A Bird on a Windowsill (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Savannah 

(23 Years Old)

Day 6,593

I
’m rooting through an old box I stuffed full of ticket stubs for movies I don’t even remember seeing anymore and old Valentine’s Day cards from boys I’d much sooner forget, when I find it.

I push the box away with my foot and bring the letter closer.

Vannah,

I haven’t stopped looking for your star tower. I know every day I’m getting closer. I can feel it.

Rusty’s doing good. He does cat things all day. He stares at me while I’m sleeping and while I’m eating and while I’m watching TV. In fact, he pretty much just stares at me all the time. The usual.

Your name is still echoing off the levees down in the bottoms. I went there and listened for it the other day, and sure enough, there it was. Savannah Elise Catesby—loud and clear.

I wish you didn’t have to leave again. I wish I could have gone with you. And I know you have a boyfriend. But I still just wanted you to know this:

One day I met a little girl when I was just a boy. And we spent our days on sawdust piles and teeter-totters. And cherry Popsicles melted into paper airplanes and then late-night movies and then things with wheels. And those days turned into years. And one by one, those sawdust piles dried up. And those old, wooden teeter-totters turned into boat docks and concrete slabs and truck cabs under dark skies and starry nights. But still, that same little girl remained.

And somewhere in all that sawdust and concrete, that little girl stole my heart, and I was too busy being in love to even know it.

I’m going to miss you, Vannah. But more so, I’m going to miss us. Because
us
is a pretty cool thing. And I hope someday you see that, too. Until then, my bird, I’ll just be waiting.

Love,

Eben

I finish and reread one line:
I was too busy being in love to even know it.

My heart sinks.
How did I not see that?

I’m letting the old words soak in when I notice a stack of Polaroids. I set the letter down and pick them up.

“Our memories,” I whisper, under my breath.

I shuffle through the photos, stopping to remember the moment I took each one. And with each one, I know my smile is growing wider.

“Savannah.”

My heart almost leaps right out of my chest.

I look up to see Salem standing in the open doorway to my house—Lester’s old house. It’s a nice day; I was just letting the place air out a bit.

I quickly stuff the letter back into the box.

“Salem?”

“I saw your car out front,” he says.

“Oh.” I haphazardly try to capture the stray pieces of my hair and stick them back into my ponytail.

“You wanna get some lunch?”

My eyes fall to my sweatpants and old tee shirt.

“You look great.”

I start to laugh. “I don’t. ...But I’ll go.”

He waits, as I stand up, still holding the photos.

“What do you got there?”

I stop and follow his gaze to my hand.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I shake my head and hide the Polaroids under a book on the table. “Just let me get my keys.”

“Sure thing,” he says, rocking back on his heels.

“T
his is weird.”

“What’s weird?” I ask.

“You and me. You and me, sitting down, talking about our days over cheeseburgers.”

I smile. “Well, technically, they’re just burgers.”

Tiny wrinkles form at the corners of his eyes.

“Who runs out of cheese?”

I shrug. “Diners run by friends of Dillon Denhammer run out of cheese.”

He lowers his head and laughs to himself.

“But anyway, I don’t think it’s that weird—you and me eating some lunch, that is.” I take a bite of my burger.

“Savannah, I never thought I was gonna see you again.”

I stop chewing and look up. There was something in his voice—some frail, vulnerable piece—that made me take notice.

“Why would you think that?” I ask, after I swallow.

He shrugs. “Because I had no reason to believe I would.”

His sharp thought stabs right into my heart and stays there. When I made the decision not to write back to him, I don’t think I ever intended never to see him again. I think I just...didn’t think at all. I think I just made a choice that I knew would get us through the next few days, and maybe the next few months.

“And then one day,” he goes on, “there you were, in that newspaper office, just standing there, staring back at me.”

I fight back a small smile.

He stays in my eyes for a few, fleeting moments, and then I panic and grab a fry. “How’s Anna?”

Something in his look shifts, and he clears his throat and stares down at his plate. “She’s good. She just got a promotion.”

“Oh, really? What did she get promoted to?”

“Oh, it’s another step up in her certification. She does hair at Kerlin’s Salon.”

I smile. “That’s great.”

“She’s really excited,” he adds, as I take another bite of my burger.

“Whatever happened with you and Andy?”

“Who?”

“The high school boyfriend.”

“Aaron?” I ask.

“Yeah, maybe it was that.”

I laugh on the inside.

“Turns out he was cheating on me.”

“Oh,” he says, looking sorry now that he had ever brought it up. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I didn’t lose too much sleep over it.”

“Really?”

“Well, I didn’t. But he might have. Turns out, my friends snuck into his dorm room in the middle of the afternoon and took everything he owned, including his mattress, and threw it out the window and right onto Hudson Hall’s lawn.”

I pick up my drink and take a sip from its straw.

“I had crazy friends,” I add.

