I don’t need to look at my sister to know that she’s judging me with those big blue eyes of hers, staring at me indignantly as I remain hidden from view. Even though I feel like a coward with each second that passes by, it’s only when I don’t hear the roar of an engine’s throttle that I straighten up in my seat.
“What?” I grumble at my sister, no longer able to stand the weight of her reprimanding stare.
“You have got to be kidding right now,” she chides with her perfectly manicured eyebrows raised up high on her forehead.
“I have no idea what you mean,” I retort, feigning ignorance, pressing my lips into a fine line.
“Right, because hiding away from your problems is a perfectly healthy reaction. So happy to see you’ve grown into a well-balanced adult after all these years,” she reprimands as she opens her side door to furiously step out of the car.
I follow her lead and get out too, only to glare at her from across the roof of her car.
“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, Daisy. You’re the one who insisted I come back to this place, remember?” I bite back with a snark.
“This place is our home,” she scolds accusingly, slamming the car door with all her might. “And though you might not like it, Noah is family. You don’t hide from family, Sky.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I exclaim, slamming my door with equal force.
We continue to stare at each other, the fist around my heart tightening at the way my sister is looking at me like she doesn’t even know me anymore.
When I left Thatcher’s Bay all those years ago, I left more than a broken heart behind. I left my entire family, and my relationship with my sister ended up suffering for it. Sure, we’ve tried to talk on the phone and tried to facetime as much as possible, but even with today’s technology, there is something to be said about not being with a person in the flesh. Daisy’s strong influence on me began to fade with time, and I’m not sure if I’m better for it.
Not with how she’s looking at me now with such disappointment in her eyes.
I take a deep breath to calm my temper and walk over to her.
“I’m sorry. It was just a knee jerk reaction, that’s all,” I try to explain.
She offers me a clipped nod, but I can still see the hurt in her blue gaze.
“I said I’m sorry, Daisy. What more do you want from me?” I ask, throwing my arms in the air from pure exasperation.
I mean, I came when she asked. I put my entire life on hold to be by her side in the last place I ever wanted to return to. What more does she expect from me?
“I want you to be here. I mean really be here, Sky,” she explains disheartened, answering my unspoken question. “This is probably one of the most important events in my life, and I want to share it with my sister.”
“I know. That’s why I came,” I retort, still not understanding what more she wants me to do.
She shakes her head and slumps her shoulders in defeat.
“You don’t get it,” she rebukes, turning her back to me to walk up the driveway towards the house. But before she’s able to get far, I hurry after her, pulling her by the arm and turning her around to face me.
“What don’t I get?” I ask frustratedly.
“Do you love me?” she asks out of the blue, making my eyes widen at the unexpected question.
“Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one,” she exclaims, lacing her hands with mine. “I’ve missed you, Sky. So much. But if you’re unable to put the past behind you long enough to be here for me on my big day, then maybe…maybe you coming home was a mistake after all.”
My cheeks heat up as if she just slapped me across the face with her words.
“You don’t mean that,” I choke out.
“That’s just the thing, Sky. I do mean it. You haven’t been around for ages, and I feel that with each passing year that you’re away, the distance between us only grows. I was hoping that maybe with you helping me plan my wedding, we could somehow reconnect. Get back what we lost.” She sighs, tightening her grip on my fingers. “I miss you so much. I miss my sister. But I won’t let you ruin my wedding because of an old grudge that happened when we were kids. I won’t. It’s not only my big day but Derrick’s too, and I won’t let you spoil it for us because you can’t stand to be in the same place as our stepbrother.”
I can’t help but cringe at the word, and to my chagrin, Daisy has a first-row seat to my repulsion.
“You have a choice to make,” she adds steadfastly. “You can either woman up and get past your shit for the next couple of months, or I can drive you back to the dock and put you on the next ferry back to Falmouth. You decide.”
My jaw clenches at the new ultimatum she’s imposing on me.
“You’re choosing him over me?” I ask, him being the bane of my existence that I refuse to name outright.
I haven’t said his name in years, and I refuse to do so now.
“I’m choosing happiness over bitterness. I want you here. I really do. But if you can’t promise me that you’ll put your animosity and resentment aside long enough for my wedding to go off without a hitch, then you leave me no choice.”
Crap.
