Chapter 25
Nora
Everything is moving too fast.
This is almost laughable coming from a city girl, who weeks ago, got annoyed with slow drivers, dawdling customers in a coffee shop, and anyone who took longer than thirty minutes to reply to an email.
But that was before.
Now that I’ve tasted this slower life, I don’t want to let it go. Maggie showing up to photograph the house caught me off guard. It’s always been the plan. Fix it up to sell.
That was when I assumed I’d return to New York, to my boyfriend, to my job, to my life.
It’s all a mess now. The one person who could fix it with her sage advice, no-nonsense attitude, and unconditional love is gone. She died and left all these pieces to put together.
None of them make sense.
I mean, part of me knows what I want. Some may think breaking up with Denver and quitting was irrational or rash. It felt right to me, though.
Still, I’m caught between two worlds. Mom is in the city. I hate the idea of being so far away from her. And now, here? I have Elias.
Slow, grumpy, shockingly sweet Elias.
We’ve only dabbled into this relationship. It’s a budding flower that will need nurturing. If I leave to go back home, we’ll need to make a go of it long distance until…
Until what?
That’s the million-dollar question.
By staying, and looking for a job here, I’m putting a lot on the line that things will work out with me and Elias. I have no proof that it’ll happen. Just the way my heart flutters when he’s near or how safe I feel in his hold. He’s gentle and calm in a way I didn’t know I needed.
Is it enough?
Will I grow bored after some time?
I consider all we’ve done since I’ve been here. Boredom is the least of my worries. I’m not sure why I’m so anxious about it all.
There’s a decision to be made and it’s coming soon.
Do I stay or do I go?
After Maggie’s photoshoot, the house will be posted online. Potential buyers will be coming to see it. With the market in Budgie Bay, the cottage will be snatched up quickly.
Too quickly.
As I pull the mail from Grandma’s mailbox, I can see Elias standing at the window, watching me with a worried frown. He’s so handsome and caring. I know what my heart is calling me to do.
But is it smart?
What will Mom think?
She doesn’t even know I’ve fallen for this guy.
Uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach. Will she resent me for following in her mother’s footsteps? Will she feel abandoned by her own daughter who deep down wants to remain in Budgie Bay?
I pull out the stack of mail and close the box. Grandma spent a lifetime here, her every thought and action revolving around her husband. The love she carried for him until the day she died consumed her.
Some would call it romantic.
Others, like Mom, call it stupid. A waste of a life.
I quickly sort through the junk mail but stop at a handwritten letter. It’s addressed to Goldie Everhart and is from Janey Kerrigan in San Francisco.
After making my way to the porch swing and sitting down, I tear open the letter and pull it out. Elias is no longer watching from the window which makes my heart leap at the loss.
Dear Goldie,
This may be a long shot but hear me out.
My name is Janey Kerrigan. I’m a nurse at Serene Water Memory Care Facility in the San Francisco Bay Area. I’ve only been on the job for about six months or so but have come to grow incredibly close to one of the residents here.
They call him John “Linnie” Doe.
My heart rate speeds up as a breeze tickles my hair and rustles the paper.
He’s a kind gentleman whose favorite thing to do is sit outside under the big tree watching the birds. Often, I sit out there with him, and we chat about the different ones. For the most part, he’s calm and singularly focused on the birds.
Sometimes, though, Linnie says things.
Things that matter, I think.
At first, I indulged him and listened as I do for all our residents. However, I started detecting a pattern.
Bay. Strawberries. Gold. Boat. Baby. Home. Linnie. Rescue.
My superiors have written it off as random mumbling, but I can’t let it go.
I read his file. Linnie came to the facility decades ago as a homeless man decades ago with head trauma.
They found him wandering on the coast of Northern California.
Since he spoke about the bay, they brought him to San Francisco assuming his people were from that area.
No one ever came for Linnie.
Because I’m sort of like a dog with a bone, I’ve made it my mission to find his family to help bring the elderly man some closure.
After some searching on the internet for these keywords, I came across your column at the Budgie Bay Gazette.
What struck me is how each time, you sign off with the same thing.
“The strawberries are ripe and ready for picking, Amos. Grab some chocolate on the way home.”
I gasp, letting the junk mail flutter to the porch floor, and clutch the letter tight in my grasp. The breeze has stopped and I can’t seem to suck in enough air. This can’t be possible. There’s no way. I quickly continue reading.
Your name is Goldie, you live in a bay, you rescue birds, and you mention strawberries to someone like you’re still waiting for them.
Is this me reaching or have I really found Linnie’s home?
I’m not a stalker, I swear, but I was able to hunt down your phone number, email, and address. You haven’t responded to the first two, so I figured I’d try it the old-fashioned way via snail mail.
I pray to God I’ve cracked the case for him. He’s a sweet man and I hope I can reconnect him with his family.
If this is all something fantastical I’ve made up in my mind, please do me the courtesy of letting me know. I’d like to put this lead to rest and search in another direction. I’ve left my cell number at the bottom for you to call me directly as my superiors won’t approve of my meddling.
Sincerely,
Janey
P.S. I included a picture of him in case this helps.
I scramble to look inside the envelope and find the photo.
