Saving Forever (The Ever Trilogy: Book 3) (10 page)

BOOK: Saving Forever (The Ever Trilogy: Book 3)
10.81Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

I knew that would happen someday. I’d turned off my cell phone when I left. It was still active, still connected in case I needed it, but I had it turned off. There was no one I wanted to talk to. I’d been gone for just less than a week. Five days, in fact. Cade would probably suspect something by now. I’d never missed a day with Ever. Not in the entire eighteen months of her coma. And now I’d just…disappeared?
 

It was cruel of me. To him, but to Ever most of all. Just vanishing, with no explanation? But I didn’t know how else to handle it. Anything else would lead to the truth, and I just couldn’t,
wouldn’t,
lay that on Cade. But especially not on Ever. Not now.
 

And so I was here. Alone. On a beach.

I’d spent my first few days here cleaning the cottage. Tom—Mr. Callahan, the caretaker—had pulled the sheets off the furniture and turned on the water and utilities, but that was it. The whole place was coated in a layer of dust. There were decade-old canned goods in some of the cabinets. I emptied everything, dusted, vacuumed, scrubbed sinks and toilets and mirrors and counters. Mopped floors and cleaned windows. I bought a few cheap pieces of art in downtown Traverse City, just to make it homey. I replaced the twenty-year-old couch with something newer. Bought new bed sheets, towels, new dishes, cooking utensils, silverware. I stocked the cabinets with healthy food. No junk—except for a few treats, as a reward for eating healthier than usual—and no caffeine. That was hard. No soda, no coffee. Good thing I was alone, because right now I was a raging bitch without caffeine in the morning. No alcohol. That was the worst. Nothing to take the edge off. Nothing to help me forget. Just my own unrelenting thoughts…all the time.

I spent a lot time running. There was no gym here, not something close at least, so I ran. I started with two miles first thing in the morning. Finished it with pushups and crunches. I couldn’t afford to let my weight go. Not now. I noticed I was hungrier, except midmorning, when the nausea would hit. I usually puked a few times around ten or eleven, and I’d eat some saltines—a tip learned from the Internet. The feeling would pass, and I’d be fine the rest of the day.
 

I also played Apollo. Ceaselessly. There was little else to do, now that I wasn’t in school anymore. I worked on my solo. I played through the entirety of Bach’s suites within the first three days. And then I started again. I hadn’t dared bring Apollo to the beach yet, but I would. Someday. It was Mom’s beach. Mom’s cello. I had to play there, for her. For her memory.
 

I hadn’t thought of Mom in a long time. I’d purposefully put her out of my mind—it was my way of healing. I’d bleached my hair to look like hers six months after she’d died, and I’d kept it that color ever since, out of habit. Out of memory. Besides, I liked not looking identical to Ever. She was already more beautiful than I was, skinnier, glossy black hair, slimmer hips, svelte waist, delicate shoulders. Over the years I’d become obsessed with keeping my weight down. I’d grown to need the gym. Need the rush of a killer workout. It wasn’t about Mom, not anymore.
 

And now, here, at her family’s cottage, I found myself thinking of her for the first time in years. Missing her. Needing her. Wondering what she’d say if she knew the mess I’d gotten myself into. Scold me? Yell? Scream? Refuse to talk to me? I didn’t have any idea how she would have been as a parent to me in my later years. She’d been fairly even-tempered until the day she died. I got my temper from her, while Ever was more like Dad, inward-focused, quiet, slow to anger. Mom would get irritated with me and Ever. We’d get into trouble, and we’d play the twin-confusion card. She’d get fed up, and she’d yell. We always knew we’d pushed the game far enough when Mom got really mad. We knew we’d crossed the line when she stopped yelling and got scary-quiet. Now that I was an adult, would she sit me down and lecture me about my current situation? Or be a support? She would be disappointed. I knew that much.

After letting the sun roast me for a while, I retied my top, slid off my shorts, got up, and moved toward the water. I walked in, toes, ankles, knees, then up to my thighs. The water was thigh-deep for several more feet, and then I hit the rope marking the boundary of the swim area and ducked under. Now the water was up to my waist, and then my boobs went buoyant. Finally, I ducked under, swimming underwater in the cold depths.
 

Down, down, following the bottom until the pressure hurt my ears and the cold was too sharp. I let myself float upward, and I broke the surface. I saw in the distance a platform, bobbing gently in the little waves. The dock. It was still there. As a little girl, I remembered thinking it was so far out. Swimming out there had seemed so grown-up, so daring and adventurous. Now I realized it was maybe twenty feet from the roped-off section, if that far. The water was well over my head, though, and I felt an absurd moment of panic as I did a sloppy crawl stroke toward it. I’d swum in pools, of course, but I hadn’t been in a lake in…years. Not since the last time I was here with Mom—well over ten years ago. How long? I calculated the time, distracting myself as I swam. She’d died when I was thirteen, almost fourteen. It had been…two years before her death that we’d come up here. I was twenty-two now. So, yeah, just about ten years.
 