I haven’t even fully laid eyes on the asshole yet and already he’s ruining everything by inserting a wedge in between me and my sister.
But this isn’t about him.
This is about Daisy.
And her wedding.
A wedding that I would very much like to be a part of.
She’s right.
No matter how much I loathe the bastard, I will not be responsible for ruining my sister’s big day, by any means. It’s a milestone that I want to witness first-hand. Just one of many to come. If I bail on her now, then I can kiss goodbye to being a part of all the other amazing events that will occur in my sister’s life. I missed more than enough as it is. Because of my decision to run as far and as fast as I could from Thatcher’s Bay, I ended up losing my family, my dignity, and my pride; he managed to take that away from me.
I won’t let him steal this from me too.
With a newfound resolve, I give my sister’s hands a light squeeze and stare into her expectant, hopeful eyes.
“I’m sorry. I really am, Daisy. It won’t happen again. From here on out, I’ll be the best bridesmaid you could possibly hope for. I promise.”
“Bridesmaid?” She smiles softly. “No, you’ll be the best maid of honor this island has ever seen.”
My heavy heart soars in equal measure of relief and happiness as I pull my sister into a hug.
“I was starting to think you’d never ask,” I say with tears in my eyes, hugging her tightly.
“Like I’d ever ask anyone else. It’s you and me against the world, remember?” she says, hugging me just as fiercely.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I admit, letting a few stray tears flow through me.
“Me too,” she retorts, unable to keep her own tears at bay. “I really am happy you’re here, Sky. So happy.”
“Same,” I tell her and mean it, even if only because of her.
When we pull apart and begin to wipe our tears away, Daisy is back to her jubilant self.
“Watch out, Thatcher’s Bay! The Ames sisters are back, baby!” she shouts, making us both burst out in laughter.
“You two about ready to come in now?” I hear Curt’s voice coming from the porch.
Still laughing, we both turn towards the house and find our stepfather chuckling at the top of the stairs waiting for us. We start walking over to him, and the heavy pressure on my chest lightens further at the sincere smile that’s stretched on his lips.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” Curt utters cheerfully as I bridge the gap between us. And when he opens his arms, I fall into him and give him a huge hug. “So happy,” he mumbles into my hair, hugging me tightly.
“Me too,” I reply, feeling safe in his arms.
I always liked Curt, especially with how he doted on my mother, but it took me leaving to really appreciate him. When I left for Dartmouth so abruptly, my stepfather didn’t need to make an effort to build any type of bond between us. Since I was no longer living under his roof and was, for all intents and purposes, an adult now, there really was no need for him to go out of his way to have any type of relationship with me. But to my surprise, and regardless of the fact that I wasn’t his flesh and blood, Curt did his best to be a constant presence in my life. He texted me every day, wanting to know how school was going and if there was anything I needed. And when I graduated and got a job at Rosewood Publishing, he was the first to congratulate me for the accomplishment. He tried his best to fill in the role of a father figure even when I was supposed to already have one in my life. It’s true that my biological father stepped up when I needed him to, but he never really made the effort to know me. Not like Curt has done over these past few years.
One thing I really appreciated was the fact that he never talked about his son. His focus was solely on me and my wellbeing and how I was coping living so far from home. His concern for me was genuine and akin to what any protective father would have for his daughter. I’m not sure how I would have coped alone in college those first few years if I didn’t have his unwavering support.
“Can I get one of those too?” My mother interjects from behind him, pulling my attention towards her.
Reluctantly, I pull away from Curt’s embrace and step towards my mother.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi,” she replies with a smile, before wrapping her arms around me.
I nestle my chin into her shoulder as she embraces me, but I don’t feel the same love and tenderness that I felt in Curt’s arms. This hug feels forced and rigid.
Unlike Curt, my mom never forgave me for leaving.
It’s always been there between us.
The resentment.
The disappointment.
I guess if my child had decided to pick up all her stuff and leave home in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye, I’d be pretty pissed too. Especially since I left to live with her estranged ex-husband before going off to college. It’s been seven years now, and I can still feel the unspoken tension between us. She’s unable to relax or just be herself with me. It’s like she’s become this whole other person I no longer recognize. One that keeps me at arm’s length, fearing that if I get too close, I’ll see the truth of how deep her resentment for me truly is.
Or maybe it’s just me.
Maybe I’m the stranger here.
