Chapter 22
Faith

“Careful!” Alex said.

She grasped for his hand as Caleb docked the boat, and it bumped against the old wooden planks.

“Geez!” she said as she stumbled. She scraped her hand against a roughened edge of the dock and felt a splinter slice through her skin. “Kind of a rough landing there, Captain,” she said to Caleb.

“You need to work on them sea legs, ma’am,” Caleb said as he secured the boat. “There’s nothin’ wrong with my seafaring skills.”

“You all right?” Alex asked as Faith sucked on her palm. She pulled the splinter out with a wince.

“I’ll live,” she said. “So where is this place? I just saw it on Google Maps. What kind of restaurant doesn’t have a website or Facebook page?”

“The kind of restaurant with good food and strong drinks!” Caleb said. “Don’t worry, it’s just ʼbout a quarter mile from here. We can walk.”

Faith screwed up her face and looked at her wedge heels. They were comfortable enough, but she could tell that by the end of the night the cream-colored soles would be covered in Georgia dust.

“How’d you find this girl?” Caleb asked as the three of them trudged down the deserted street.

“I’d posted on a few genealogy forums,” Faith said. “She was the first, and only, reply.”

“Well that’s creepy,” Caleb said.

“Creepy? Why? How’s it any different than Tinder? Besides the fact that I’m not looking to hook up with her.”

“What’s firewood got to do with this?”

Faith rolled her eyes.

Soon, a strip of neon appeared in the distance. Pirate Cove clearly used to be a plantation home, but it had been kitted out in kitschy tiki decor. Brightly colored bulbs were strung across the patio, and big plastic skeletons, parrots, and treasure chests peppered the property.

“Oh, wow,” Faith said. “I hope she doesn’t judge me for this.”

“What’s she look like?” Alex asked.

“I have no idea.”

Caleb held the door open for both of them. The restaurant was bustling, even with the remote location. In the distance, a crew sang happy birthday to a middle-aged man wearing a pirate’s hat, while drunk college kids downed buckets of margaritas in plastic pails.

“Faith!” A slender girl with golden skin and honey-colored eyes bounded up to her. Long light-brown hair snaked down her back in the kind of beachy waves some girls spent hours to achieve.

“Hannah?” Faith asked. “How’d you know it was me?”

The girl swallowed her in a bear hug. She was shockingly strong for how petite she was.

“I admit it, I stalked you,” she said. “But not till after we talked! Impressive, law school and all.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Faith said with a blush. She’d forgotten she’d been naïve enough to post her full name on the forum.

“And who’s this?” Hannah asked as she eyed Alex and Caleb. “How’d you know I was on the prowl?” she said to Faith with a smile.

“Oh! This is Alex and Caleb. They live on the island. I’m staying in their family inn while I take care of some things.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Caleb said. Faith shook her head slightly. He could really pour on the charm.

“Ma’am!” Hannah said with a laugh. “That’s what I love about doing business down here. I swear, even though I was born in the South, I never get tired of it.”

“Good to meet you, ma’am,” Alex said as he reached out to shake Hannah’s hand.

He had the kind of blazing white smile spread across his face that Faith had rarely seen. Maybe it’s me? He’s met Hannah for less than a minute, and already the girl has won him over better than I have ever managed.

“I already got us a table but thought I’d wait for you up here,” Hannah said. “Come on! I want to figure out if we’re really related. I hope so. You’re gorgeous,” she said to Faith.

They settled into a booth. Hannah sat across from Faith. Caleb scooted in beside her, while Alex languidly slumped into the vinyl seat beside Hannah. “I wasn’t expecting to be accompanied by such handsome men, but I can’t complain,” Hannah said. “Margaritas for all?”

“Sure,” Alex said. Faith gave him a look. Since when does he drink margaritas?

“So,” Faith said as their drinks arrived. “I was so excited when I got your reply—not just about the family connection, but you’re a realtor, too!”

“Yep,” Hannah said as she took a long sip of her frozen strawberry margarita. “I used to be the only realtor working the Georgia islands. But now with the tourism booming and all . . .”

“Lots of competition, I bet,” Caleb said.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Do you know anything about Lydia Capshaw’s property?” Faith asked.

“Aunt Lydia’s place?” Hannah asked. “Sure. I mean I lost touch with her. Let’s just put it that way. Really, it was my mom’s doing. The whole family kind of, well, cut ties back when I was a child. But I’d look up the estimate from time to time. I still remember playing out there as a kid.”

“You . . . you knew her?” Faith asked. Suddenly her lime margarita tasted way too sweet on her tongue.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hannah said with a shrug. “I barely remember her. I think the last time I saw her, I was maybe ten years old? I guess I remember her better than you do, though!”

“What?” Faith said. “I don’t . . . I didn’t really know her at all. I mean, I didn’t remember coming out to Saint Rose at all until I heard about her passing.”

“Well, I’m not surprised you don’t remember her.” She shrugged. “I barely do. Most of what I know comes from my mom. Honestly, she wasn’t that memorable, from what I hear,” Hannah said in a faux hushed tone. “But I have a picture of the three of us together. You wanna see it?”