We both laugh. We laugh as if we never missed out on all those years. We laugh as if we’re still those same, two junior high kids, hiding out under those stairs. But eventually, it grows quiet again. And I’m okay with the quiet, too. I’m okay with just me and him and my thoughts.

I just can’t believe that same boy I knew when I was five is sitting across from me now. He even looks different from how I remember him at seventeen. The man in front of me is tall and strong and filled out in all the places you’d expect a good-looking man to be filled out in—even down to the biceps peeking out from his fitted tee shirt sleeves.

“Why do you always wear that key?” I ask.

His eyes find mine fast.

“What key?”

“That key at the end of that chain,” I say, pointing a fry at the silver popping out from his collar.

A surprised glow washes over his face.

“Oh, come on, Eben.”

Instantly, he cocks his head. “You called me
Eben
.”

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t called me that since the first day you got back here.”

“Hmm.” I try to think back. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

I push my lips to one side. That’s probably about the time I found out he had a girlfriend. “Anyway, about the key.”

I watch the edges of his mouth slowly turn up.

“That’s the key I gave you, isn’t it?”

He just stares at me, as if he doesn’t know what to say.

“How did you know?”

“I always knew,” I say.

His eyes narrow, right before he pulls on the chain. And sure enough, a shiny, little key pops out of his collar.

“You haven’t found it already, have you? And you’re keeping it all a secret for yourself?”

He laughs. “You would know if I just so happened to stumble upon an observatory that belongs to this key.”

This time,
I’m
the one with the narrowed eyes. “Would I?”

He lowers his gaze and smiles.

I want to know why he kept it. And I want to know why he still keeps it around his neck. But I don’t intrude. Not today, anyway.

“You’re gonna find me that star tower,” I say, biting into another fry. “And then, the first thing you’re going to do is find me.”

His lips curve up even more, and then he nods. “Of course. Of course, I will.”

And then carefully, in almost a calculated kind of way, his eyes find mine.

There are sounds from the café—plates clanging, silverware dropping, people murmuring—but they’re all being drowned out by the silence between our stares.

You don’t have to say it, Salem.

I know.

We both know our trip down memory lane is over. It was over long before it ever started. It was over the day I left town six years ago. It was over once I spread my wings and flew back to my temporary home.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Savannah 

(23 Years Old)

Day 6,601

“S
avannah, right?”

I look up from my paint swatches and notice a man facing me.

“Right,” I say.

“I’m Jake Buckler.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it.

He’s a tall guy—clean-shaven, dark hair, pleasant smile.

“You’re running the paper now, aren’t you?”

I nod. “I am.”

“Well, welcome,” he breathes out. “I’m sure you’ve heard that already.”

“Well, it’s more like welcome back, I guess. I grew up...”

“Jake,” Salem interrupts, taking a place right next to me.

Jake falls back on his heels and takes a good look at Salem.

“Salem,” he says. It’s a simple acknowledgement.

“Hey, I heard you were going out of town soon,” Salem says.

Jake bobs his head once. “Yeah, for the weekend.”

“Well, we should get that lumber order finished up for ya before you leave then. Here, Joey will fix ya right up.”

“O-kay,” Jake says. There’s an obvious hesitation in his voice.

“Joey,” Salem calls back to the register.

Within seconds, a sandy-blond-haired kid, about sixteen, bounces up to Salem.

“What do ya need, boss?”

“Jake, here, needs to finish up his order. Can you manage that?”

The boy bobs his head at Jake. “Sure thing. I’ll get ya taken care of over here at this register.”

The boy faces Jake and points to a corner of the building.

“Okay,” Jake says. He turns back toward me. “Well, it was nice finally meeting you, Savannah.”

“You, as well,” I say.

“Maybe I’ll have to stop by the paper sometime and see how much it’s changed since I’ve been there last.”

Before I can say anything, Salem jumps in.

“Nothin’s changed.”

Both Jake’s and my gaze instantly go to Salem.

“Still the same old place,” Salem says. “All right, Joey will take ya back there.” Salem rests his hand on Jake’s shoulder and points in the direction of the register.

I notice Jake eye Salem’s hand on his shoulder. It’s one of those looks that says he knows more than he’s letting on. Then he smiles politely and follows the boy. And when they’re out of earshot, I look to Salem.

He’s robotically fiddling with the top of a paint can. I know he’s trying to avoid eye contact with me.

“Salem.”

“Hmm?”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

He stops turning over the one paint can and goes to reading the back of another. But I don’t say anything else until he finally looks up at me.

“You know
what
,” I say, in a half-scolding tone.

He shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I give him my best straight face, but then I quickly decide it’s probably just easier to let this one go. “Fine. You got my paint swatch thingy, right?”

“What?” He seems distracted.

“The paper thing that has the paint color I need on it?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I’ve got that.”

“Okay, then, I guess I’ll see you later.”

“See ya,” he mumbles.

I get to my car in the parking lot, throw my bag onto the passenger’s seat and slide in behind the wheel.

“Savannah.”