By the time I’d figured that out I was at the dock, rounding it to find the ladder. I held on to the metal bar, kicking my feet in the dark water. Swimming in the open like this wasn’t the same as in a pool. If you faltered in a pool, you could kick over to the edge and climb out. In a lake, there was no edge. If you swam out too far, there was no escape, no easy edge to save you. It wasn’t actual fear of that happening that I felt; rather, it was more the potential, the knowledge of the possibility. I kicked and pulled myself up onto the dock, lay on my back, staring up at the sky. The morning air chilled my wet body, but the sun soon warmed me.
 

I had a memory of being here, on this dock, with Mom. Ever had been on the beach, tanning. She didn’t like swimming as much as I did. So Mom swam out with me, held the ladder, and waited till I climbed up. Following behind me, she sat beside me on the rocking platform. The beach seemed so far away, miles distant. I was out of breath from the swim, elated, excited, a little scared. I was going to jump off. I’d been out here with Mom the day before, but I’d chickened out of jumping off.
 

Mom and I had lain, side by side, on the gently bobbing dock, watching the clouds shift overhead. We stayed until we were hot, and then Mom had climbed to her feet, slicked her hair back, and tugged on the elastic leg band of her swimsuit. I remember thinking,
She’s so beautiful
, wishing and hoping I’d grow up to be as beautiful as she was, with her long blonde hair and green eyes and high cheekbones and easy, lovely smile. She’d glanced at me, smiling, winked, and then dove in, slicing perfectly. I’d stood, scared stiff, and watched the deep blue water shift and curl, imagining things lurking in the depths, imagining diving too deep and not being able to make it to the surface in time. Mom just treaded water and waited for me. I shuffled to the edge of the platform, peering over the edge.

“Stop thinking and
jump
, Edie!” Mom had laughed. “You’re freaking yourself out. I’m right here, honey.”

I was eleven. Way,
way
too old to be scared of jumping off some stupid dock. I’d closed my eyes and jumped. Feet first, arms flailing. I was immediately swallowed by darkness and achingly cold water. I’d fought the panic and kicked to the surface, felt the air on my face and sucked in a deep breath, spluttering, laughing. Mom had laughed with me, given me a high-five, and then we climbed back up and jumped off together, sending the dock rocking. Again and again we jumped off, laughing and making a game of who could jump farther.
 

Finally, drawn by our laughter, Ever had swum out to join us. She’d acted brave as she climbed up and peered off the edge, the way I’d done, but I’d seen the fear. I remember admiring her
so much
for how she just jumped off, no hesitation, despite her fear. That day, watching Ever do with seeming ease what I’d been scared of, I determined to never let fear get the best of me. I’d always been the first after that. The first to try something, no matter how scared I was. It may have turned into a slight case of impulsiveness, taking risks simply for the sake of not letting fear get the better of me.

Now I lay on the same dock, and I was gripped by fear. Every moment, I was scared. Terrified. I could barely breathe, I was so scared. I was scared of life. Of living. Of what would happen to me. I wasn’t a teenager, sure. But I was
way
too young and unprepared to be a mother. A
mother
. Mommy. Me. Eden Irene Eliot, a single mother. I didn’t know what I wanted for myself, much less what I wanted for a child. I didn’t know how to be a parent.
 

And…I’d never even been in love.
 

I stood up, clenching my fists and forcing air into my lungs. Pushed away the rampant terror. I bent my legs and dove in, the way Mom and I had, so long ago.
 

By the time I reached the shore I was barely holding it together. I threw on my cover-up, toed my feet into my flip-flops, gathered my things, and hurried home. It
was
home, too. It felt like home. What if…what if it was the only home I ever knew? What if I had the baby here and raised him or her alone, here on the peninsula? What if I just never went back? Could I do that? Cut myself out of Ever’s life? She was all that mattered, really. And Cade, of course, but he was a can of worms I couldn’t deal with. Not yet. I had to push him out of my thoughts, out of my heart.
 

I sat on my couch, wet from the swim and sweating from running home, hyperventilating in an attempt to keep the wrenching sobs at bay. I couldn’t lose it. Wouldn’t. This was life now. Alone, in this cottage.
 