“What?” Faith’s straw fell out of her drink, but she didn’t bother to pick it up.

“Yeah! Me and you as babies, and Aunt Lydia. Mighta been at her place, for all I know.”

“You . . . you have this?”

“Sure. My mom was super into archiving all the family photos. Got some fancy scanner for Christmas one year. As soon as I saw your post, I started digging through her digital photos. One thing ʼbout Mama, that woman didn’t miss a detail when it came to archiving.”

Caleb and Alex were silent. They pretended to study the menu as the information sank in for Faith.

“Hold on, let me pull it up,” Hannah said as she toyed with her phone.

“I can’t believe this,” Faith said. “This whole time . . .”

“Here it is,” Hannah said. She passed the phone across the table. “That’s me. I was bald till I was, like, two. And you with that full head of hair. And Aunt Lydia and your dad. My uncle.”

The photo was a typical early 1990s snapshot. Faith had a bright-pink scrunchie holding up a side ponytail. Aunt Lydia looked stoic, even in the brightly patterned sweatshirt and overly permed hair. She looked like she was playing dress up but came from a much more serious era. Still, there was a quiet beauty about her. She didn’t look a thing like Faith’s dad.

“I remember you,” Faith said, incredulous, as Hannah tapped through a couple more photos. It was her, the little blonde from her memories. Then again, she knew it would be. “I don’t remember her looking like that,” Faith said softly. She ran a finger over Lydia’s image.

“You’re not missing out on much,” Hannah said as she put her phone away. “I heard about you every now and then when I was growing up. Apparently, you loved being on that plantation.”

“I did?” How could she have blocked something like that out? “Do you know how old I was when I stopped going there?”

“No idea,” Hannah said with a shrug. “Pretty young, though, I’d imagine, a bit older than me. Maybe seven? I heard that Aunt Lydia suddenly got pretty hermitlike in midlife. I don’t know if it was actual agoraphobia or what. But she left that farm and moved into some kind of semi-assisted-living facility.”

“How old was she?” Faith asked. In the photo, Aunt Lydia couldn’t have been older than thirty-five.

“Dunno,” Hannah said. “But it wasn’t for the elderly necessarily. It was, you know, for people who weren’t mentally capable of fully caring for themselves.”

“Oh,” Faith said.

“Anyway, that’s just a rumor. Who knows how much truth is in it? For all I know, she could have had some torrid love affair with a foreign farmhand and run off to Nicaragua. Who knows? I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time she, well, never mind. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that. Sorry.”

“Hear about what?” Faith asked.

“Well, you know, anything about her love life. After your dad . . .”

“You know?” Faith said sharply. She heard the accusation in her voice, and Hannah’s eyes got big.

“I, um, sorry? I thought . . .”

“Does everyone know?” Faith asked. “In the family, I mean? On the whole island?”

“I don’t . . . I don’t know about people on the island,” Hannah said slowly. “But in terms of the family? Well, yeah. It’s, you know, kind of why your dad had a falling out with everyone. I mean, you know that, though. Right?”

Faith felt Caleb’s hand, reassuring on her thigh, but couldn’t even register how nicely foreign it felt. “No,” she said bluntly. “I, well, I didn’t piece it together until a few days ago.”

“But how?” Hannah asked, genuinely confused. “You’re the . . . you’re the one who caught them. I don’t remember it myself, but that’s the story I’ve been told.”

Tears threatened to spill from Faith’s eyes. “There are stories?” she asked. “I . . . I don’t know. I guess I blocked it out. But going back into that house, it brought it all back,” she said. Faith took a long drink from her water glass to buy time.

“Oh my God,” Hannah said. “I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table and took Faith’s hand. “I—I mean I never blamed you, of course,” she said. “My mom absolutely flipped. Refused to ever talk to your dad or Aunt Lydia again. Wouldn’t even tell me your name for years, and I was so little I forgot, so I couldn’t look you up.” Hannah’s voice started to tremble, too.

“It’s fucked up,” Faith said. She sniffed and the tears subsided. “I mean, for my dad to do that? With his own sister? It’s just—”

“Well,” Hannah interrupted. “I mean, it’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad?” Faith and the guys all gaped at Hannah at once.

“What? It’s not like Lydia was a blood relative or anything,” Hannah said. “She wasn’t even formally adopted! She was, like, fifteen and was just taken in by our grandparents so they could be her legal guardians and help her out for a few years.”

“Wait, what? She wasn’t their biological sister?”

“Ew, gross, no! Is that—is that what you thought? This whole time?”

“Well, not this whole time,” Faith said. She started to breathe easier. “I mean, I just remembered what I saw last week.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” Hannah said. “I thought—I thought you knew all that.”

“So who was she then? I mean, why did our grandparents take her in?”

“She was a local girl, helped them out during the harvest. Her mom was a single mom, had her when she was a teenager or something. Just up and left her on the island! Ran off to Vegas. From what I heard, our grandparents just helped her out until she started college.”

