of hard work.
Face forward, Lark. I force myself into this moment right here and accept my diploma under cheers.
I expected the loudest in the crowd to be my boyfriend, but it wasn’t.
It was my dad. I smile when I hear him, stop, pose, take the photo, and keep walking.
I gallop down the stairs and start back for my seat. This gives me the best perspective to see the remaining graduates. I’m not the shortest person, but I feel it right now. Even on my tiptoes, I can’t see the back left center rows.
Following my fellow graduates, I find my seat again and clasp my hands together on my lap to keep from fidgeting, or from checking my phone every five seconds. I’m surprised not to hear from him.
I’m not sure at what point I went numb, probably around X, but I watch the other graduates alphabetically after me until the last Z crosses that stage.
Nothing makes sense, so when the caps are thrown, I’m rushing through the celebrating graduates.
Caps are landing all around me, and people are hugging.
My name is called a few times by friends I’ve made over the years, but it’s not said by the one person who I want to hear. By the time I reach the back of the chairs, I start turning, searching everywhere—the graduates, the stands, the families, the staff, the aisles, the rafters.
Harbor is gone.
Disappeared into thin air.
How?
Why?
Do I call 911?
What could have happened to make him miss his own graduation?
Was there a family emergency?
He wouldn’t leave me without a good reason.
Could Amanda be right, and he got stuck in a bathroom?
I grab my phone but as soon as I start to call him with my shaking hands, I’m bumped, and it goes flying.
“No. No. No. No. No.” Dropping to my knees, I don’t care how dirty the floor is or if I get trampled.
I just need to find my phone and Harbor.
I find it under a chair with a cracked screen, but it still works, so I call him again.
Holding it to my ear, I push through the revelers to find a place where I can hear. But my call goes to voicemail. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?” I whip around to find my dad there. “Congratulations, Pipsqueak.”
“Th-thanks,” the word comes stuttering out as I try my hardest not to start crying.
My dad nods in sympathy. “Big day. Lots of emotions.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we start for the exit. “I’m really proud of you, Lark. The first in our family to graduate college, and now you’re going to medical school—”
“Dad?” I stop, causing him to turn back.
His brow furrows as he shakes his head. Coming back to me, he asks, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“He’s gone. There are no texts, no missed calls. Nothing. Harbor’s gone.”
“What do you mean Harbor’s gone?”
Tears bubble over my lower lids as I point back at the stage. “Did you not notice they didn’t call his name. He didn’t walk the stage or claim his diploma.”
“No,” he says, “I dozed off after Amanda left. Just briefly.” He sounds guilty when the last thing I care about is him sleeping through the last hour of a graduation ceremony.
“Dad, what if . . .” My tears multiply, falling down to the floor of the last place I saw him.
I’m brought into a hug, my dad holding me like he did when I was a little girl, stroking my hair, and promising that everything’s going to be all right. But he can’t keep that promise anymore.
My breath is jagged, but I collect it. “I have to find him. Will you help me?”
“On it.”
Frantic, I start walking again, searching the crowded halls of the gymnasium, and my dad heads in the opposite direction. My gut already knows the answer, my head knowing this is pointless. He’s not here. The beat of my heart, the breath of my soul has disappeared. Just like him.
When few people remain, my dad comes down the hall and says, “I checked every bathroom. He’s not here, Pip. Still no contact?”
“No, none at all.”
He tucks his hands in his pockets. “If you want my opinion, I don’t think he’s a missing person.
I think he’s just missing this event. It was kind of boring.
” He half smiles at me and rests his hand on my shoulder.
“You were the highlight.” The emptiness I feel is overwhelming, so much that even the kindest of gestures from my dad can’t help me. “I think we should go, Lark.”
I don’t remember walking to the truck or getting in, strapping on my seat belt, or driving away from graduation. The mystery of Harbor’s disappearance was the only thing on my mind. But when my dad got a text on the way to his house, my hands started to shake again. Anxious, I ask, “What is it?”
He pulls up to the curb and leaves the engine running. With his elbow anchored on the open window, he rubs his forehead. He exhales, caught in a conflict of his mind.
My heart starts racing, and I reach over to touch his arm. “Dad? Is it . . .” I can’t say the words or his name, my thoughts running to the worst that could happen.
Dad gets out of the driver’s seat and shuts the door. Leaning in the window, he says, “Go see the Westcotts.” He taps the top of the cab and then turns to walk up the path.
“Why?” I call, leaning over from the other side of the truck.
“I don’t know, Pip. It’s best you talk to them.”
The panic I feel inside worsens, but I don’t rush to the driver’s side and take off to The Pointe Estates. I sit on the passenger side, my mind going wild with what might be happening or already did. I’m not sure, but my heart tells me I’m not ready.
Taking a breath and then a longer one, I exhale and slide over the bench behind the steering wheel. I shift into gear and start the journey.
It’s only twenty minutes if there’s no traffic, but it’s the longest drive of my life. I don’t know how long it took, my mind reliving every detail of the last time I saw him and every word we spoke. “I love you, Lark. Remember that, okay?”
That’s why they didn’t call his name to accept a diploma.
This was planned all along.
That’s why his parents weren’t there.
He knew he was leaving.
That means . . .
He was leaving me.