Things Left Unsaid, page 19
Lyndie couldn’t see much through the partially opened door, but from what she could tell, the trailer’s interior resembled the porch. Piles and piles of garbage bags and boxes filled the room just beyond where her friend stood. Empty bottles littered the floor, and shabby curtains hung closed over the windows.
The image of Mama J. coming home with “an extra shirt I found on sale” skittered through Lyndie’s mind. Cassie’s mom must’ve seen what the girls couldn’t—that Elle didn’t have anyone taking care of her.
“Well, we’ll be at my house,” Cassie said. “You’re more than welcome. My mom bought extra marshmallows just for you.”
Elle smiled. The summer before, she’d rejected the graham crackers and chocolate in favor of toasted marshmallows, and they’d teased her about how many she’d eaten. In that moment, Lyndie realized she probably didn’t get treats very often.
“Thanks, guys,” Elle said. “It’s really good to see you. I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
Lyndie now made eye contact with Elle from across the table, wondering what had ever happened to her mom. She certainly wasn’t at this ritzy welcome party.
“I grew up here,” Elle said in answer to Sarabeth’s question.
“That must’ve been amazing,” Sarabeth said. “And you all were so lucky to leave real life for a whole summer.”
“I don’t think any of us realized it,” Travis said. “We were just kids.”
The small talk continued throughout dinner, and by the time dessert was served, Lyndie’d had enough of memory lane. How much longer did she have to stay?
Travis rose and moved to where his parents had stood, then waited, as they had, for the silence of the crowd. Once he had everyone’s attention, he smiled warmly. He’d gotten more handsome over the years, and Lyndie wondered if Cassie would’ve been over him by now—or if she’d be the one standing next to him on his wedding day.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming,” Travis said. “It means the world to Elle and me to have you here, in Sweethaven, where we first fell in love. It seems like only yesterday I stole my first kiss behind the present table at her graduation party.”
Travis went on, but Lyndie’s heart stopped.
She stared at Elle, who wore an unmistakable look of panic.
“To Elle,” Travis said, raising his glass.
“To Elle,” the crowd repeated, raising their glasses in the direction of the bride.
Tucker set his glass down and glanced at Lyndie. “You okay?”
“I need some air.”
She threw her napkin on the table and stood, still glaring at Elle, who didn’t meet her eyes. Lyndie rushed from the tent and onto the back patio of the Preston cottage.
“Lyndie, wait.”
She spun around at the sound of Elle’s voice. “Our graduation party?”
“I can explain.”
“You and Travis hooked up at our graduation party,” Lyndie said, letting the idea of Elle’s betrayal sink in. “You told me it happened after Cassie died.”
“I can explain,” Elle repeated.
“You told me it was weeks later, and that was bad enough, but you did this to her while she was still alive?”
The question hung in the air as Tucker and Travis appeared at the tent’s entrance.
Lyndie faced them. “Did you know how much she loved you?” she said to Travis.
He looked away.
“If she had known about this, it would’ve broken her heart.”
“It wasn’t like that, Lyndie,” Elle said. “It was a silly kiss and it never amounted to anything until later.”
“How could you do this to her, Elle?” Lyndie’s voice cracked, despite her whisper. Suddenly all of those feelings were right at the surface, bubbling over and spilling out onto everyone else.
Why am I falling apart?
She wiped a tear from her cheek, waited too long for a response that didn’t come, then finally turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty
Tucker drove up and down the quiet streets of Sweethaven, searching for Lyndie for an hour. He checked the beach, the gazebo, even Dewey’s boat docked in the marina, but there was no sign of her anywhere.
Around midnight, he finally went back home, struck by the quiet of the cottage at night. The moonlight streamed in from the windows, illuminating the sleeping porch, where he found Lyndie fast asleep on one of the beds. She was still wearing her sundress and sandals, as though she’d just collapsed there and couldn’t be bothered with appropriate sleepwear.
He pushed open the screen door and walked onto the porch, watching her for a moment and wondering what kind of havoc this trip was wreaking on her. Lyndie had a chip on her shoulder, but that didn’t mean she was as resilient as she wanted everyone to believe. She seemed to be unraveling, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was all his fault.
She’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, and in her rest, she looked peaceful. As if all her cares had fallen away.
Tucker knelt beside the bed and gently removed her sandals, holding each foot delicately so as not to wake her. Then, he picked up a thin afghan from the end of another bed and spread it across her sleeping body.
She didn’t even stir.
He reached over and brushed a stray hair from her cheek, tucking it gently behind her ear. “I’m so sorry, Lyndie.” The words escaped, barely a whisper, and as they did, the door to the porch creaked.
Tucker spun around and found his dad standing there, face shadowed in the moonlight.
“Everything okay?” his dad whispered.
Tucker stood. “She had a rough night.” He moved into the kitchen, wanting to disappear. He didn’t want his dad to see the regret on his face, but somehow, it seemed too late for that.
“Would you like some tea?” His dad flipped on the light over the sink and filled the kettle.
“Tea?” Since when did his dad drink tea?
“It’s decaf. I drink it when I can’t sleep.”
“Which is . . . often?”
