Chapter 19
My relationship with my dad was complicated. But Father’s Day still hits hard every year since he’s been gone.
“Thanks for closing up early today.” Marilee sighs from the passenger seat of my dad’s red sports car, which I’ve taken to driving around when I don’t want to walk. “It was nice to go visit them together.”
“Yeah, it was.” I put the car into Park beside Lucy’s Corolla, pull the keys from the ignition. The house’s front window is dark, which probably means Lucy is in her bedroom. Possibly sleeping, given the late hour. Reaching over, I squeeze Mare’s elbow. “I’m glad I was here this year.”
And even though my sister and I are good, the same old guilt pricks me—because for the last five Father’s Days, Mare has had to visit the cemetery alone. Or maybe Lucy’s gone with her. She’s a good friend like that. Regardless, I’m doing things differently now. Even after I return to L.A., I’ll be back for the important stuff. Mare and I only have each other now, and I’m not going to abandon her like I did before.
We both climb from the car and pad up the porch steps, entering the house quietly so we don’t wake a potentially sleeping Lucy. But then I see that the back door is cracked, and I can make out her profile there on the porch swing. She’s sitting in the dark, under a blanket of stars—and an old quilt of Mom’s—and even though I know it would be better for us both if I went straight to my bedroom, her very presence is like a beacon, calling me, calling me home.
“I’m headed to bed. Early shift at work.” It’s Mare’s turn to squeeze my elbow. “She likes hot chocolate.”
I know what she’s implying. Well, not even implying. Straight up saying in that Marilee way of hers. “I shouldn’t.” I say this without looking away from Lucy.
“Have you thought about what I said a few nights ago?”
I’ve tried not to, really, but of course, the wisdom in my sister’s words has been locked in my brain for the last forty-eight hours. Still, I’m not any closer to knowing what to do with these feelings or thoughts.
So I simply shrug.
“If nothing else, will you check on her? She spent all day celebrating her uncle, and even though she probably won’t say it, I think today’s hard on her too.”
I close my eyes. Of course. Lucy lost her own dad a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean she’s “more used to” the loss a day like today brings. Giving my sister a nod, I trudge into the kitchen and find the ingredients to make homemade hot cocoa.
Mare heads to bed while I work, and soon I’ve melted and whisked and waited until it’s perfection. Pouring the cocoa into two mugs, I head for the back door and nudge it open with my foot.
Lucy’s head jolts toward me. “Hey.” Her eyes widen at what I’m carrying. “Did you make me something?”
“No, both of these are for me.” I laugh when she sticks out her tongue, then gently hand off a purple-and-pink mug to her. “Mind if I join you for a minute?”
She shakes her head and shifts over a bit to make room for me, pulling the quilt toward her with her free hand. When I settle onto the swing—the wood creaking with my efforts—she flings the far edge of the blanket over my lap. The movement is so quick, so casual, that I know it’s not calculated. She’s not trying to get all cozy with me. She’s just being considerate.
“Thanks,” I say, angling my body so I’m facing her, one of my legs bent and resting on the bench, right up against her side. I start to move it, but then she looks up at me again, and I can’t think of anything I want more than to be close to her. But right now isn’t about that. Right now is about checking on her. Being her friend. “How are you doing today?”
Lucy purses her lips together and holds the mug between her hands. “Today was…” Her gaze finds the sky. For some reason, the light above us seems to reach farther tonight, like it’s going on forever past the horizon. Maybe that’s the thing about contemplating death and mortality and loss all day long. The expanse between this world and the next—the veil—doesn’t seem quite as thick as normal.
Finally, Lucy finds her words. “Today was a lot of things. It was good to be with my family. That’s always good. My uncle is kooky but a good man, and I love him. His goodness reminds me of Daddy—the little I remember about him, anyway.” She takes a sip of the cocoa, hums as it flows down her throat. “I was so young when I lost him, that sometimes I wonder if I’m remembering him right at all. Or if I’m really just creating a version of him in my mind, you know? A version where he’s all good, nothing bad, nothing annoying. I’m sure he wasn’t perfect, and yet, I don’t remember a single bad thing about him.”
I’m silent, sipping on my own hot chocolate. Because in some ways, I wish my experience was like hers.
She looks over at me. “What are you thinking over there, Flake?” Her nickname teases me, wrapping around my heart and squeezing.
I can’t tell her. Can I? But she knew my dad. Knew the kind of man he was. A good man, when it all boiled down to it. One who would never have cheated on my mom or his taxes. One who supported his family with integrity, who helped out in the community, who despite his faults, did love us.
And yet, sometimes all I can think about is the bad.
What does that say about me?
“I’m more interested in what you’re saying than in what I’m thinking.”
“So that’s how this is gonna go, hmm?” She just shakes her head at me, her finger tapping the porcelain surface of her mug. “Hardly seems fair. And here I thought we’d finally agreed to be friends.”
Ugh, she’s right. No matter what else Lucy is to me, I do want to leave Hallmark Beach with us being friends at least. And friends share—even when what’s inside is ugly.
I sigh and force my gaze away from her. Up toward the sky, where I squint and stare at the patterns in the stars. When I see what I’m searching for, I lean toward Lucy. “Hey, look. You see? That’s Ursa Major. The Great Bear.”
“Really? I’ve never really seen a constellation before.” Her hair brushes my shoulder as she tries to follow my line of sight. “Hmm. I’m not sure I’m seeing it.”
