Page 54 of Something About September

“No, I get it. I feel the same. And what you were saying, about feeling stuck. I get that, too. I’m feeling that same way, about my life in Toronto. And I have no idea what to do about it.”

“When are you happiest?” Sabrina asked.

Rebecca considered it. “The other day, at the thrift shop. When I was arranging the books, I lost track of time. I think I may have even started fantasizing that I was working at my own bookstore.” She smiled. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about that window display at the library, how it made me want to go inside, even though I wasn’t planning to. How book displays can do that. The idea, the draw of stories. It’s like I’ve realized that what I do—teaching stories—it’s not what I really want to do. I want to talk about stories and share stories, yes. But I don’t want to have to tell people how I feel about them, I want to just focus on the joy and the lightness of it. My life has started to feel too heavy.”

Sabrina nodded slowly, sipped more wine, while Rebecca stood and went behind the counter again, to find the drawings Pip had discovered the week before. She had saved them, not quite sure what to do with them, not ready to throw them away.

When she saw them, Sabrina’s eyes lit up. “Manderley Meringue! I was a genius! Becca, I love this.” She flipped through the pages, her mood growing lighter. Eventually, she looked up. “Wouldn’t it be so fun, to just…” She shook one of the pages. “Do this? Make this our life? I mean, I’m mostly kidding. I know we can’t make the drawings we did of a bookstore meets diner when we were kids a reality—but seeing this, it just feels so…so pure, you know?”

Rebecca nodded. “I do know. And honestly, these past few weeks have made me wonder what exactly might be possible for me. I don’t know what I want, but there’s a big part of me that just doesn’t feel ready to leave here.”

At this, Sabrina shrieked, “Really?!” while Rebecca laughed.

Rebecca looked around the diner. “It wasn’t just what was happening with Cort, because even with that over, I still feel it. I keep thinking about staying here. About turning this place into something, while it’s still mine. But…what if I’m just romanticizing small-town life?”

Now it was Sabrina’s turn to laugh. “I can tell you that it’s not romantic—except when it came to you and Cort, actually. And I’m sorry if that hurts, but it’s true.”

Rebecca thought about her longing, before she left Toronto, to have felt the sort of passion that burned but was worth it. She allowed herself a sad smile. “It’s okay.” Then she paused. “Do you ever think about leaving Bramley Hollow?”

“No,” Sabrina said. “Honestly, I don’t. I’m a homebody, I guess. I want to stay here, but I want things to be different. And I don’t really know what to do about that.”

“Maybe the first step, for both of us, is just saying it out loud,” Rebecca said.

Sabrina reached over and grabbed Rebecca’s wrist to give it a gentle squeeze. “You might be right. We don’t have to decide anything tonight. What can we decide, anyway? But we can talk.”

“It’s one of the things we do best.”

Rebecca smiled at her friend. And for a moment, she wanted to say more. But she decided to wait, not analyze or overthink.

“You’ll come on Saturday, won’t you?” Sabrina asked her. “To the dance? I saw how heavy things were, between you and Cort—but I still think you might have fun, and I want you there, with me. Please don’t let how hard things are with Cort keep you away.”

“I’ll be there, I promise,” Rebecca said, even though her heart felt like a lead weight at the idea of it.

“And I’ll be there beside you, like always. It’ll be okay.” Sabrina put down her wineglass and hesitated. “But, Becca? It felt heavy, like I said—but what it didn’t feel was finished.”

“Trust me, it is.”

“You should talk to him,” Sabrina said.

“What is there left to say? It doesn’t make sense, to try to talk about something we already decided on. Stepping away from each other.”

“Oh, why do you always have to be so smart? Will you ever give that heart of yours a chance to weigh in?”

Rebecca smiled but shook her head. “I already did. I let my heart lead the way, but I have to protect it now.”

Sabrina swirled the wine in her glass. “Okay,” she said. “I understand.” Then she looked up. “Just promise you won’t let your feelings for Cort chase you out of here again. I need you.”

Rebecca squeezed her friend’s hand. “I need you, too. And I promise. I’m not running away. Even if I do have a lot of my life to figure out.”

Chapter 34

Rebecca and Sabrina ordered dinner from Mooney’s, drank wine, and chatted until the stars were out and Sabrina was yawning. “I’m ahead of the game, but I still have a busy day tomorrow,” she said around nine. “I’m going to walk home and come get my car tomorrow.”

Rebecca walked her to the top of the orchard’s driveway, then headed back toward town—and found herself standing in front of the diner, unable to go in. The lights were on downstairs, but it was empty, not just of people but of the detritus she had grown so used to. Cort’s toolbox, the paint-spattered work boots he sometimes changed out of and left at the side door, his gray-and-red-plaid flannel jacket that would so often hang on a hook beside her denim jacket and extra sweater. She knew without going inside that the silence, the emptiness, would be unbearable. She peered through the window, and her eyes found the back corner booth, where they used to sit.

In the reflecting darkness, it was as if she could see them as they were, once. Cort, in his letter jacket, his hair still damp from an after-practice shower. Rebecca, her dark hair tied back in a French braid, trying not to watch him as he read—but unable to keep her eyes on the book in front of her. The way he would sense her watching, look up, and smile—somehow looking shy, even though she knew Cort Adams was anything but. See you at the dance? she could almost hear him say.

She turned away from the window, kept walking, away from the diner. Soon she was in front of the Tipsy Apple. She hesitated, looking through the pub’s glowing windows. Music, laughter, the clink of glasses. More memories, but it had been more than a year since she’d been in there with Cort.