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I’d waited too long to fulfill my grandmother’s wish, and that regret will weigh heavily on my shoulders for the rest of my life.
Was I okay?
No, not at all, but my mother didn’t need to hear that.
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” I lied.
“When you come home tomorrow, we have a lot to discuss. There are some things you don’t know.”
Using my sleeve, I wiped the tears off my face, but more followed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Be safe, sweetheart. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered.
I hung up and covered my face with my hands. My legs were so weak I didn’t know if I could stand. All I knew was that my heart had been ripped out, and the pain was unbearable. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.
3
EVERLEIGH
Idrove the thirteen hours down to Oak Island in my little Honda CRV, desperately trying to ignore the tears still streaming down my face. My eyes were red and swollen from sorrow, and it felt as if I’d kept them open during a sandstorm. Blinking only made it worse.
The thought of food made me nauseous, but I forced myself to eat a pack of peanut butter crackers, or else I wouldn’t make it to North Carolina. With every mile closer I got to home, the more regret and guilt filled my gut. Grammy was so excited about the Caribbean trip we were supposed to take together; she’d even bought a skimpy red bikini to wear on the beach just to embarrass me. Little did she know I was looking forward to seeing her in it, to see her not have a care in the world.
All that excitement was gone, replaced by painful emptiness at the thought of what could have been. I had waited too long. If only I’d planned the trip years ago. Now my grandmother was gone, and nothing could bring her back. That regret would hang over my head for the rest of my life. It made me second-guess all my life choices. If I’d done things differently and stayed in Oak Island, I would’ve had more time with my family. Maybe I would be married to Jensen and have kids of my own instead of being a single thirty-four-year-old that worked over sixty hours a week. Having a family of my own was a happiness I feared I’d never feel.
When I reached my parents’ house, no car was in sight. It was what I’d secretly hoped for, but unfortunately, it also meant that no one was here. I pulled into the driveway and parked, hoping the time alone would help compose myself. My mother didn’t need to see how distraught I was. She was the strong one, the one who could handle anything. Or so I thought. I’ve performed critical brain surgeries without breaking a sweat. But the loss of my grandmother ripped straight through my heart. I didn’t even feel like myself anymore.
I got out of the car and looked up at my childhood home. It was a two-story yellow structure on stilts with teal shutters and an open deck on the front side that overlooked the beach. My parents had named it Sunshine and Cupcakes because its bright colors reminded my mom of, you guessed it . . . sunshine and cupcakes. Although I’d had many memories here, I had even more at my grandmother’s place.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as the emotions came flooding back in. No amount of time would ever heal the pain from Grammy’s passing away. I returned to my car, and reversed out of the driveway and onto Beach Drive. I tried calling my folks, but neither picked up their phones, so I assumed they were at my grandmother’s house. I wasn’t supposed to arrive for another three hours, so they didn’t know I was here yet. I wasn’t sure if I could handle stepping into Grammy’s house without breaking down, but I knew eventually I would have to face it.
Taking a deep breath, I inched down Beach Drive. With its white sand beaches, crystal clear waters and bright beach houses of every shape and size, Oak Island was where everyone wanted to be. I smiled as the sun shone brightly through my windshield, its rays twinkling off the ripples of the sea. Our street hadn’t changed much since I left for college, but a few more houses had been built.
Ahead of me, in the distance, was my grandmother’s house. It overlooked the point, but I couldn’t see much of it yet. Despite exuberant amounts of money being offered for it, she was always adamant about never selling her beloved home. Most of the homeowners on our street lived here all year long, so we never had too many run-ins with tourists. However, many small businesses in town relied on tourists to stay afloat. My father’s medical practice had always been busy during summer months with jellyfish burns or allergies from people finding out they’re allergic to seafood—interesting, yet predictable, cases that I used to help him with when I was younger. Even so, I couldn’t ignore my dreams of pushing further in my medical career—something my father wanted, too, even if leaving Oak Island was surely not part of his vision.
The closer I got to my grandmother’s house, the slower I drove. I wasn’t ready because I knew I’d feel the pain of my grandmother’s loss even more when I stepped foot in the house. She’d died there, alone in her room. There was no warning, no indication she was sick. Or was there and I just didn’t see it because I wasn’t around? What if I could’ve prevented it? I had just talked to my grandmother on the phone the night before and she was so happy. Never did I imagine she would be gone a few short hours after that.
I pulled over to the side of the road to catch my breath. Up ahead, I could see a tiny sliver of the house. It was steel blue with white trim and white shutters that always stayed pristine. My grandmother refused to let the white discolor. That home was her pride and joy. What my grandmother loved even more was the tin roof, especially when it rained. The sound always relaxed her.
Closing my eyes, I laid my head back against the seat. Being utterly exhausted had caught up to me. One minute, I was wide awake and the next . . .
A sudden, sharp knock jolted me awake. My heart raced in my chest as I scrambled to find the source of the sound. Through half-lidded eyes, I spotted Mrs. Georgia Hopkins, a good friend of my grandmother’s, standing outside with her beloved golden retriever, Martin. She held one hand on his head and the other clasped over her mouth in shock at what she had done. Her short white hair was disheveled, and lines creased her sun-worn skin.
At eighty-five years old, Mrs. Hopkins still looked every bit as sweet as she did all those years ago. The poor woman had gone through her fair share of family tragedies. Her only son had died of a heart attack at thirty-six, and her husband died about ten years ago from esophagus cancer. After all that, Georgia and my grandmother made sure to see each other daily. They were kindred spirits; that was what my grandmother always said.
My body was exhausted, but I tried my best to smile as I wound down my window. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hopkins. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
Mrs. Hopkins placed a hand over her heart. “Oh, honey, it’s my fault. And please call me Georgia. You’re Rachel’s granddaughter, for goodness’ sake. You’re practically my family.”
I could agree with that. After all, Ididfeel as if we were family. Georgia was my grandmother’s best friend.
“Okay,” I said, “Georgia it is. I just got so used to calling you Mrs. Hopkins over the years.”
Georgia laughed, but there was a sadness to it. “And it makes me feel old when people call me that. Your grandmother was the same way. The townspeople knew to call her Rachel, or they’d get the famous Rachel Holt glare.”
Hearing that made me snicker. “Ah yes, I know that glare very well.”
