Destiny Ever-Changing (9 page)

"Okay, Will. What's wrong?" I know he rarely drinks hard liquor unless he is upset about something or stressed out.

"What are you talking about, Brooksey boy? I'm just fine! I guess you can tell that I've been celebrating a little bit."

"Yes, I certainly can. What's the occasion?"

"I broke things off with Sara, and it was about damn time. She was about to bleed me dry, and I'm not talking about only money. The woman sucked every bit of life out of me. I couldn't do it anymore."

"Must be a nice convenience to have," I say enviously. He just laughs and slaps me between the shoulders as we grab his bags and head toward the truck.

Once we get on the road, I notice that he keeps looking over and staring at me. "What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

He grins and studies my face. "How are you holding up in all of this mess, Brooks? You don't look so good. You look pissed at the whole world. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears."

"Is it that obvious how happy I am?" I ask sarcastically.

"Very much so, my friend, but I know just the thing to cheer you up. What do you say we kick Jacqueline out and have a guy's night?"

"I love the way you think, but I can't just send her home, you know. We're pretty much stuck together out here. I did get some steaks and a couple cases of beer, so I was thinking you and I could do some grilling, throw the old football around on the beach, and then maybe play some pool."

"Sounds good to me, man," he nods. "I'm game for anything. Oh, hey, I almost forgot to tell you that I talked to your sister yesterday. Ashton wanted me to tell you that she'd like to come up to visit sometime in the next week, so she wants you to call her and let her know when would be the best time."

It's not like my little sister to travel without the rest of the family, so I start wondering what is going on. "Where did you see Ashton?"

"It's not what you think, man. I'm not putting any moves on your sister, I promise. She called me because she is worried about you. We both decided that we should come up here and distract you before you blow your top."

"It's good that you're here, and I hope you plan to stay as long as you like. I would be lying if I said that things have been going smoothly. Just last night, she locked me out of the yard
and
out of the house."

He chuckles raucously. "What
has
been going on since you got here?"

I fill him in on the events of the last week as he listens intently. He seems to be getting an enormous amount of joy out of hearing about my mishaps with Jacqueline. I leave out all of the details about Laura; I know he would read more into it than what is actually there. Once I finish telling my story, he tells me all about the break-up with Sara.

We finally make it back to the house, and just before I pull into the drive, Will punches me and starts pointing up the drive. "Who is
that
fine-looking woman?"

"What the . . ." I see that Laura had pulled into the drive just before I did and is getting out of her car.

Judging by the look on Will's face, it appears that I'm not going to be able to leave out the details about her much longer. 

Chapter Seven — Lost and Found

Laura:

Those suspicious footprints are truly concerning me. It appears that someone came directly to Nana's house and turned around. Perhaps, I am simply overreacting; someone could have made it their turn-around point just as I did with the stairs last night. What if I am wrong, though? Nana did say that she prefers keeping everything locked up because there are a lot of odd people on the beach. It just doesn't make sense to me. It would have had to be someone that was out walking in complete darkness last night or just before sunrise this morning. I don't know who it could have been unless . . .

Brooks?

Surely, it wasn't him. After witnessing his mood last night, I wouldn't be surprised if he were still sitting right there on that step. I'm extremely baffled by him. I hardly know him at all, but he has a certain allure that I can't put into words. I feel an attraction to him, but just when I sense he may feel the same, he acts completely uninterested and detached. There is something mystifying about him, and that makes me uncomfortable. Of course, I appear to be going for the wrong type of guy again. I think I need to follow my gut and stay away from him. Not a single one of these mixed-up, rambling thoughts explains whom I saw on the beach last night, though.

I glance down at my watch and realize that I've been out here two hours. I'm amazed that Nana hasn't been out looking for me to come eat breakfast; I realize she's going to be forcing meals down my throat. I head back up toward the house and dust the sand off of my legs and feet before ascending to my room. I pull out the only two changes of clothing that I brought in from my car and settle on the most comfortable, since I know that I'll be unpacking my things from the car all morning. I slip on my favorite t-shirt, an old pair of ripped jeans, and flip-flops, and I head over to the house to check in on Nana.