His dad set the kettle on the stove and turned the knob until the burner clicked on and the flame appeared. “More often than I’d like.” He watched Tucker. “What happened with Lyndie?”
Tucker exhaled a deep breath at the myriad of answers to that question. “I think she’s just having a hard time being back here, is all.”
“I meant what happened with you two ten years ago?”
Tucker’s eyes shot to his father’s as his nerves carved a hollow spot in his chest. “What do you mean?”
“Fathers are sometimes in the dark where their kids are concerned, but somehow I think I went on hyperalert when it came to you.”
“And you think something was wrong between me and Lyndie?” How did he know? And more importantly—how much did he know?
“If I had to guess—yes.”
Tucker considered coming clean right there. His dad was no dummy—and he knew Tucker was no saint. But how could Tucker ever admit what he’d stolen from Lyndie, a girl who’d been like a daughter to Davis?
“Nothing happened,” Tucker said.
His dad eyed him. “I think she cares about you. And I think you care about her too.”
Tucker looked away.
“Have you told her?”
Tucker shook his head. “I think you’re confused, Dad. There’s nothing to tell. You and Mom need to stop playing matchmaker and maybe spend a little more time communicating with each other.”
His dad stilled. Had Tucker gone too far? Was it off-limits to bring up the tension in the air between his parents? Could he call them out on all the things they weren’t saying, or would that make him a hypocrite?
The water in the teakettle boiled, threatening to blow its whistle. “We just want what’s best for you, son.”
“I have a good life now, Dad.”
“I know you do. And we’re very proud.”
The words didn’t ring true.
“There was a time we thought we’d lost you too.” His dad pulled the kettle from the flame and turned the stove off. “Just feels like there’s something that’s got a hold on you, like you need to get something off your chest. Maybe making things right with Lyndie would be a good start.”
The whispers that had filled his head only moments ago danced in his mind. “I’m fine, Dad. Just tired.”
His father nodded and poured the hot water over a tea bag inside a ceramic mug.
“I’m going to bed.” Tucker started for the door.
“Kayaking in the morning?”
Tucker turned. “You were serious about that?”
“Of course.” His dad smiled. “Gotta spend as much time with you as I can before you head back to that good life of yours.”
Tucker nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll see you first thing.”
His dad held up his mug as if to offer a toast. “See you then.”
Lyndie awoke Monday morning to the sound of voices filtering through the window over her head.
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t know, Ma. Why don’t you ask her?”
“I don’t want to be nosy.”
“Obviously you do.”
“She seems fragile to me. Like she’s putting on a brave face, but something inside her is crumbling.”
“You know she’s a grown woman, right?”
“It has to be hard, being here. Especially without Cassie. Was she upset last night? Is that why she slept on the porch?”
Lyndie opened her eyes, realizing she was, in fact, on the sleeping porch, still wearing last night’s clothes. Someone had removed her sandals and covered her—probably Mama J.—but she’d slept soundly from the moment she’d closed her eyes until now. She sensed it was early and that Tucker and his mom were trying to be quiet, but they weren’t doing a very good job of it.
“I think she had a rough night, Ma,” Tucker said. “And I’m sure you’re right, it’s not easy being back here—for lots of reasons.”
“What does that mean?”
Before Tucker could answer, Lyndie opened the screen door, probably looking like a complete disaster.
“Lyndie,” Mama J. said, turning toward her. “You’re awake.”
“You two probably woke her,” Davis said. “The window is open.”
“Oh, goodness, you’re right,” Karen said. “I’m so sorry about that. Do you want some coffee? Breakfast? The boys are going kayaking, so I’m making bacon and eggs. Gotta get their energy up.”
“Some coffee would be good,” Lyndie said.
“No eggs?”
“I don’t eat in the morning.”
“It’s the most important meal of the day,” Davis said, winking at her from over the top of his newspaper.
“Don’t mock, Davis. It is the most important meal.” Karen shot him a look, then returned to the stove. “Tucker, pour Lyndie a cup of coffee.”
Lyndie wanted to protest, but Tucker was already finding a mug in the cupboard. He pulled one down, poured a cup, added creamer and a little bit of sweetener, then set it in front of her on the island at the center of the kitchen.
“Thanks,” she said.
Gosh, she’d treated him badly. She’d treated Elle badly. And had she really yelled at Travis? This trip was beginning to feel like one exercise in humiliation after another. What had happened was in the past. She needed to leave it there.
Tucker sat down on the stool next to her, and Lyndie’s mind floated back many years. The morning after almost every sleepover at the Jacobs’ house ended with a big breakfast standing around this very island.
Travis, Tucker and oftentimes Dewey would push the girls out of the way to stuff themselves with the many options Mama J. put in front of them. They’d had no idea Karen always saved plenty for the girls—she would reveal it only after the boys had left the kitchen. And while the room felt much too quiet now, that same joy was still in Karen’s eyes as she provided for her people.
She handed out plates, then set trays of bacon, eggs and pancakes at the center of the island. “Dig in.”
Tucker and his dad followed her orders, but Lyndie sipped her coffee, marveling at how she could feel so out of sorts and yet so at home at the same time. If only the comfort of being here could win out over the regret.
