Celia and Juliet held one another’s gaze, trying to make sense of the other until a family of eight burst through the door of the Eco-Lodge, eager to check in. Celia and Juliet broke apart, their meanings unsaid, their hearts still aching with previous hurts.
Juliet found herself itching to get out of Bluebell Cove again—if only to prove to her daughter that she was still herself. If only to prove to her sisters that she wasn’t weak.
But she knew she had nowhere else to go. And this was devastating beyond measure. It nearly brought her to her knees.
11
It was hard to believe it was the Fourth of July. More than three weeks had passed since Juliet and Danica had packed up that crappy car, left Manhattan, and driven to Bluebell Cove. It had been three weeks of strained silences, working the front desk at the Eco-Lodge, and trying and failing to reconnect with Danica, Ivy, and Celia.
Juliet felt she was going insane. Sometimes she ached to hear the city, if only to forget about her own strangled thoughts.
Throughout this time, of course, maybe to prove to herself that she wasn’t done yet, Juliet had continued to apply for jobs back in Manhattan. She’d even begun to sketch fashion ideas, things that she hoped would prove to potential employers that she still belonged in their world. But on the job front, all she heard were crickets.
And when she reached out to people who’d once said, “Call me if you need anything! Any time!” their secretaries told her that they were out of the office and would call her back soon.
Needless to say, they never called back.
Against her better judgment, Juliet had continued to duck in and out of Danica’s blog. She’d read a few of them almost all the way through and had been surprised—and pleased—at how good a writer Danica was. She had a real talent for poetry, especially for sentence syncopation. But Juliet wasn’t surprised that the blog content wasn’t entirely nice. Danica wrote about how backward Bluebell Cove was. She made fun of small-town living. She wrote little fantasies of returning to Manhattan, getting her own apartment, and falling in love with a wealthy prince, or a wealthy heir to some fortune, or a wealthy someone or another. Money was always a major player in these stories.
And in some of Danica’s stories, her father returned to take her away from the United States and moved her to Singapore. Underneath those passages, Danica wrote a brief: FYI, my mom won’t let me move to Singapore with my dad in real life. So, this story is a little close to home. He says he’s going to make it work for us soon, though. I can’t wait to get over there and start living again! Imagine the stories I could write!
On the one hand, Juliet was pleased that Danica was pursuing her love of writing, trying to understand herself and her passion, and doing so in the safety of Ivy’s home, the door locked behind her. On the other hand, Juliet wished that Danica would leave the house a little more, that she’d connect with her cousins, join one of the Bluebell Cove kids’ book clubs, or go for a hike. She was dreadfully pale, despite the sunny days on the coast.
But each time Juliet invited her to the beach, Danica said no.
Now, sitting at the front desk after checking in numerous Fourth of July guests, Juliet dared herself to read Danica’s most recent blog post. Danica had fixated on Juliet again, describing her mother as a “loser” who was living in the past. Juliet’s eyes filled with tears, but against her better judgment, she kept reading.
The thing about Magnum X is that he gets having a mother who’s lost her mind. I think that’s why we bonded so quickly. It’s so cool to have a friend like him, someone who understands my soul or whatever. It’s crazy that we don’t even know each other’s real names, but it’s like I’ve never been understood this well, not even by my best friend from home.
Juliet’s heart shifted in her chest. Magnum X? Who was Magnum X? Danica had never mentioned him, although it was clear from context that he was nothing more than an internet friend. Praying that he wasn’t dangerous, Juliet used the app to see Danica’s screen and read her messages. But it seemed that Danica and Magnum X weren’t communicating via any of the channels Juliet knew about—not texting, not WhatsApp, not any DM on social media. Juliet decided that this meant that Magnum X was little more than a character in the blogosphere.
Maybe he wasn’t dangerous. Maybe Juliet could put him out of her mind.
“Hey there,” a voice rang out from overhead.
Juliet nearly yelped with surprise, then drew up to find a handsome man in his mid-forties, a backpack over his shoulders, and his shaggy blond-brown hair over his ears. He smiled down at her, pleased. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. “I didn’t know how to get your attention.”
Juliet’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I’m terribly sorry. I was, um, reading something?” Juliet got to her feet, abandoning her phone. “You’re here to check in?”
He was. He introduced himself as Hank Bartholomew, who was on a road trip across the lower forty-eight. “I heard hiking around here is to die for,” he said.
“It is,” Juliet said, surprised to feel her heart pounding harder in her chest. “But you must have seen a lot of amazing hiking during your travels?”
“I started down in Alabama,” he said. “I decided to go north first, see what I could see up here, before heading West.”
“West, like the great travelers before you,” Juliet teased. “The next Jack Kerouac.”
Hank laughed and removed his backpack. “Am I really so obvious?” He removed a book from the back pocket of his jeans and flapped it on the front desk. It was Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. “I’d never read it before,” he explained. “But I figured now was the time.”
Juliet was grinning wider than she had in ages. There was a sort of magic beaming off this man. His bravery in leaving Alabama and trying to swallow the world was infectious. She yearned to know what he’d seen so far and what he wanted to find out there. She yearned to know what heartache he was running from—or toward.
A strange part of her thought, What if he stayed here with me?
And then she laughed off the thought and handed over his key.
But Hank was still looking at her as though he wasn’t done with the conversation. “Today’s the Fourth of July.”
“According to most major calendars, yes,” Juliet said.