"Nana?" I call out as I enter the front door.

"In the kitchen, Laura," she replies. "Come on in here. Breakfast is almost ready."

As soon as I walk toward the kitchen, savory aromas fill my nose, and my stomach immediately growls fiercely. I step through the door, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. The granite countertop is set up buffet-style with several platters and bowls filled with homemade goodness. There are steaming, fluffy biscuits, a bowl of scrambled eggs, a plate of thick-sliced bacon, a bowl of sliced fruit, a platter of French toast, and a gravy boat filled with warm gravy.

"Nana, what are you trying to do to me?" I ask, laughing.

She shrugs her shoulders. "I can't help it. It's my right as your grandmother to spoil you; besides, I thought it would cheer you up a bit. I made all of your old favorites."

"I can't say that I'm upset about it. I'm absolutely ravenous right now!"

"Well, then," she says as she shoves a plate into my hands. "Dig in!"

We both pile our plates full of food and sit quietly for a few minutes as we eat. I need to have her teach me how to cook like this. Nothing I ever cook tastes even remotely this appetizingit's no wonder I stay so thin. On second thought, maybe I
don't
need her to teach me her secrets if I want any hope of keeping this figure.

"I saw you out on the beach this morning," Nana breaks the silence.

I nod. "Yeah, I woke up just as the sun was rising, and I felt a sudden urge to go watch it. After that, I guess my thoughts carried me away for a while."

"Are you getting anywhere with those thoughts of yours?"

"Would you consider going in circles getting anywhere?" I ask. "I keep thinking the same things over and over again, and I can't seem to get past all of that."

She reaches across the table and puts her warm, soft hand on mine. "You will, Laura, but, first, you have to realize that there are some problems that you won't be able to solve. You just have to learn to let it all go and forgive yourself and anyone who hurt you, but it won't be easy. Trust me, once you tear those walls down, you'll be able to get to the core of what it is that you want and need out of your life."

"I'm sure you're right, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that. I don't know if I have any amount of forgiveness in me right now, especially for Alex."

Nana smiles. "You can't expect to figure everything out in a couple of days, so just take your time. There are people that are never able to forgive and forget, but those people are bitter and discontented their entire lives. You can't move on with your life if you're clinging to the past, honey."

"I know you're right, and I truly hope that, someday, I'll get to that point. I want to move on, but I think part of the problem is that I'm terrified of what I'll be moving on to."

"Life is all about taking chances and hoping for the best in every situation," she says as she stands up. "I married your grandpa, didn't I? I still think I deserve a bravery medal for that, but it was the most rewarding risk that I ever took." Quietly snickering, she pats me on the head and walks out of the room.

I have a few hours of unpacking to do, so I put my plate in the sink and head out to my car. It's a gorgeous day outside. The sky is clear, and the temperature is perfect. Unfortunately, I won't have much time to enjoy the outdoors today. My objective for the day is to unpack everything out of my car and find a space for it in my new room, which could get interesting. Thank goodness, Nana remodeled and added a walk-in closet, but I doubt everything will fit. Especially shoes . . . they are my weakness.

Thirteen boxes, three duffel bags, and three suitcases later, I have everything out of my car. I was even sure to remove the gift from my Aunt Judy this timeI'll think of a way to permanently destroy it later. My bedroom, however, looks like a sea of cardboard. There are boxes piled in nearly every vacant space of the floor. One by one, I open each box and dump it on the bed, trying to find a place for everything.

