18 My Destiny and Yours Crossed
18
My Destiny and Yours Crossed
“Okay, you can open them.”
My eyes had been closed so long that for a moment, all I could see were bright flashes over a blurry background. I had to blink several times to see clearly.
Then I saw a house with white walls, a green roof, and a delicate fence surrounding a garden full of flowers and vegetables. My mouth fell open in surprise when I noticed a covered carriage with a horse and a girl in a brown, ankle-length dress, a white apron, and lace-up boots, all in the style of another era. Rounding off the costume was a straw hat and long braids tied at the ends.
We got out of the car and she approached us with a broad smile. “Hi, my name is Layla. Can I help you?”
“I’m Trey Holt. I called yesterday to make a reservation for a guided visit.”
“Of course. I was waiting for you.”
Her, the house, all of it confused me. I felt as if I’d stepped into a dream, as if I were floating in some vague space between past and present. But I wasn’t. I could hear a rushing sound in my ears, and my eyes filled with tears. They rolled down my cheeks and fell like huge drops of rain.
I couldn’t believe it. I was at Cavendish. I was at Green Gables. The real farm had never existed, but this was the re-creation of Avonlea that had been built on the island decades ago. My whole body prickled with joy, but a second later, the sorrow hit, quick and hard like a wave from out of nowhere, nearly knocking me over.
There are things you never forget, things that live inside you forever.
Moments that come late.
That should have belonged to someone else.
I turned around and started walking away.
I needed a second to breathe. To pull myself together.
Because I didn’t want to lose that battle with guilt, but I just couldn’t help feeling frail and fragile.
In that moment, a whole world came back to me and vanished at once.
I didn’t know where I meant to go, but I had to try to escape the hole opening up in my chest, all those feelings welling up inside of me.
Trey hurried over and took my hand, stopping me and turning me toward him. He looked worried at first, then when he looked closer, utterly baffled.
“Are you crying? Why?”
I shook my head, unable to find the right words. “It’s…all this.” I groaned, waving my hand past the landscape around us.
“Because I brought you here?” he asked, more and more upset. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d like it. The other morning I got curious, and I tried to find out more about your book, and I learned about this place. I thought it would be nice. After all you’ve told me, and everything that story is supposed to mean for you…”
I sobbed, and the tears fell like a waterfall down my face, burning my cheeks.
“I’m so sorry. Please, don’t cry. If I’d known you wouldn’t like it, I’d never have brought you here.”
“I’m not crying because I don’t like it. It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“What is it, then?” His face was full of uncertainty, and I wanted to kiss him again and make it all vanish.
“When my mother got sick, she promised me we’d come visit here together. I think she wanted it to be just the two of us, so I’d have that memory of her.”
“Did you ever make it here?”
I shook my head, but through my grief I could see something special in the way he looked at me, as if I were the only person in the entire world.
“No. A few days before we were supposed to come, my father came to my room. He told me my mother was sick, that if things got any worse, she might die. I had no idea, and that scared me. And he said Mom had only agreed to make the trip because of me, because I was a spoiled and selfish little girl, and that if anything happened to her, it would be my fault.”
“How old were you?”
“Six.”
“Jesus!”
I heaved again, trying to get some air.
“He forced me to tell my mother I didn’t want to do it. I was so young, and my father scared me back then. So I did as he asked. She died thinking she didn’t matter to me.” I blew my nose.
Trey hugged me, and I squeezed his shirt in my fists. I was wailing. I couldn’t stop the storm that had broken out inside me. I was reliving that entire time as though it had just happened.
“Of course she knew you mattered to her. Trust me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because mothers never stop loving their children. They always forgive. No matter what you do.”
His response moved me. And hurt at the same time. But somehow, it allowed me to crawl out of my grief toward something else. I felt his lips on my hair. A kiss that turned my tears of sorrow into tears of bittersweet joy.
“Harper?”
“Yes?”
“Why does your father hate you?”
“I don’t know.”
I felt relieved, grateful to be held by him. And we stayed that way for what felt like days.
“Forget him,” he told me, his voice angry, grabbing my shoulders and stepping back to look me in the eyes. “Screw him. He can go to hell. You don’t need him.”
“I thought you liked him.”
“I could never like anyone who treated you that way,” he said, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
Even now, it’s hard for me to express what that day meant to me.