“That’s . . . God, that’s so nice to hear,” Faith said. “So then, wow, my poor dad. I mean, first my mom. Then the whole mess with Lydia and the argument with his family.”

“Honestly? My mom and the family totally overreacted,” Hannah said. “I mean, who cares? I don’t know if it’s because Lydia ended up making bank and owning a whole freaking island and they were jealous, or they thought your dad should mourn forever or something, I don’t know. Small-town drama,” she said with an eye roll.

“When she died, it was somewhere on the mainland. I forget the name,” Faith said. She was ashamed to admit that she hadn’t really cared or bothered to look into it. Aunt Lydia was a stranger when she’d found out about the inheritance. Hannah’s picture made her real. The story, the real story, made her—and her dad—people.

“Yeah, how’d you find out she passed away, anyway?” Hannah asked.

“She, uh, she left me her property. The plantation.” Faith wasn’t about to tell Hannah about the lump sum of money.

“Are you serious?” Hannah asked. “That’s . . . that’s amazing! What are you going to do with it? Do you need a realtor?”

Faith smiled at her. She wasn’t ready to trust Hannah, not just yet. But the girl seemed wholly honest and transparent. There wasn’t a flicker of jealousy in her eyes. Maybe this is what having real family is like. “Not yet!” she said with a laugh.

“That totally makes sense, though.”

“What?”

“That she left it to you! I mean, who knows how long your dad and her were together? After your mom, of course. Spending the summers there . . . God, they must have really been in love. And you being his daughter, I mean that’s the closest she ever got to a daughter. You look like your dad,” she said, and she examined Faith closely. “From the photos I’ve seen of him, at least. Aunt Lydia must have totally adored you.”

Faith blushed. “I don’t know. So besides her mom, she didn’t have any family? I mean, blood family, of her own?”

Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Some disgusting creeps of cousins or something,” she said. “Super locals, like backwoods. She never wanted anything to do with them, though.”

“Yeah,” Faith said. The rednecks. “I can see why.”

“So tell me more about your plans for the property! Ideas?”

“I’m not totally sure yet.”

“You better be sure,” Alex broke in. “After you made me spend how many hours at Home Depot.”

Hannah looked at Alex in confusion. “Don’t mind him,” Faith said.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Hannah asked. She tried to make sense of everyone’s relationship. “Do you want to switch seats?”

“No!” Faith and Alex said at the same time. “I mean,” Faith said, “no, he’s not. But he’s done a lot to help me with the property.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m thinking of renovating it. I am renovating it,” she corrected herself.

“Seriously? That’s great! That property could be a stunner with the right touch,” Hannah said.

Faith sighed. “Here’s to hoping.”

“And then what? Are you . . . are you going to move to Saint Rose?”

“I really don’t know yet.” She hadn’t thought about it aloud yet, but was it so crazy? “I guess it just feels good, to own property. Land. Very solid.”

“Very adult,” Hannah agreed.

The food arrived, and Hannah started to assemble her sizzling fajitas while Faith cut into the blue corn enchiladas. “Wow,” Caleb said as he dug into the carne adovada. “Santa Fe-style. Nice.”

They ate largely in silence, and Alex piped up that was a good sign. “Means the food is good.” Faith was thankful for the quiet. She stole glances at Hannah and could still see the little girl in her, in the upturn of her nose and extreme cupid’s bow of her lip.

All four of them turned down dessert, though it took Caleb a minute to truly say no to the tres leches. “Gwen tries, but that’s the one dessert she can’t do,” he said with a sigh.

“You can always take it to go,” Hannah said.

“Nah. Gotta watch my figure,” he told her.

They were one of the last tables to leave the restaurant, and they lingered in the parking lot. Hannah jumped on Faith with another one of her tight squeezes. “Promise me we’ll see each other again,” she said.

Faith laughed. “You act like one of us is going off to war! Of course we will. You know where to find me for the rest of the summer.”

“That I do,” Hannah said. “Right where it all started.”

The guys gave Hannah brief hugs before the trio headed back toward Caleb’s boat. The full moon lit up the dirt road as good as any streetlamp. Faith stole glances at Alex. Why can’t he smile at me like he did at Hannah?

Alex must be around the same age her father had been when that photo was snapped of her, Hannah, and Lydia. Was life so different on Saint Rose all those years ago? Having a little girl, a dead wife . . .

Faith shook her head. That photo of her with Aunt Lydia couldn’t have been taken long after her mother passed away. Her father hadn’t hated Georgia at all. Just hated the circumstances. And the stories, filtered through Hannah, who knew how much of it was true? And now there is nobody left to ask.

But her dad and Lydia? That she knew was honest love. How different could it have been? For him, me, her, all of us? If they’d only given it a real shot, not given a damn what the family thought.

I shouldn’t judge Dad, she told herself. Or Alex—especially just for not knowing what he wants. Poor Alex, she thought. He’s probably just trying to make it through the day.