CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Dad says we can have the boat again this Friday,” Paige says, sitting in the chair beside me, eating a stick of licorice. “You want to come?”
The “we” in that sentence is her and Jarrett. They are honestly, officially, finally together. And with summer drawing to a close, Tanner’s gone—and good riddance. Thomas’s family left yesterday too. I’m not sure if Gia ever won him back or not.
I can’t say that I really care.
“I don’t think so,” I tell her.
She narrows her eyes. “I know you’re still all heartbroken, but you can’t keep moping around all the time.”
Technically, I can.
“Come on. Trenton’s coming too.”
“So?”
She gives me an exasperated look. “Trenton’s fun. You like him.”
“Are you really trying to set me up with your brother?”
Paige makes a horrified face. “Ew—no. I just want you to leave the campground.”
“I’m going to have to pass.”
She points at me as she walks toward the door. “You have one more week to walk around like a zombie, and then I’m staging an intervention.”
“Goodbye, Paige,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Oh.” She pops her head back in the door. “Dad wants to know if your mom would be willing to take us school shopping again this year?”
Just the thought of my mother makes me clench my teeth.
“Something up with you and your mom?” Paige asks, noticing my expression.
“No, we’re fine,” I lie. “I’ll ask her later.”
“Okay…”
I look up. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
She raises an eyebrow.
I sigh. “Honestly.”
Without further argument, she slips out the door, informing me she’ll call later. I return to the reservation sheet in front of me and answer the phone when it rings.
“Hi, hon,” an elderly female voice greets me. “This is Gretchen at Site Twenty-seven. We’ve noticed that Twenty-nine has been empty for several weeks now, and we were hoping we could switch spots. There’s a lot more afternoon shade over there.”
“Twenty-nine’s not available,” I say rather sharply, and then I soften my tone. “Sorry.”
I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t bear to see someone else in it. Not yet. Soon Mom or Mark will figure out I’ve been keeping it vacant, and then they’ll make me an appointment with a therapist. But until then, it’s not going to anyone else.
***
“I’m thinking about hiring someone to help in the office when you go back to school,” Mom says as she flips through a stack of mail.
I glance at her and take another bite of cold cereal. She knows how I feel about hiring someone.
“Mark stays too busy, and I’m hoping that I’ll sell more after the art show.”
Things are going well for her. Mr. Albert commissioned five more pieces yesterday.
“Okay,” I finally say.
She sets the mail aside and puts her hands on her hips, turning toward me. “All right. Why are you acting so irritated with me? At first, I thought this moodiness was because Landon left, but it’s been weeks.”
I pick up my bowl and dump the leftover milk down the sink. “I’m fine.”
“You aren’t fine. Tell me what’s going on.”
Slowly, I turn to her. I know I shouldn’t, but I just can’t help myself, so I say, “Is that what we do? Talk about the big, important things in our lives? Because I’m pretty sure we don’t.”
She catches me by the arm before I walk out the door. “Enough of this. What’s going on with you?”
“Maybe a better question would be what’s going on with you and Uncle Mark.”
She rears back like I slapped her and opens her mouth like she’s going to say something. But no words come out.
I give her several moments to come clean, brace myself for the inevitable excuses. Shaking my head, sick of just about everything, I walk out the door.
“Wait, Lacey,” she hollers after me.
I almost don’t turn back, but there’s something off about her voice.
“You got something in the mail.” She holds out an envelope, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.
Hesitating, I stand here, wondering if going back now will ruin my dramatic exit. It probably will, but I don’t get mail, and curiosity wins.
I take the envelope from her and frown when I see it has no return name or address. As I’m studying it, trying to decide if I’m going to open it now or later, Mom softly says, “I’m sorry.”
From the corner of my eye, I see how she nervously shifts.
“You weren’t supposed to find out—” she silences me with a hand in the air when I start to snarl. “Because we knew it would hurt you. We didn’t want to tell you if it was something fleeting.”
“What about Dad?” I demand, lowering my voice.
Her eyes soften, and she shakes her head. “He’s gone, Lace. He’s been gone for eleven years.”