I angle my body down a bit so I’m right up against her, can see things from her perspective. My finger traces the stars in the sky. “See it now?” My face turns toward her, and her hair tickles my nose.
“Maybe.”
I drop my arm so my hand rests on my lap. “That’s okay.”
She sighs and lets her head fall back a little, and when it comes to rest against the edge of my shoulder, neither of us move away. We sit that way, drinking our hot chocolate, silently watching the stars for a while.
“I didn’t know you were into astronomy.”
“I’m not really. It was more Dad’s thing.” Probably a way he was able to “escape” Hallmark Beach without leaving the town limits. To dream of far-off places he’d forfeited by moving here. But I don’t say that. Instead, I reflect. “He wanted both Mare and I to take up an interest in it too, but only I really did. I think…” My fingers tighten around the handle of my mug. “I think I was desperate to connect with him, you know?”
“Because you and your mom had cooking.” She says this like it’s a fact, like she’s not even asking. Because she knows. She was there.
“Yeah. And he never really approved of that?—”
“You don’t think he liked that you cooked?”
“Oh, I know he didn’t. He called it a waste of time.” The memory of it vibrates in my mind. “Thought I should be using my time for a business or law internship or volunteering at the hospital or doing something that would eventually put me on the path to ‘real success,’ not something unstable. Cooking was too much like the arts for him. For most people, hard to eke out a living.”
“Blake, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”
I shrug, and her head bobs a bit with the movement. Oops. “You know he always wanted me to get into sports—not because it would lead to a long-term career, but because it might get me a scholarship, connections I could use for the big career he had planned for me. That’s the only reason I really played football, did track and baseball. I mean, sure, I enjoyed playing, but I was always itching to get back into the kitchen to experiment some more.”
“You’re really good at it. But I did like cheering for you from the football stands too.”
The thought of that fires up my insides—though not as much as thinking about how much she enjoys my cooking. “Thanks. Either way, I’m grateful for your support.” And I know I shouldn’t, but I reach for her free hand and give it a friendly squeeze. But then, I just…don’t pull away.
Neither does she.
I stare at our hands, an electric warmth pulsing through them, and clear my throat. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. “Anyway, as you know, he encouraged me to go to business school. To get my MBA. And I wanted to make him proud more than anything. But I think also…I kind of wanted to stick it to him. To show him that I could do something I loved—something that he didn’t think had merit—and make it wildly successful.”
“And that’s why you push yourself so hard?”
“I guess so.”
“But are you happy, Blake? Surely your dad wanted success for you because he wanted you to be happy. He had his faults, sure, but he wasn’t a cruel man. He loved you guys.”
AmI happy? “I guess I haven’t really stopped to think much about happiness. The last decade of my life has been all about getting to the next thing, you know? Finishing one degree, then another. Apprenticing at the best restaurant I could. Becoming a manager so I could learn the ins and outs of the business. Putting together a business plan so I can reach the ultimate pinnacle—creating a successful restaurant. Maybe getting a cooking show. Dale said he knew some people, thought that could be a possibility.” I close my eyes, suddenly tired at the thought of all I’ve done and all I still have to do. “But it’ll all be worth it when I get there. When the dream is finally achieved.”
Gently taking my empty mug from me, Lucy leans forward and sets it along with hers on the ground beside the swing. Then she turns to face me, one leg tucked under her, one dangling over the swing’s edge. The moon and stars are streaming light onto her golden hair, and her blue eyes are reflecting their shine. “And that will make you happy?”
“You make me happy.” That’s what I want to say to her. The thought surprises me. Does being here with Lucy actually make me happier than the thought of achieving the dream I’ve had for more years than I can remember?
What would happen if I stopped striving? What if I just…stayed here in Hallmark Beach? Pursued something with Lucy? Gave up that “dream” of my own restaurant? Traded it in for something different?
Would I be happy then?
But Dad gave up his dreams for “happiness” and warned me against doing the same. Does that mean I’d have the same regrets?
My head starts to hurt. I blink the thoughts away. “Happy enough, I guess.” Then I tilt my head. “What about you? What makes you happy?”
She tilts her head, and her ponytail swings to the side. “I’m not like you. I’ve never had some grand dream for my life. No steps to follow. I mean, I did intend to go to college, but then your parents died and…”
“You stayed for Mare.”
Lucy shrugs. “And for me. I’m not sure I was going for the right reasons. I don’t even know what I would have studied, you know? It just felt like I was stuck, like I should go do something more.” Her fingers pick at a loose thread on the multi-patterned quilt. “Honestly, I’ve felt like that again lately. I mean, I’m doing my best to keep the restaurant going for Winona, but when she gets back, then what? I go back to being a waitress? But maybe that’s okay. I don’t know what else I’d do, anyway.” She breathes out a sigh. “Maybe it’s enough to just live my small-town life, love my people well, and enjoy the small quiet moments.”
“Small quiet moments, huh?” That actually sounds nice. And I can’t help but add, “Moments like this?”
She smiles, something soft and wistful and warm in it. “Just like this.”
And suddenly, I wish that I was the kind of guy who could enjoy this moment here with her, without worrying about what comes next or what’s expected of me or what I’d be giving up. Because Lucy deserves a guy like that—someone who will stay in the moment with her, soaking up every bit of sweetness and care she has to offer.
I want to be that guy.
I just don’t know how.