Elle breezed into the room, freshly showered, hair done and makeup neatly applied, looking like a carbon copy of Nora Preston.
“Good morning, Elle,” Karen said, pulling out another plate. “Come, join us.”
Elle glanced at Lyndie, who quickly looked away. “Maybe just coffee.”
“You girls,” Mama J. said. “I wish you’d eat something.”
“I have my final fitting this morning,” Elle said, taking the steaming mug Cassie’s mom offered. “Are you coming, Lyndie?”
Tucker’s eyes dashed to Lyndie as she set her mug down on the counter. “Of course.”
“Good,” Elle said, smiling. Probably relieved Lyndie hadn’t tattled on her for being a terrible friend.
“I should go get ready,” Lyndie said. “Thanks for the coffee.” She took her mug and hurried up the stairs, waiting until she was safe behind the door of Cassie’s room before letting out a deep breath.
Seconds later, there was a knock on the door. She opened it and found herself standing face-to-face with Tucker. She said nothing.
“I just wanted to check on you,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb. “I looked for you last night, but I couldn’t find you.” His jaw twitched as he waited for her to reply.
She didn’t know what to say. Finally—and only because he wasn’t going away—she said, “I’m fine.”
He pressed his lips together, and Lyndie wished he wasn’t so good-looking. “You don’t seem like it.”
She studied the floor. She didn’t need his concern, not when these feelings were following her around like they had a right to.
“Do you think we could call a truce?” he asked.
Her eyes shot back to his. “A truce?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Yeah.”
I don’t trust myself enough to be nice to you.
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Sure, Tucker.”
“Really?”
She stuck her hand out. “Truce.”
He stared at her for too many seconds, then took her hand and shook it. “So, we’re friends, then?”
She nodded. It was all they’d ever be.
“So, will you tell me how you’re really doing?”
Her eyes filled with tears she could not let herself cry. She couldn’t stand it if he was nice to her. How could she continue to hate him? It was hard enough after hearing his speech yesterday in the churchyard.
Had Tucker really changed?
And if he had, what did that mean? Nothing, really. Good for him. She hoped he had a great life in California.
But that wasn’t honest either, was it? Thinking that Tucker had changed meant thinking about the way he used to be—about what he’d done to her. It meant thinking about that night, the accident, feeling like she’d let her best friend down.
“Lyndie.” Her name, whispered on his lips, tugged at the knot inside her. She wanted to forgive him—wanted to forgive herself—but how?
He reached up and touched her cheek, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb.
“Don’t be nice to me, Tucker,” she said.
“Lyndie, I—”
“Tucker?” His father’s voice called up the stairs.
“Go,” she said. “I’m fine.”
He just stared at her again for a long, heavy beat, then pulled his hand from her face. She gently closed the door, sinking into a heap on the floor and allowing gentle sobs to overtake her body.
If Cassie were there, she would’ve come to her side, wrapped an arm around her and let her cry. She would’ve insisted that crying was therapeutic, as much as Lyndie hated it, and she would’ve told Lyndie to feel all those feelings.
“It’s good for you,” she would’ve said.
“I hate it,” Lyndie would’ve replied. “I don’t even like crying at sad movies.”
“I know, Lyndie Lou, but when you feel something, you’ve gotta feel it all the way—otherwise it’ll just eat you up inside.”
Feeling any of this “all the way” was not an option. Lyndie needed to pull herself together, shove it all back in its box where it belonged and power her way through the next week.
If she didn’t, all these feelings would destroy her.
Chapter Twenty-One
“You really going to try and tell me there’s nothing going on there?” Tucker’s dad tossed a look back toward the house as they walked to Tucker’s SUV.
“Give it a rest, old man.”
“I daresay I can still keep up with you, even if you are a big adventure-seeker these days.”
They drove down to the lake, the same spot where Tucker and Travis had gone kayaking yesterday. The waves were tame, the water manageable. Perfect for a beginner like his dad. Unloading their kayaks and gear, they started off into the water.
Davis paddled straight into the surf and kept on going. As much as Tucker hated to admit it, he had to rush to catch up.
Okay, so, not a beginner.
“You were holding out on me,” Tucker said, coming up alongside him.
His dad grinned. “You’re not the only one who loves the great outdoors.”
Usually the best part about being out there was that it didn’t lend itself to conversation, and right now, that was just fine with Tucker. But his dad seemed intent on talking despite the physical exertion.
“Sounds like things are going well for you out there,” he said. “You know, your business and everything.”
Tucker nodded. “Yeah. Things are good.”
“I’m glad, son.”
“Are you?” His sideways glance landed on his father as Tucker added a bit of extra strength to his paddling.
“Course I am,” he replied. “We wish we saw you a little more, but we’re happy you’re doing well.”
Tucker stared ahead, trying to drink in the open air, the way the sunlight danced on the water. He should let it go and take his father at his word. He didn’t need to go picking a fight, not today. Never mind that he’d always thought his dad blamed him for the accident. Never mind that he assumed both his parents thought it should’ve been him out there and not Cassie. Never mind that he believed those things too.