When I lock eyes on electric blue eyes that match both mine and my mother’s, every muscle in my body stiffens.
The sound that comes out of me is soft and guttural at first. Then, it becomes a wail.
By the time it reaches hysteria-level screams, Elias finds me, dropping onto the bench beside me.
“Nora,” he says, voice tight with worry. “Talk to me, honey. What’s wrong?”
I burst into tears and thrust the letter at him. He reads through it much quicker than I did. The words that come out of his mouth are fowl and certainly not Grandma-approved, but I was certainly thinking them.
“What do we do?” I croak out.
He hugs me and kisses the top of my head. “We pack a bag. We’re going to California.”
Panic consumes me at what this could mean, but then a strawberry-scented breeze washes over me. My dragonfly friend lands on the letter, flutters its wings, and then zips off.
We’re doing this. We’re really doing this.
The ten-hour drive to San Francisco was not my first choice for transportation considering we could have gotten there hours sooner by plane, but it did give me time to calm down and think.
When I needed Denver most, he kept me busy with work and held me back from the closure I needed with my grandma.
Elias packed our bags, loaded and gassed up his truck, and drove us late into the night to our destination.
I was in a daze, but he handled everything for me.
Booked a hotel room with two beds, made sure to feed me, and assured me his brother, Corbin, would house sit and care for the budgies while we were gone.
This is the realness I’d craved with Denver but never received.
Loving someone is more than just grand gestures or date nights or pretty flowers. It’s caring for you in your lowest points when you don’t have it in you to care for yourself.
My heart entwines a little more with Elias’s. It further complicates my decisions, but right now, I don’t have to think about it.
It’s possible we’ve found my grandfather.
In my gut, I know it to be true.
“Do you want to call your mom?” Elias asks as we park at Serene Water Memory Care Facility.
As much as I want her here to be a part of this, I can’t do that to her. Not until I know for sure. She dealt with Grandma for decades as she wished and waited for Grandpa to come home. I need to be one-hundred percent positive.
“Not yet,” I say shakily. “I’m ready to do this.”
He climbs out of the truck and moves faster than I’ve ever seen him go. Then, he opens the door for me and helps me out. Our fingers thread together and it’s grounding. It feels right. Like I can be stronger with him by my side.
Partners.
I chew on my lip, so I don’t start crying. I’m grateful for Elias. He loved my grandma when we weren’t around. I’m sure that love will never go away. She would be so pleased to see us doing this together.
As we approach the facility, I quickly send Janey a text letting her know we’re here. When I’d texted her yesterday saying we were coming, she was thrilled and hopeful. For everyone’s sake, I want this to be real.
A nurse waves at us near a tree where an elderly man sits in a parked wheelchair beside her. The tiny sprite of a woman must be Janey.
“Are you Nora?” she calls out.
“That’s me.”
She waves us over and studies me intently. I’m afraid to look at the old man in case we’ve got it all wrong. But finally, I force my eyes to lock with his.
Same eyes. Just like in the photo.
Except in person, they’re real. Like Mom’s. So familiar. Loving.
“G-Goldie?” he chokes out, tears welling in his electric blues. “Is it you?”
I can tell he’s confused. Understandably so. I’ve seen pictures of Grandma when she was younger. We’re very similar.
Letting go of Elias’s hand, I slowly approach what I now know to be my grandfather. I kneel in front of him and take his weathered hand in mine.
“I’m your granddaughter, Nora, and your name is Amos Everhart.”
He makes a choked sound as tears race down his cheeks. I swallow down a sob so I can be strong for him. Elias gently touches the back of my head, sending me immense comfort.
“I’m Amos,” he says, nodding, as though he knows that name. “I’m Amos.”
His eyes skip past me as if searching for someone else. My heart breaks for him.
“She’s, uh, gone, Grandpa.” I start to cry, hating that I can’t be as strong as I want to. “It’s just us. And Sandy, my mom.”
He turns his head to look at me, face distraught. But then, he repeats her name over and over again. Joy sparks in his wet blue eyes. “I have a baby. Sandy.”
Sniffling, I nod. “She’s all grown up now, Grandpa, but yes. Sandy is your daughter. Do you want to see her?”
“So badly,” he tells me tearfully.
I rise to my feet and pull away so I can find my phone. Then, I FaceTime my mother. When she answers, she’s putting office supplies into a closet at Ron’s work.
“Hey sweetie,” Mom says as digs more reams of paper out of a box. “What’s up? How are you feeling after the proposal fiasco?”
I’d texted her after the drama to let her know. So much has happened since then. I feel a bit nervous to turn her world upside down.
“It’s fine,” I say, brushing off that minor event in comparison to this one. “Um, I have something to tell you. You’re going to want to sit down.”
Her blue eyes flash with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Lovebird? It’s me, Daddy.”
She blinks at me in confusion and frowns.
“Mom,” I say, tears flooding my eyes. “We found him. We found Amos.”
Her head starts shaking back and forth in disbelief as if this is some cruel joke.
“He’s alive. Grandpa is alive.”
When I flip the phone around to show her Grandpa, Mom screams.
“It’s okay, Lovebird. Daddy’s here.” Grandpa smiles shakily at his daughter. “I’m going to take care of you now.”