Chapter 20
TWENTY
PRESENT DAY
Madeline
I pull open the wide wooden door and step inside Hudson’s Bar, blinking to adjust to the dim light.
Though this place was here when I was a kid, I wasn’t twenty-one yet, and I wouldn’t have been allowed inside.
It’s pretty much what I would have expected though.
Dark wood paneling covers the walls, giving the room a vague resemblance to an old ship.
Over the wood, faded photos of lighthouses and ocean sunsets hang almost out of obligation—it’s a beach town, after all.
Nobody is coming here for the art, though.
It’s a place to unwind after a long day of dealing with tourists in the summer.
And in winter, it’s a place to get out, chat with a friend, and escape the darkness and numbing ocean winds.
To my left is a pool table where a couple of people in casual shorts and faded T-shirts choose pool cues from a rack.
They look to be about my age, and I wonder if they’re friends with Adam.
Or, I guess he said his name is Garrett.
I should probably call him that if I don’t want to draw attention.
Approaching a bunch of strangers and asking them if they know my dead boyfriend probably won’t have the effect I’m hoping for.
I’m not sure what I’m hoping for, though, and I need to figure out my strategy. Locals on this island look out for their own. I can’t just barge in here and start asking questions about one of them. Just the fact that I’m an unfamiliar face in this bar might ruffle some feathers.
I’m not exactly a tourist, though. I grew up here and belong as much as the next person.
Turning my attention to the bar in front of me, I take in more shipwrecked wood, draped with fat jute ropes straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean .
Behind the bar, liquor bottles line a shelf beneath a giant plastic marlin.
Before I do anything, I should probably order a drink.
The bartender is a pretty, dark-haired woman with tanned skin and toned arms, probably from lifting all those beer kegs and ice buckets.
Or maybe she’s one of the surfers I saw earlier.
She seems to be about my age. I don’t recognize her from growing up, but she looks like someone I might have been friends with.
I’m about to approach when she slides beer bottles in front of two men at one end of the long bar and then props an arm on the shiny wood to chat with them.
My gaze singles in on one of the men, and my heart flips.
It’s Adam— I mean Garrett. I thought I’d maybe get some information about him, but I can’t believe my luck that he’s actually here .
His drinking partner is another dark-haired man, and I’m pretty sure he’s the surfer I saw on the beach earlier and briefly mistook for Adam.
I take a few steps back into a dark corner to watch them.
The other surfer picks up the beer, takes a drink, and leans casually back on his stool.
He’s doing most of the talking, telling a story and emphasizing a point with a wave of his hand.
Garrett takes the second beer, but he doesn’t drink it.
Instead, he slowly spins it in his hand.
His shoulders hunch, and though he smiles at his friend’s story, there are deep worry lines across his forehead.
I wonder if anyone else notices. Does he always look like that or does his pained expression have to do with our encounter on the beach?
Garrett’s companion pauses to take a call, turning his body slightly away as he presses the phone to his ear.
I take a beat to consider how I’m going to play this.
After Garrett drove off, I went back to the motel to shower and change as my thoughts swirled with the events of the afternoon.
I didn’t imagine his surprise when he looked at my face for the first time, or that immediate jolt of attraction that I’ve only ever felt with one person.
And if he recognized me, then he’s intentionally hiding and lying, and I deserve to know why.
I leave the safety of my dark corner and cross the room, sliding onto the stool on the other side of Garrett.
He’s staring at his beer bottle and doesn’t notice, but the bartender sizes me up.
Not used to seeing a stranger in here, I’d guess.
She puts a cocktail napkin in front of me and asks what I’d like to order.
“I’ll have what he’s having.” I hitch my chin at Garrett’s drink.
She nods and turns around to grab a bottle from the cooler as Garrett glances in my direction. His face is tan, a little weathered, with fine lines that crinkle around his eyes. This man is exactly what Adam would look like if he’d spent the last decade doing manual labor and surfing in the sun.
His eyes widen with that same surprise I saw slide across his face on the beach. I’m even more convinced that Adam is sitting in front of me, so when his blue eyes narrow and he barks, “Are you kidding?” I can’t help the acid that seeps into my reply.