I get most of the boxes emptied and put all of my clothes and shoes away, and the room is starting to feel more like home. The closet is full and organized just the way I like it. The dresser now holds a framed picture of me with my mom and dad along with a few of my favorite candles. I have the bookcase full of my beloved books, and the top shelf has pictures of my family and friends. The quilt my aunt made for me rests on the back of the small sofa in the living area. Across from the sofa, Nana has a small TV and DVD player on a stand, where I stack my favorite movies. It almost seems like I have my own apartment again, and it feels great to have some of my independence back.

By two o'clock, my stomach is beginning to growl, so I run next door to heat up some fried chicken left from last night. Nana is upstairs in the loft sewing some new curtains for my bedroom; she insists that the windows need new ones. We are planning to go into town tomorrow to shop for a new comforter for the bed and new towels for the bathroom. She seems to be thrilled by the fact that I am staying here, and her being happy makes me even happier.

After quickly finishing off my delicious chicken and a biscuit with homemade strawberry jam, I run back over to my room to finish up the unpacking. I put two boxes of things to donate to charity into the closet to take later this week, and I shove my empty suitcases and bags under my bed. There is still one box in the floor, and I am unsure what I want to do with it. It's the box containing my mother's journal and other things. I pick the box up and set down on my bed, carefully lifting the lid.

I set the journal aside, and I gently pull out the other items. I put each of the seashells in a neat pile after closely studying each one, and I delicately place the dried flowers next to them. After examining the carnival tickets, I discover that they were from a local fair of some sort in July of 1978. I can't yet figure out what the loop of rope is for or the story behind it. It appears to have been used as a bracelet or something. There is a stack of yellowing envelopes that are bound together with twine. They are addressed to my mother, and there is not a return address. From the sloppy handwriting, I can confidently assume that they are all from the mystery guy.

At last, I pick up the journal. I have been struggling with the idea of actually reading it ever since I found it because it feels like such an invasion of privacy. I'm sure my mother never thought anyone would read it, even though Nana believes that Mom would have happily told me every detail herself. How will I ever know about my mother's past and what happened with her first love if I don't read it? I'll always wonder what took place that caused them to part ways.

Finally, I gather all of the courage I have and yank the end of the satin ribbon, causing it to fall away from book and dangle limply from my fingers. I slowly open the hard cover of the book, and I'm somewhat afraid of what I will find inside of it. I expect to see page after page of written details and private commentary, but I find something much more profound. Stuck just behind the cover, I find a worn, faded photo. It is a picture of my mother with wet hair, a red halter bikini top, and denim cut-off shorts. She is sitting in the sand behind a campfire and is smiling at a handsome man sitting next to her. This must be himthe one she was in love with.

By the lighting in the picture, you can tell that it was taken close to sunset.  The boy is leaning toward my mom with his arm wrapped behind her back. He is wearing denim cut-off shorts and isn't wearing a shirt. His physique is tall and thin, but I can see that his stomach and chest muscles are defined and prominent. His shaggy, damp hair is golden brown and flips up at the ends. He wears a slight smile on his face and his gaze peers intensely into my mother's eyes. Her head rests on his shoulder while she looks up at him. They look deeply in love and completely happy.

She is wearing the locket in this picture. The flickering orange flames of the fire are reflecting off of the silver causing it to appear that it is glowing, and it looks striking against her tanned skin. I reach up to touch the locket around my neck, and to my horror, I don't feel it. I start feeling around frantically and looking to see if it had just fallen off. I hunt all over the floor in the bedroom, bathroom, and closet. I don't see it anywhere.

With my heart pounding, I sprint down the stairs into the garage, retracing my steps of the day. I search all over the ground outside, and I look all through my car. Not having any luck, I charge into Nana's house.

"Nana!" I yell hysterically.

She dashes out of the kitchen. "What's the matter, dear? Are you hurt?"

"I lost Mom's necklace! I haven't taken it off since you gave it to me. I have looked everywhere in my room, outside, and in my car, and I just can't find it. You haven't seen it have you?" I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I can't believe that I haven't had it for a full twenty-four hours, and it's already missing.