“But Mark’s his brother.”
She gives me a helpless shrug. “These things just happen sometimes.”
Not to us. To other people—messed up people. We’re supposed to be normal. Maybe a little broken, but normal nonetheless.
Are they going to get married? Am I going to have to live with them both under the same roof? Mark’s around all the time, but it would be different.
And what if they decide to have more kids? Mom’s only thirty-eight. It’s not impossible. Then my sister or brother would also be my cousin.
If that’s not dysfunctional, I don’t know what is.
“I’m sorry we hurt you,” Mom says. She sets her hand on my cheek like she used to do when I was little. “I really am.”
“I know.” And I mean it. I don’t think she ever meant to cause me turmoil, but it was inevitable. “Now what?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“Are you guys…together now?”
Slowly, gauging my reaction, she nods. “I think so.”
Yuck.
“Okay,” I say, tapping my palm with the envelope. I start to turn away, and then I look back, sensing this is a good time to test the waters. “What if I wanted to go away to college? Or just leave Gray Jay completely after I graduate?”
Her face falls. “Because of Mark and me?”
“No.” A little bit maybe. “Because of me.”
“You don’t have to stay here, Lacey. I grew up here, loved this campground with all my heart. I knew when your grandparents wanted to sell, I had to have it. Your dad shared my vision for this place. But that doesn’t mean our dream is yours. You need to do what you feel is best for you.”
“Really?”
She crosses her arms, cracking a smile. “Well, everything might fall apart when you leave, but we’ll manage.”
Maybe hiring someone to help in the office will be the first step.
“And even if you leave for a while, years even, it doesn’t mean you can’t come back to Gray Jay down the road.”
I think about actually leaving—packing the Jeep and taking off on the road I’ve seen so many people disappear down. Could I do it? Am I brave enough to say goodbye to the only place I’ve ever called home?
“But you have plenty of time to decide,” she points out. “You have to graduate before I’ll let you go.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “I kind of figured that.”
“I love you, Lacey.” She pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry if I’ve relied on you too much, made you feel like you could never live your own life.”
My eyes mist up, and I nod. I’m about to leave, but now that we’re talking—or rather, now that I’m talking to her—there’s a question that’s been burning inside me for weeks.
“Why did you want me to date Landon so badly? Didn’t you realize it would end like this?”
Her face softens. “Can I be honest with you?”
I almost tell her it would be a nice change, but I purse my lips and nod.
“You were driving me insane with your spreadsheets and laminated charts.” She smiles to soften the words. “After Thomas, you holed up in the office, working all the time. I just want you to be teenager while you still have the chance.”
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes, almost smiling. “My laminated chart is awesome.”
She laughs—really laughs—and shakes her head. “I know.”
We’re both quiet for a few moments, pensive. Finally, sensing I’m at my emotional quota for the day, she says, “I’ve got to get to the studio.”
I nod. She squeezes my shoulder and then walks away. I stand in the yard, all alone, feeling lost. Everything I’ve ever known is changing.
After a moment, I rip open the envelope. My breath catches, and I bite my lip to keep from breaking down.
It’s a postcard. Landon’s standing on a sunset beach, smiling. His arm is slung around a girl’s shoulders, and she’s looking at him, laughing. She has reddish brown hair, freckles across her nose, and eyes that are the exact shade as my mother’s.
He used photo manipulation software to put me in the picture.
“Wish you were actually here,” is scrawled across the back in a masculine mix of print and cursive. “All my love, Landon.”
All his love.
I blink a few times, shove the card in my pocket, and march my way to Site Twenty-seven.
“Gretchen?” I ask when I see an older woman sitting in a chair under her awning. With the way the site is situated, they’re mostly in the sun.
“Yes?”
“You guys can have Twenty-nine if you still want it.”
“Is it available?” she asks, her face lighting up.
I nod and shove my hand in my back pocket, feeling for the postcard. The Tillmans are far away, enjoying the coast. They’re not coming back anytime soon.
And that’s okay.
It has to be.