I hadn’t loved Cade. Almost, though. I’d
almost
fallen in love with him. I’d seen it happening, felt my heart curling outward and trying to latch onto him. But he didn’t love me, and never could and never would. Even if Ever hadn’t woken up, everything we could’ve established would have been based on all the wrong foundations. I had refused to let that happen. I wanted better for myself.

His trip to Wyoming had come at the most perfect moment. That last tangle in the sheets had nearly been my undoing. But then he’d left and I pushed him away, knowing it would be the end. It
had
to be the end. We couldn’t keep doing it to each other. It wasn’t helping him, and it was only confusing me.
 

I’d teetered on the edge of a cliff, and then had stumbled back at the last moment. Tearing myself away, pushing him away. It had been wrenchingly painful. But far better than spending the rest of my life loving him and never being able to have him.
 

And then…and then I’d found out I was pregnant, and everything changed. Now I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I had no one. I’d cut Dad out of my life, although being the stubborn asshole he was, he’d continued to pay for my tuition and room and board. I didn’t know why, and never would. He wouldn’t visit us, wouldn’t call us, wouldn’t make any efforts to repair the damaged relationships, but he paid for school, and sent us a monthly allowance. I’d saved most of mine over the past few years. I had enough money put aside to live on a shoestring for maybe a year. I’d been saving it to buy a place when I graduated, only now that would never happen.
 

When Ever went into the coma, Dad had paid the hospital bills until she’d entered the Home, at which point she’d become a ward of the state. I think he had kick-ass insurance that had covered a huge portion of her bills, but it still must have cost him a staggering amount of money. I also think he paid Cade’s hospital bills. I don’t know if Cade even realized that.
 

But he wasn’t a support system. I wouldn’t ask him for money. I wouldn’t call him. I wouldn’t let him know what was going on.
 

I couldn’t tell Ever or Cade, either. Mom was long dead, as were her parents and Dad’s. So there was just me.
 

And I was paralyzed with fear. I had no plan, a limited amount of money, no job, no degree. No friends, no family.
 

I felt the tears begin again, and I lurched off the couch. I pulled Apollo from his case and sat down in the chair in the middle of the living room. I played, and played, and played. Until I broke through the calluses on my fingers and bled, until my wrist ached from holding the bow, until my teeth hurt from grinding them together. I didn’t even know what I was playing, just that it was all that mattered, all I had to keep the fear at bay, to keep the brokenness from overwhelming me.

As I finally let the bow drop to the floor, a thought came to me: Each day, facing my fear and simply moving through the day, was akin to jumping off the dock as a little girl. Just waking up was facing my fear. Taking each breath was an act of will. Not breaking down in tears each moment was an effort. All I could do, every single day, was face my fear, jump off the dock, and hope I could swim to shore.

running from the truth
 

I was lying on the beach late one evening, a few hours before sunset. To the west, out over the water, the sun was an orange ball hanging above the horizon. I was glistening with a layer of sweat, ready to take a quick swim before heading home.
 

I heard the rumble of his car first. Heard the slam of the door in the distance, followed by a few minutes of silence. Then I heard his footsteps, kicking up the sand. I pretended to ignore him, keeping my eyes closed behind my sunglasses, my hands folded low over my belly, feet crossed at the ankles. I was glad I’d worn my one-piece swimsuit—I was starting to show, just a little.
 

I thought perhaps he hadn’t seen me. His footsteps were passing right next to me. I felt a spray of warm sand hit my leg, and then a sharp intake of breath. I opened my eyes, and found it hard to think. He was standing above me, outlined by the sun. He was so close I could smell him. Sawdust and sweat. I tipped up my sunglasses to see him better. Sweat dripped from his nose and ran down his temple, coating his long, toned arms. He was shirtless, wearing a scuba diving bag on his shoulders. His washboard abs glistened, and the swim shorts he wore were tied low enough that I could see the top of his V-cut. I resisted the urge to lick my lips. Holy shit, he was gorgeous. And the smell of sawdust? Intoxicating. I could see it dappling his skin, sticking to the sweat on his chest and forearms. I wondered what he did to get so covered in sawdust. I wanted to watch him work. I had a vision of him bent over a worktable, scraping at a piece of wood with long, slow strokes, his back muscles rippling and his arms tensing and relaxing with each movement.
 

BOOK: Saving Forever (The Ever Trilogy: Book 3)
10.81Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Love Is a Breeze by Purcell, Sarah
The Crossing by Howard Fast
Emily's Ghost by Stockenberg, Antoinette
The Reckoning by Rennie Airth
The Loom by Sandra van Arend
The Children’s Home by Charles Lambert
The Tesla Legacy by Rebecca Cantrell
Four of a Kind by Valerie Frankel