We visited the house and looked at all the different rooms, which were decorated with furniture and mementos from the era. I shouted with joy when I entered Anne’s room and saw her brown dress with the puffed sleeves hanging on the closet door. The kitchen, the sewing room, Marilla and Matthew’s bedrooms, the actors walking around dressed as characters from the book… All that was like being inside a bubble outside of time, where the normal rules of logic didn’t apply.
The other visitors felt the same. I could tell by the looks on their faces. For a brief moment, we felt it was all real, that the world we had visited in books actually existed.
After walking through the stables and around the property, we headed for the trails, where the story came to life beneath the trees of Lover’s Lane and the Haunted Wood and on the banks of the Lake of Shining Waters. I thought of my grandmother, how much she would have liked knowing that in real life, the area was just as pretty as she could ever have imagined.
A few minutes away from the farmhouse was Avonlea Village. It was touristy, but cute, with quaint shops and charming little houses. It didn’t look much like the town I’d always visualized, but I didn’t care.
We had pizza at an Italian restaurant called Piatto and bought a big bag of candy at a chocolate shop. Trey liked chocolate as much as I did, and we ended up fighting over the ones that had the toffee center. It was funny to see him acting like a child, running after me as I tried to escape and gobble them down. I stuffed a handful in my mouth and nearly choked on them.
We rested a while on the lawn in one of the gardens before heading to New London, where I saw the house in which Lucy Maud Montgomery was born. The place where her entire world took shape.
In the afternoon, he recommended going back to the hotel so we could shower and get ready for dinner. I thought it was a brilliant idea. I’d been sweating, and I had grass blades and little bits of chocolate in my hair.
We returned to Cavendish, not far from Green Gables.
“Is this our hotel?” I asked.
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
I nodded, mouth hanging open, eyes wide as saucers, staring at the imposing white building that I assumed was the center of the complex. All around it were pretty little cabins. The whole place was like something from a fairy tale.
A nice women greeted us in reception and accompanied us to our rooms on the second floor. Dragging my suitcase upstairs, I felt a tingle in my body like a premonition. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Trey and was surprised to find his head hanging low, his features stiff with worry. But as soon as he noticed I was observing him, all that disappeared. He smiled and winked.
When we entered the room, I jumped on the bed and lay there a few minutes staring up. But what I saw wasn’t the white ceiling above me. Instead I saw dozens of images, shooting past one after the other like a slideshow. I was happier than I’d ever been, and all I could think about was savoring every minute of that night and the day that would follow. Every second next to him. That man who had turned my dull gray world into one that was alive and moving.
I rubbed my lips, remembering when he’d kissed me. And I wondered what I should think of it. We’d been acting like two friends. But then there were moments when we seemed to be stripping each other bare.
Or no. That wasn’t true. Not really.
I was the one who was stripping myself bare.
I had opened my chest for him like a window and shown him the bleeding heart inside. He had seen everything I was. My light. My darkness. My dreams and desires. My secrets. It was as if he had a superpower and could force out of me all the emotions I tried to keep under control. Opening up inside me the space I needed to keep from suffocating.
Trey, though, was closed up. I hadn’t noticed that until just then. Sure, I knew things about him. He’d talked to me about his projects, things he was doing and things he wanted to do. How he loved the mountains in winter and the beach in summer. How he planned to design and build a home one day on the shores of one of the Great Lakes, where he’d live surrounded by dogs when humanity no longer had anything to offer him.
But I knew there was much more there under the surface. I’d caught sight of that something more once or twice, but just hints of it, like that moment on the stairs.
I got up and walked to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was tanned, which brought out my eyes. I didn’t need any makeup, I thought. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and smoothed out the bottom of the flowery dress I’d put on. Then I rubbed my belly, trying to calm myself.
I heard a knock at the door. When I opened up, I couldn’t help but gawk a moment at his body in those black jeans and that black button-down shirt. Then I saw his recently shaved face, so smooth it was hard not to reach up and touch it. He smelled nice, and he was so handsome it hurt. He could probably tell I was thinking that. His smile told me he knew everything, while I knew nothing about him.
“You look dazzling,” he said.
“Thanks. You too.”
“Ready for dinner?”
I nodded, elated.
We got in the car, and five minutes later we were parking next to a country house with cedar siding and white windows. It must have been a farmhouse at one time—the curving roof gave it away. There were planters overflowing with gardenias on the sills of the upper windows. Creeping vines climbed the walls, and all around were big flowerpots with bushes and flowering plants. The lighting was scant, giving the place a romantic feel.
