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“I recognize you. You’re Juni’s beau.”
I’ve never thought of myself that way before but hearing him say it, it feels good to wear that title. “I am,” I say, not sure if I have a right to the moniker anymore.
“Mrs. Hendricks said you were getting married soon.”
News to me. I chuckle, but there’s an ache in my chest that overcomes it. “No, we don’t have plans.”
“Why do young people wait so long to start their lives these days?”
I set Rascal down, holding on to the leash’s handle. Mr. Clark doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to take it from me. “I’ve been focused on my career.”
“Pfft. I did that once. It got me shot down over open waters. Fortunately, a Navy ship picked me up. We lost the fighter plane, but they saved my life.”
“Sounds like you were fortunate to survive.”
He walks away. I’m not sure what he’s doing, if he has dementia, or if I should follow him. Sitting on a bench farther down the block, I look down the street to see if my car is coming and then wheel my suitcase and walk Rascal down to join him. As soon as I sit down, he says, “I was surviving only to return to my darling, Anne.”
“Was that your wife?”
“No, she was the girl I’d left back home. Though she tried to get me to marry her before I was sent off. I was a dumb son-of-a-bitch for not jumping at the chance. I wanted to become a war hero, make her proud first, to honor my parents.” He shakes his head with what I imagine is the same annoyance he felt then.
“What happened when you returned home?”
“I went to get the girl. I marched straight into that church and was given the sign I needed.”
“What was it?”
“The minister asked if anyone had any objections. I marched down that aisle and said, I do. I objected to living the rest of my life without the prettiest girl in that church.”
Holy shit. Mr. Clark was a wild man. Watching Rascal chase a bug on the ground, I note the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “She was getting married?”
He laughs, seeming to relive the memory in his head. “No, but her cousin was. I didn’t care. She didn’t either. We got married right then and there. Her family disowned me for ruining the wedding.” He waves it off. “They eventually came around in time to meet our first son.” He looks me right in the eyes, and adds, “The point is, stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling, or waiting for the perfect moment, and stop beating around the bush. If you love her, tell her. If you want to marry her, ask her. I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her.”
There are so many wise words tucked inside that advice.
The car pulls to the curb, and I stand. Handing the leash over to him, I bend down and pet Rascal one more time. I take the suitcase, and say, “That’s a good story.”
“It’s not about collecting stories. It’s about making memories worth sharing one day.”
“Wise words.” I start for the car but stop to say, “Thanks for sharing.”
“Take care, Drew.”
I stop to look back. Juni’s the only one who calls me that, making me realize she’s been talking to him about us. Maybe that story was told to me specifically, or maybe he’s just good at reading people.
Either way, it makes me glad she’s not completely alone. She not only has her makeshift family, but they’re one hundred percent supportive of her. For a while, I felt like I was part of that family. A part of the group who wants to see Juni happy. Thriving. Finding her dreams.
I want to be the one who gets to come home to her.
As the plane takes off for Seattle, I lean my seat back and ponder Mr. Clark’s words. “The point is, stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling, or waiting for the perfect moment, and stop beating around the bush.” Isn’t that what Juni said to me about moving in together? Not to beat around the bush? “I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her.” But Juni has dreams and plans, as do I.
Seattle isn’t forever. Fixing this problem with Beacon isn’t forever. It’s another hurdle, another work-related but salvageable problem. But that’s not what Juni is. Perhaps she’s my story. No, I want her to be my story. How do I make that happen, though?
How do I make sure I have stories worth telling?
34
Juni
His office has been empty for the past week.
I successfully avoided it until this morning when I had to put a letter on his desk. The sad little ivy on the corner of his console caught my eye, and even though I was ready to hightail it out of there, I returned to check on it. When I rubbed a leaf between my fingers, my heart ached. Not for the plant, though that did as well until I touched the dirt and found it still had some moisture. No, it was this office, the belongings, the smell. The man. I closed my eyes, and his scent, like his aura, filled the room.