I look up to see Salem jogging across the black asphalt.

I take my hand off my keys in the ignition and sit back in the seat.

“I’m sorry,” he mouths, when he gets to me.

I roll down the window.

“For back there,” he says. His eyes motion back toward the lumberyard building.

I feel a lopsided smile slowly inching its way across my face. “But why? What were you trying to do? Is he like, a serial killer or something?”

He shrugs and looks down, as if he’s trying to avoid my question.

“Salem,” I scold.

“No. No, he’s not a serial killer...that I know of.”

“That you know of?” I try not to laugh.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve done a criminal background check on him.”

“Salem!”

“What? I just don’t like you talking to him.”

I stare straight ahead, straight through the windshield, trying to figure out what to say next. I’m more than a little speechless right now.

“Look, I know it was stupid. I’m sorry.”

He’s quiet after that.

“Is there something wrong with him?”

He keeps his head down.

“Salem, tell me.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a good guy.”

“Then, what on earth?”

He still doesn’t look up. “He’s a guy.”

I pause because I think I don’t hear him right, at first. But when he doesn’t say anything else, I start to laugh.

“I’m sorry to break it to you like this, Salem, but I talk to guys every day. And I’m still here—healthy and emotionally sound and all.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Out of habit, I press my lips together and narrow my eyes. “Salem, you’re gonna have to help me out a little here. I have no idea...”

“It’s because you’re mine,” he says, looking at the ground again.

Instantly, I feel my brows knitting together.

“You’re my friend. My bird,” he says, with a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m just... I know you’re not mine like that. I know.”

I’m scrambling for words. My mouth is open, but nothing is coming out.

“I don’t know,” he goes on, before I can even think of anything. “Sometimes, I think about other people knowin’ you better than I do, and... They can’t know you better than I do. I mean, I haven’t seen you in a while, I know.” His eyes are shadowed by the bill of his cap. “But I know you, Savannah. I know you better than anybody in this town. And sometimes... Sometimes, I feel as if that makes you mine.”

I still don’t know what to say, but despite myself, something comes.

“I get it.”

That’s all I say, and he just lowers his head so that I can’t see his face anymore behind his baseball cap.

“Do you really?” he asks. “Or are you just sayin’ that to make me not feel so crazy?”

I look into his eyes, now unhindered by the cap. “Yeah,” I assure him. “I do. I mean, sometimes, I think I feel the same way.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like, just the other day, you were talking to Anna... And this is going to sound crazy and totally out of line, but...”

“I don’t care,” he says, cutting me off.

I meet his stare; he’s got this little smile playin’ on his lips. And it makes me smile, too. “Okay,” I go on. “You were talking to Anna at Lakota’s, and I wanted to say
hi
, but I felt as if I’d be intruding, so I just kept on walking, until I walked right out the door. And it wasn’t until I was outside that I stopped. Right there in the black of night, I stopped, and I thought:
But I had him first
.” I let my gaze fall to the steering wheel. “I know that’s crazy, but...”

“Then I’m crazy, too,” he quickly says.

My eyes find his. His are warm and welcoming, happy and fiery—everything I always loved about them.

“Because I had her first.” He keeps his stare in mine.

His words are like spring water to a thirsty desert.

“Do you think we’ll always feel that way?” he asks.

I lift my shoulders and then let them fall, and then I slowly shake my head. “I have no idea.”

The words come out sounding more weighed down than I had anticipated.

“It feels kind of like I’m in limbo with you here,” he breathes out.

I look up at him. My heart starts to pound in my chest. I want him to say he wants me. I want him to say he loves me. Only me.
Not her. Me
. And I want him to say it—if only for the sake of our past.

“But the day you stop looking back,” he says.

And with that, my heart breaks in two. It breaks for an
us
that is no more, as moments trudge on in painful silence.

“Is the first day of the rest of your life,” I whisper.

He lets go of a small, guarded smile and then taps the roof of my car before taking a step back.

Meanwhile, my attention falls to the steering wheel, and I quickly work to put the pieces of my heart back together, until his words slip back into my thoughts.

“Your bird, huh?” I look up at him and try to smile.

He laughs to himself and lowers his gaze before finding mine again.

“Well, this is my windowsill, so you must be my bird.”

“But you forget,” I say, smiling thinly. “I have wings.”

“Well, then why do you keep coming back if you’re not my bird?”

I shrug. “Maybe because I like your windowsill.”

“Or maybe it’s because you like me.”

My brittle grin burns into a thoughtful one. I don’t know if he’s joking or if he really means it. And worse, I don’t know if it’s true or not. I love him, but I’d like him a whole lot better if he loved me, too.

“That might be a little presumptuous,” I say, trying desperately to hide the fact that his last comment means more to me than I think he intended it to.

He tilts his head in my direction and lifts one shoulder before pressing his lips into an easy smile.

“I’ll see you later, Eben.”

He nods and tips his cap.

“Later, Vannah.”