As soon as we were inside, I fell in love with the place. The dining room was small and intimate, and the decoration eclectic, combining old and new. On the walls were paintings by local artists for sale, and there was a bouquet of roses on each table.
A waitress walked us over to a window table set for two and soon returned to take our order. We chose the grilled vegetable and goat cheese salad with vinaigrette, pork loin with mustard and roasted apples, a bottle of red wine, and a couple of appetizers.
“This place is beautiful,” I said.
“You like it?”
“I love it! I know I promised not to ask questions and just go along, but…did you already know about the hotel, this restaurant, and everywhere else?”
“No. I’ve never been here. This is my first time in Cavendish.”
“Then how’d you…?”
He leaned over and reached into his back pocket, taking out a piece of paper that he slid toward me with his fingertips.
“Two things helped me: the internet and the desire to see that smile on your face,” he said. As I looked down at the paper, I thought I should let my hair down so he wouldn’t see the blood rising in my face and making my ears glow. When I unfolded it, I saw a list.
“You don’t want to keep the rest of your plan a secret?” He shook his head, so I kept reading to satisfy my curiosity. Everything was there: names, telephones, distances, right down to the last detail. He’d spent a long time preparing the itinerary. It had taken effort, not to mention money. I looked up at him. “Trey,” I said, “this must have cost a fortune. Let me pay my part of it.”
“No. I told you it was a gift. A gift is something you give someone, not something you ask them to go halfsies on.”
“As a gift,” I replied, “I accept it, but still…this is too much.”
“It’s not, though. I want to do everything for you. I want to make up for how I treated you, even if I know I’ll never be able to.”
“Trey, I don’t need you to make up anything.”
His expression was pained. “I screwed up bad. And it started long before that night.”
“What do you mean?”
“I should have done something about my feelings as soon as I started to realize I liked you. I shouldn’t have dragged it out like that. What happened was my fault. I hurt you, and what I did was wrong, and I can’t stop regretting it. It was a mistake, and I made it worse when I threw you out like that, Harper. I realize I can’t change the past, as much as I’d like to. But I can try to do better now.”
“Trey, don’t punish yourself…”
“I can’t help it! I can’t stop thinking over all that I said. And the fact that we did it. That I was your first time. And that I can’t remember it! I don’t remember what it felt like to touch your body, I don’t remember what your skin smelled like when it was close to mine. I don’t remember your caresses. I don’t remember what it felt like to kiss you intimately, or to be inside you. And that hurts me because I liked you, Harper. I’ve wondered so many times what it would be like to be with you.”
I was speechless and felt a dull ache invading those wounds that I thought had healed. The tense silence stretched on as our eyes met in a stare. I did remember every second of it: his body, his aroma. I remembered his lips, our intimacy, his teeth, his nails, his moans. Our caresses. All we managed to say to each other in silence. All I felt. Him. The void at my feet. How simple it was to jump. Getting lost in his breathing and the beats of his heart. Reaching the summit. Holding each other and tumbling over the edge.
I had a strange feeling, as if my eyes were windows and he could stare into me and see me replaying these images in my mind. And I had a knot in my throat, because everything he’d said had been in the past tense.
But then he spoke again, his voice gravelly, intense: “I still like you. I still think about what it would be like.”
His comment took me off guard. I’d never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. The tension in the air was like electricity. Emotion piled on emotion in my chest: happiness, desire, hope, fear…oscillating, vibrating, overlapping. I was afraid my ribs weren’t strong enough to hold them all in, that they’d explode and send shock waves rippling through the room.
Everything seemed to disappear. The room, the other diners, the entire world. I was silent, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I did know, and I wasn’t ready to open up like that. I was scared to think of us when I didn’t even know if an us was possible.
We stayed there contemplating each other, trying to decipher each other, for more time than I could reasonably count. Then I looked at the paper and realized our dinner was the last item on the list. I was sure we were supposed to be there another day. Was I confused?
“I was thinking tomorrow we could improvise,” he said, as if he could read my mind.
I liked that idea. Just letting ourselves go.
We turned our attention to our meal. The music playing in the background was nice, and the food was to die for. I knew everything, down to the smallest gesture, would linger forever in my memory.
