All the things I wouldn’t get to experience, thanks to my ailing grandfather.
“Of course, Mom. I’ll always be here for you.” I smiled and patted her hand.
She must’ve taken it as a signal to leave my room, because a few seconds later, she was slipping off my mattress and closing the door behind her.
Once again, I stared at the empty notebook that I’d intended to use as a journal. The only scribblings at all were the numbers I’d jotted down so I wouldn’t lose them. The numbers Drew had given me right before I left—in case I wanted to reach him.
It took me about ten minutes, but I finally grabbed my phone and began tapping out his phone number.
Chapter Twenty
July 5th, 1975
Dear Diary,
My heart is broken. Even though I knew this could happen, it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I just don’t know why he did this to me. And I don’t think I’ll ever get an answer, because I don’t know when I’ll ever see him again. IF I’ll ever see him again. I should be starting my new life with AC right now. But it seems I don’t have a choice in the matter. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this heartbroken.
Emily sat on the steps of the church and watched as the fireworks exploded in the night sky above. She’d been looking forward to this moment for months, counting down the days to when she would finally take control of her own destiny.
However, something was wrong.
Andy was supposed to meet her here, in the exact spot they met one year ago today. Same time, same place. That was their plan. They would leave together before the celebration even began, ensuring they would have an adequate head start. Except Andy hadn’t shown up. Instead, she was left on the stone steps all alone.
Déjà vu began to set in.
Except this time, it brought about pain and heartache rather than fear and loneliness.
She decided to wait until the end of the fireworks show; maybe she’d misunderstood the plan and gotten the time wrong. There was no point in giving up now and possibly losing any chance of being with him. So she held onto the duffle bag in her lap and kept her attention set to the road that ran along the side of the church. This way, she could see when he arrived.
She never did see Andy, but she did see Bobby. Twice. The second time stranger than the first, and she’d thought the first was incredibly weird. It was almost halfway into the last Chogan fireworks show when she caught Bobby walking along the street.
He walked alone with his head down, attention set on the pavement below his feet. He appeared to be in a hurry, almost frantic. And while Emily couldn’t see him too well, she thought he might’ve even been talking to himself as he tugged on his hair. That was what caused her skin to prickle the most—his hair. He’d always worn it perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, which was the complete opposite of what it looked like now.
Replaying that in her mind had kept her busy until right before the finale, which had been rumored to be impressive and extra long to mark it being the literal finale. While she still wondered where Andy was and what might’ve happened to keep him late, at least she was no longer obsessing about it. She now had something else to occupy her mind. Even more so when she caught Bobby walking the other way, back toward Main Street.
However, this time, he wasn’t alone.
His grandfather walked next him with his hand on Bobby’s shoulder. From where she sat, she thought it looked tense, as if his grandfather was directing him—pushing him—instead of simply walking next to him. Still, like the last time, Bobby had his head down, although his feet moved more frantically this time.
Part of her wanted to find out what that was all about, but the bigger part of her wanted to stay and wait for her life to begin. She knew deep within her soul that Andy wouldn’t stand her up, especially not after talking to him the day before. He’d shown just as much excitement, if not more, than she had. Yet after waiting this long, her confidence began to wane.
Finally, at the end of the finale, Emily got up and headed home. Eyes flooded with tears, no energy in her movements, and a sadness in her heart that she’d never felt before. But before she completely gave up, she decided there was still one more chance to run off with Andy, and that was in the morning before everyone left town.
Except…he didn’t show up then either.
Chapter Twenty-One
Drew
I set the worn diary on the desk in the front office, startling my dad. I hadn’t meant to, but somehow, he hadn’t heard the heavy door open—or close—or seen me come around the reception desk. Whatever he was reading seemed to hold his complete attention.
“What’s that?” I pointed to the stack of papers in front of him.
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
I narrowed my gaze, calling his bluff. He tried to tell white lies, but his eyes always gave him away. The lines along his brow creased with the strain of untruth, and the corners of his mouth turned downward with suffering. The last thing this man needed was additional stress. I’d barely made it through his last heart attack; I couldn’t do that again. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he corrected, as if that was a better explanation.
Crossing my arms, I gave him time to mull over his explanation. When he continued to remain silent, anxiety etched into every wrinkle on his face, I dropped my arms to my sides and casually leaned against the desk. I’d learned long ago that he was more open to sharing business matters when I seemed relaxed. My dad was like a scared animal sometimes—soft, small steps kept him from retreating.
“Really, Dad…what’s going on? You look tense.”
He opened the file, took one glance at whatever sat inside, and then quickly closed it again. It was a dark-blue folder with James Fitzgerald, Attorney at Law embossed in gold lettering along the front. The fact that it was from a lawyer was enough to cause worry, but I remained calm—on the outside; on the inside, my heart pounded relentlessly against my chest, trying to break my bravado.
“It really isn’t anything you need to concern yourself with.”
I stood up straighter. It seemed that relaxed wouldn’t cut it this time. “Does it have to do with Black Bird?” When he nodded, I asked, “Then why doesn’t it concern me? Aren’t we in this together? Shouldn’t I know what’s going on with the resort?”
A small smile shadowed the corners of his mouth. “You’re just like your grandmother sometimes. You just can’t help yourself, can you? Always have to know what’s going on.” He leaned back in his seat and ran his hands over his aging face, through his greying hair, and interlocked his fingers behind his head. “Okay, fine. Apparently, the landowner wants to change the terms of our lease, and if we don’t agree to it, they’re going to sell. Which means, the new owners might decide to do something else with the property or ask for even more money than what’s on the table now.”
I stared at him while he stared at the folder on the desk, neither of us saying a word. The news hung heavily in the air, making the room warm and muggy. There had to be a mistake, a simple misunderstanding. This couldn’t be right. I didn’t know much about that side of the business, but before my grandmother died, she’d told me the story of how she started Black Bird too many times to count. It was definitely bragworthy.