Maybe she senses that I’m no longer that wallflower that was content to hide in the corner, happy to keep her mouth shut just to make her life easier. But that girl died a long time ago, and I have a feeling my mother still mourns who I used to be, unhappy with the woman I’ve become.
Unsurprisingly, my mother is the first to pull away from the embrace and step back, seeking refuge beside her husband.
“I made lunch. You must be starving.” She grins, zigzagging her gaze between me and my sister, unable to meet my eyes for more than a few seconds.
“I could eat,” Daisy singsongs, upbeat.
“Good. Good. Come in. Both of you,” she urges, opening the front door and ushering us in.
But as I step into the house, all the memories I’ve tried so hard to keep locked away in the confinements of my soul surface to the forefront of my mind, like a tidal wave intent on drowning me whole.
Nothing’s changed.
Everything looks exactly the same, and a pain so severe hits me like a ton of bricks, making my knees almost buckle. The familiar smell of salt and sea breeze invades my senses, making my stomach churn as I take everything in. The same flowery curtains hang on the windows. The same old couch and lounge chair remain at the center of the living room, facing a television set that is as outdated as the décor around it.
Memories of how I used to lay on that couch and write all my thoughts and dreams about a blue-eyed boy whose smile lit up my world forms a knot in my chest. The girl who lived here had been so cavalier with her heart, completely oblivious to the danger it was in. Wide-eyed and lovestruck, she willingly stepped into the flame, uncaring if it would turn her heart to ash. All because his touch set a fire inside her, that no one has ever been able to match since.
Being in this room is so overwhelming that I have to outstretch my arm to grab hold of the wall, just so I don’t stumble and fall.
“Home sweet home,” Curt says proudly, squeezing my mother’s shoulders affectionately.
The lump in my throat prevents me from saying anything as I slowly follow everyone into the kitchen, finding that it too remains just as I left it.
“I made your favorite. Fried chicken and macaroni and cheese,” my mom announces proudly.
“Actually, I’m a vegan now,” I explain while sitting down, thankful that I didn’t faint from all the memories bombarding me all at once from just being inside this house.
“Since when?” My mother’s brows pull together.
“Since her freshman year in college,” Daisy says, placing a comforting hand over my mother’s on the table. “Sky did that whole exposé about how the meat industry is responsible for a big part of ruining the environment for the Dartmouth newspaper. Remember, Mom?”
Doubtful.
We’ve hardly talked about any of my accomplishments back at school. Aside from the weekly obligatory phone call to see if I was still alive, there really hasn’t been much we’ve discussed over the years, so I’m not even surprised with the meal she’s prepared for me.
“Oh, right.” My mother nods sullenly. “It must have skipped my mind.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just have the salad,” I tell her, not really eager to get into a fight with my mother on my first day back.
My mother sinks into her chair, while doing her best to keep a brave face.
Sensing the tension in the room, both Daisy and Curt begin to talk about her wedding plans, including me and my mother into the conversation as best as they can. But it all feels strained and awkward, and I hate that I’m the cause for such uneasiness.
But then again, I could be having lunch back at the bed and breakfast in town if my mother hadn’t so rudely canceled my reservation there. I really should call her out on it, but then I remember that I promised Daisy that I’d be the best maid of honor she could ever hope for. Causing a fight with our mother would defeat that purpose.
“Do you want to come into town with me after lunch? Mom and I are going to look at some table linens and napkins for the wedding,” Daisy asks between bites of her macaroni and cheese.
“Would you mind if I go with you another time? I’m still tired from the flight and think maybe I should lay down for a few hours and take a nap.”
If I’m to fulfill my promise to my sister, then it would be prudent to limit my time with my mother while in Daisy’s company. I know that sooner or later I’ll have to have a serious conversation with her, but I would rather do that when Daisy isn’t around. Maybe I’ll only broach the subject after Daisy has gone off on her honeymoon. That way, there is no risk in me pissing my sister off any more than I already have.
“Sure. No problem,” Daisy replies with a genuine smile. “How about I pick you up tomorrow a little before noon so we can have lunch at The Scarlet Letter Café for old times’ sake?”
“What do you mean pick me up?” I ask, confused. “Don’t you live here, too?”
“Actually, your sister has been living over at Derrick’s since he popped the question,” my mother explains, sounding not too happy with my sister’s new living arrangement.