“Tell me about your mother,” he said after we shared a slice of carrot cake with buttery icing. I hadn’t seen that question coming, and I needed a moment to respond.
“Most of my memories of her are like postcards. I might see something that calls up a scene, and then for a second or two, she’s back. But that’s it. I was really little when she died.”
“I wish you hadn’t lost her so young. It wasn’t fair. Not for either of you.”
“You’re right,” I whispered, trying to suppress the tears. “She was a special woman. That’s something I remember about her: the way she could light up a room, the way her laughter drowned out everything. I remember her braiding my hair. I remember her voice when she used to read to me. But in a strange way. Like I couldn’t tell you if her voice was high or deep. It’s different. It’s like…”
“It’s a feeling.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed. He understood me better than I understood myself. “What was your mother like?” I knew I should be careful touching that subject, but I hoped I could break through his shell and find out more about him after the confessions he’d made to me before.
“I think they’re waiting for us to leave,” he whispered, as if I hadn’t asked.
It was true: the tables around us were empty, and the waitress was standing at the bar. We asked her to bring the check, and we left not long afterward. When we got to the car, Trey said we should go to North Rustico, a nearby town he’d seen photos of in his research. On the drive over, I was lost in thought, and he made no effort to interrupt me.
We parked by a café called Blue Mussel, bought a couple of ice creams, and walked to the lighthouse, which wasn’t far. The views there were gorgeous. In one place, the sea pushed inland, forming an estuary that joined the beaches of North Rustico, Anglo Rustico, and Rusticoville. The buildings were few, the lights were dim, scattered like fireflies in the night, and the moon shone in its pale halo in the clear sky. Where the sea met the horizon was absolute darkness.
Trey and I stood there breathing the sea breeze, calm, in peace. It was pure tranquility.
“Tell me what you like,” he said.
“I don’t know. Movies, music, books…”
“I don’t mean simple things like that.”
“What do you mean, then?”
“Let me give you an example. I like to lie on my surfboard and stare at the sun while the waves rock me. I can even fall asleep that way. I like walking on newly fallen snow, getting out in it with my dog, rolling around in it until we’re both soaking wet.”
“You have a dog?” I was surprised. He had told me he liked them, but this was the first time he mentioned owning one.
“Yeah, he’s a beautiful Alaskan malamute named Sisuei. That means ‘blaze of fire.’ I called him that because his golden eyes glow like fire.”
“Well, that’s something you two have in common. Yours glow, too. They say dogs and their owners end up resembling each other, but I never thought it was true.”
He chuckled, but I don’t think it was my comment that did it.
“He’s amazing. He’s just two years old and he’s already huge. He’s smart, intuitive, a little bit mischievous. A friend’s taking care of him right now.”
I liked how proud he seemed of him, and said, “I’ve always wanted a dog, but we were never allowed any pets at home.”
“I’ll introduce you to Sisuei.”
“I don’t think I’m good with animals. My neighbor has this cute little mutt and he hates me. He growls and barks every time I see him.”
“Sisuei will like you.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because he’s just like me.”
“Tell me more of your likes,” I said.
“When I’m in the mountains, I like to get up and watch the sunrise. Something about that moment, the first light of the day, the silence… I don’t know, it’s just calming. I like driving, too. I can do it for hours without getting bored as long as I have some decent music. It’s relaxing.” He took a bite of his ice cream and licked his lips. “Do you know Andrée and Geneviève Grandbois?”
“Are you talking about the chocolate makers?”
“Yeah, Chocolats Andrée and Les Chocolats Geneviève Grandbois. They’re both on Mile End. And I swear, between Waverly and Park, the air smells like chocolate. That’s why I rented my place on Jeanne Mance Street. I like that scent.”
“Are you for real?”
“Yeah. And don’t look at me like I’m nuts.”
It was hard not to, so I turned my eyes toward the ocean covered in shimmering reflections. I couldn’t believe so many stars were visible in that sky. I licked off a sliver of ice cream and savored it, thinking of what a puzzle Trey was, and how hard it was to fit those dozens of pieces together.
“I had no idea that’s where you lived. I barely know anything about you.”
“You don’t have to know a bunch of details about someone to know them. You’ve learned more about me in four days than some people who have been around me my whole life.” He seemed to disappear for a moment, but then, just as quickly, he was back. “You never answered me. What do you like?”