“Did I tell a joke?”
He spins in my direction. “Are you following me?”
“How would I have followed you? You kicked up so much dust peeling down that street earlier, I nearly choked to death. I thought for sure there was an emergency. But it looks like you were just eager to get to your beer. ”
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “After the day I had, I needed a beer.”
“I get it,” I say, nodding for emphasis. “It’s not every day you run into your girlfriend who thought you were dead.”
His eyes widen. “Keep it down.”
“They don’t know you’re Adam?” I wave a hand at the people across the bar.
“I’m not Adam,” he hisses. “I want you to keep it down because I’m afraid someone will worry for your well-being and call the authorities.” His eyes narrow. “Or maybe I should call them. Stalking is illegal, you know.”
“I’m not stalking you.” I smooth my face into the picture of innocence. “I’m here for a drink.”
With impeccable timing, the bartender sets my beer in front of me. “You need anything else?”
“No, thank you. This is perfect.”
She hesitates for a moment, looking from me to the storm raging on Garrett’s face.
“What about you?” she asks him, but I get the feeling she’s not inquiring if he wants more refreshment.
It’s a protective question. For a moment, I wonder if the two of them are more than friends, and I’m alarmed at the pit that the thought leaves in my stomach.
Garrett shakes his head, and the bartender leaves to serve another customer.
“This is a locals’ bar. And you’re definitely not a local.” Garrett’s harsh tone has me sliding back in my chair. After losing my home on Sandy Harbor, Adam would have known how much that statement would hurt me. Garrett doesn’t seem to care.
I give him my haughtiest look. “For your information, I grew up here.”
His eyebrow raises. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“How long has it been? ”
“About ten years.”
“Sounds to me like you’re a local somewhere else now.” He cocks his head. “Where is that place again?”
I name Maple Ridge, looking for signs that he already knows where I’m from, or maybe that he’s surprised I still live there.
When Adam and I were planning our future, we’d talked about moving to a beach, maybe in the Bay Area near Josie, or somewhere in Florida.
The location didn’t matter as long as we were together.
I want to tell him that he’s the reason I stayed landlocked in Maple Ridge and didn’t follow my dream of living by the water. His death left me stuck, unable to move on or let go. I want to tell him that when he was swept away in that river, he took my heart with him.
Garrett takes a casual drink from his beer bottle. “Sounds to me like you’re a tourist now. So, enjoy your vacation, and then head back to Maple Ridge.”
The thought of returning home in two short days presses on me.
What if it’s not enough time to figure out if Garrett is really Adam?
I hurt Jason and ended my engagement so I could come to Sandy Harbor and find out the truth.
How can I go back home and move on with my life when all I have to show for it are even more questions and fewer answers?
And what would my life in Maple Ridge even look like without Jason in it?
I stare down at the drink in my hand as a sliver of sadness pierces me.
I started this, and now I need to see it through.
“Maybe I’m not heading back, maybe I’ll stick around for a while.” I blurt it out, not thinking it through, but as the words leave my mouth, so does the weight in my chest.
Garrett narrows his eyes. “What do you mean for a while ?”
I give an exaggerated shrug. “I’m thinking of staying for the summer.
That would qualify me to have a beer in a locals’ bar, don’t you think?
” What am I talking about? I can’t stay here for the next few months.
What would I tell my family? And Jason? But my words are out there, and I don’t regret them.
I remember the rush of joy that came over me at the ocean breeze on my face and tingle of salt on my skin.
Maybe I’m not only here to find Adam. Maybe I’m here to find a piece of myself that I lost a long time ago.
Garrett smooths his face into a neutral expression, a move I’m discovering he’s good at. “Where are you staying?”
I press my lips together because of course I don’t have anywhere to stay.
The clerk at the motel was clear that I needed to be out by Monday, and I’m sure all the other hotels are equally booked.
The houses on the island have probably been rented since December, not that I could afford them on my teacher’s salary anyway.
On the other side of Garrett, his surfer friend hangs up his call and swivels in his chair to face us. “Hey.” He gives me a nod. “I’m Ian.”
“Madeline.” I eye him now, looking for signs that Garrett mentioned me. But he doesn’t react other than to give me a friendly smile.