Page 53 of Keeping it Local

A couple days ago, I’d mentioned some of the lighthouses up the lakeshore of Lake Huron, and I was shocked that she’d never visited any of them. About half a dozen lined the coast within driving distance, and since we both had light Mondays, I offered to give her a tour.

Once we got onto the main road, we rolled the windows down, and Beth put her feet on the dash.

“So, I talked with Mary about the donation,” Beth said, looking out the window but still bouncing her knee to the music.

“She all in?” I asked.

“Not exactly.”

“What? I was sure she would agree this year.”

“She’s actually selling at the end of the season.” Beth paused, looking toward me, and I tried to keep my eyes on the road, even though they briefly shot over to her. “And she offered for me to buy it. If I wanted, that is.”

My stomach dropped, and my chest went tight. This could really be something if she bought the place. But before I could chime in, she cut off my thoughts.

“Of course, that’s not happening though. I told her that.”

I barely heard her. All I felt was an imaginary punch in the gut, something I shouldn’t be feeling at all but still did.

“There’s another company that has an offer in anyway, but hey, it feels good that she asked.”

“Yeah. Definitely.” I needed to snap out of it. Why was I feeling so bummed out? This was exactly why getting involved with Beth in the first place was a bad idea and why I’d asked Lane to keep me in check. Getting close to someone just meant the possibility of getting hurt, and I couldn’t stomach that again. This would be no different.

“After talking with Professor Mackey, I’ll probably still mention it to my parents, but I can’t imagine it changing anything.”

“What do you mean? It could work… if you wanted it to work,” I said, tentatively.

“I know, but I’ve worked my butt off back home to take over in a couple years. That’s why I’m here. I can’t just go back on that, you know?” She tilted her head, looking at me like I was a sad puppy.

Trying to keep my cool, I said, “Why don’t you bring it up to your parents and see what they say?”

She nodded, turning back to the coastline. “I will, but I don’t think it’ll matter. I know what they’ll say.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I should feel flattered that she offered it, but that we have something good back home.”

“Do you really think that? That it wouldn’t matter?” My blood pressure was rising for her.

“My parents are very traditional. I can’t imagine they’d like the idea of their only daughter moving away, buying a new business, and leaving them high and dry. Besides, I want to start the events side of the business. I’ve mapped it all out. I’m excited about it.” She furrowed her brow. “And my dad doesn’t do well with change—especially after everything. I need to think about how to even bring up the subject without upsetting him. He gets weird sometimes.”

I nodded, not sure what else to say. Clearly, she’d already made up her mind, and I didn’t want to be another person adding pressure, expecting something from her that she wasn’t prepared to give. She already had enough of that with her parents—even if that wasn’t their intention. I knew she felt guilty being here as much as she loved it. I didn’t want to be another obstacle to get in her way.

She seemed unfazed by my conflicted temperament, and I wanted it to stay that way. I wanted to enjoy the time we had left, even if it meant swallowing the words that were on the tip of my tongue.

I suggested going to the furthest lighthouse away, and, for the most part, we were both quiet the rest of the drive. Instead of talking, she enjoyed the view of Lake Huron out her window. About five minutes from our stop, she looked over at me.

“What’s your deal today?” she asked.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re quiet.” She nudged my arm with her hand. “You’re not normally this quiet. You frustrated about not getting the donation? You’re acting weird.”

Shit. I was trying to act as normal as possible with her, not wanting to ruin the day. “Yeah, that’s it.” I couldn’t let her know how I really felt—not when she wasn’t on the same page. I slowed down before pulling into the makeshift parking lot next to the small beach.

“We’ll get a few others. I’ll just make sure to wear my winning smile when we ask.” She smirked at me before jumping out of the car, letting Oberon down, then slamming the door behind her.

The old lighthouse was on a rocky point next to the beach, and since it was Monday, it was closed, but we could still look at the few signs that were around it, showing the history of the shipping industry in Michigan.