I had to think for a few seconds.
“I like going to Fairmount first thing in the morning, when the bagels just come out of the oven. That first bite, when they’re still hot… Mmmm. I like going underwater and opening my eyes. Feeling like I’m in a bubble where the only thing audible is my heartbeat. Getting lost for hours in a bookstore, any bookstore, just to touch the books’ spines, open the first page, read it, smell it. It’s magical! Going to the aquarium to see the seals. I do that when I feel alone or sad. They’re so funny that they always make me laugh. I like crying during romantic movies. I like going to the botanical gardens and getting lost among those living sculptures; it makes me feel like Alice in Wonderland. You must think I’m a weirdo, like I have this fixation on being other people, but I promise you, that’s not it. It’s just that I did that when I was little. I had so much imagination. Too much, maybe. It’s possible that I still do. And I love to walk, too, without picking where I’m going in advance, just taking off and getting lost.”
Suddenly, the moment seemed to freeze, with me staring at him and him staring at me. To break the spell, I pulled my bangs behind my ear.
“I like walking, too,” he said softly, as though it were a confession. “Especially in the morning, when nobody’s left their house yet, and I can think.”
“What do you think about?”
He shrugged. “Things. Ideas. Like how the world needs more people who mean what they say and say what they mean. Or how much time we waste looking for explanations for life instead of simply living it. How it’s a mistake to believe only in what you can see and hear. Or wanting things to be the same when you’re not even the same. How time passes, but pain doesn’t, but if you stop thinking about it, the hurt doesn’t hurt so bad… Maybe you’re right and the universe makes plans for us without checking with us first, and it was a happy accident that my destiny and yours crossed.” He came closer. “I want to be open with you. And that scares me, because if you see everything that’s inside me, you’re not going to like all of it. And if you don’t, maybe you’ll want to turn your back on me. And that terrifies me.”
A second. That’s how long I needed for my perspective to change. For my mind to stop thinking about everything that could happen and center on what was happening.
Him and me.
Us.
I wished it would last forever.
The light penetrated my deepest shadows. And the truth was there, as if it had fallen from heaven. Bright and clear, suffusing me inside and out.
A new excitement had taken hold, and I wasn’t nervous and I wasn’t resentful. As the ice cream melted in my mouth, other things seemed to melt away, too: my doubts, my suspicions, all the distance that I had put between us.
It was foolish to go on denying the truth. Love happens, even when you don’t want it to. There’s no magic potion you can take to fend it off, no formula logic can use to protect the human heart. And the heart is trusting, even stupid, even foolish. It doesn’t learn from its mistakes. It gives everything; it jumps in with open arms and eyes closed.
And just then, my heart went running toward its master, unable to stop or even slow down what was growing inside it. A feeling I’d thought was lost, but that had actually never gone away. It had only been hibernating, waiting for this moment to emerge, placid, unhurt.
This moment.
A moment of hunger.
A moment of desire that outweighed everything else.
Feeling him. Letting destiny decide if forever was possible.
Gambling. Because the risk was worth it.
I stepped up on my tiptoes and cupped the back of his head with my hand, making him bend down so I could kiss him. I didn’t look away from him, but at last I had to close my eyes. To feel him, feel all of him, more intensely. His body next to mine. His hot breath on my lips.
I opened my mouth, lusting for him, leaned into his chest when I felt my knees go weak, let him hold me up in his strong arms—let our bodies come together, one molecule at a time, turning into one.
When he let me go, the world was spinning around us so fast that I couldn’t move. I hid my face in the gap between his shoulder and neck and inhaled his scent. We kissed each other on the lips, on the temple, on the chin, as I struggled to make myself believe this was real. I felt his palms on my face as our eyes met. Connecting.
Everything was right now. Every piece was in its place.
We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other as we returned to the car. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other in the car, in reception at the hotel, on the stairs, in the hall. At the door to my room, we devoured each other. We separated, faces and lips flushed, and I could see the desire burning in him, all the things he wanted to do. He was holding back, and I was, too.
Neither of us knew what to say. He reached up, stroked my cheek with his knuckles, gave me a brief last kiss.
“Good night,” he said.
“Good night,” I whispered back.
I turned to open the door.
“Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“Does this mean you and I…”
“Yeah. I think so.”
His smile was the last thing I saw as I shut the door.
The last thing I saw when I closed my eyes.