“I’ll come back the week before the wedding. I just want to enjoy this honeymoon stage we’re in,” Daisy explains with a whimsical tone.
“Silly me. And here I thought the honeymoon stage was only supposed to happen after a wedding took place.” My mother pouts.
“Since when have you become so old-fashioned?” I can’t help but interject, astounded by my mother’s displeasure that Daisy is living with her fiancé, of all people. It’s not like Daisy hasn’t spent most of her nights with Derrick anyway.
In my mind, they should have been living together ages ago. I never understood why Daisy preferred to live in this house and not with the man she loved. Then again, Daisy has always marched to the beat of her own drum, doing things her way and refusing to succumb to society’s expectations.
“I know it’s been a while since you’ve been home, but Thatcher’s Bay is a small island and people talk. I just don’t want anyone to think that your sister is marrying Derrick for his money, or worse, that this is a shotgun wedding.”
Though it takes immense effort on my part to ignore the jab my mother just took at me, it’s her hypocrisy that I’m unable to stomach. Especially since everyone on this island believes that she and Curt had an affair long before his first wife passed away and she’s never done anything to deny it. I may not be one for gossip, but that tidbit is much more scandalous than my sister shacking up with her boyfriend of over ten years could ever be.
“Like I give a rat’s ass what people think.” Daisy laughs. “People will believe whatever they want to in the end. It’s not my job to enlighten them. I’m going to live my life how I want to live it. If the island wants to gossip about it, it’s their prerogative. Not mine.”
My heart warms at how my sister is still as fearless as she’s always been. Many things may have changed since we’ve been apart, but knowing that Daisy is still Daisy eases whatever trepidations I might have at being here.
“Will I see you tonight though?” I ask, excited at the prospect of reconnecting with my beloved sister.
“I’m having dinner with Derrick’s parents tonight, but I can pop in afterwards if you want?”
Suddenly, the idea of being all alone in this house without her feels like the worst decision I could possibly make. It’s my sister’s hopeful smile that keeps me from saying as much and conceding to the idea of living here for the summer. I can always book a room in town if it gets too much for me.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll probably just work tonight anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I force a smile. “Thank you for lunch, but if it’s quite alright, I think I’ll go and lay down now,” I add, excusing myself from the table.
“Of course. Your room is ready for you. Just go on up,” my mother says while quickly picking up my plate from the table and putting it in the sink, still unable to make direct eye contact with me.
I throw Daisy and Curt another smile as I turn my back and walk out of the kitchen to head upstairs. But the minute I grab hold onto the handrail and start walking up the flight of stairs, old ghosts of the past trickle into my subconscious again.
I see a younger version of me hiding at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping on conversations that I had no business listening to and what happened afterwards. I try to shake the memories away, but it’s a difficult feat to accomplish, especially when I reach the long hallway on the second floor. Each step that brings me closer to my bedroom feels like I’m being pulled back into that painful past, the walls behind the closed door having borne witness to the whole fucked up ordeal.
‘There. It’s done. Now what, you lunatic?’
‘Aw, baby. Giving me pet names already? I think you can come up with better than that.’
‘How about psycho? I think it fits you perfectly.’
‘If I’m a psycho then that officially makes you my little stalker.’
I swallow dryly, doing my best to ignore the memory but when I finally reach my room, it’s that same recollection that propels me not to walk in yet. Instead, I find myself turning my back to my own bedroom and staring at the closed door in front of it. All of me shakes as I grab the doorknob and swing the door open, only to find his room bare, completely empty of everything he once held dear.
I’m not sure why finding the room empty feels like another reason for me to hate him, but it does.
It’s that blinding hatred that has me hurriedly stumbling back from the bedroom door’s threshold. With gritted teeth, I slide down the opposing wall, unable to pull my sight away from the empty room, now void of every memory that once transpired there.
It’s all gone. Every last moment vanished into thin air.
But then again, nothing real ever happened inside of those four walls.
It was all just a game to him. A game created by his boredom and callousness, with the sole intent of making a fool out of me, making sure I’d never recover from such cruelty.
I’m still seething at how I could have been so reckless and naïve with my own heart, when I hear a soft thud coming from the end of the hallway.
“Déjà vu,” my sister utters, wide-eyed and pale, with my suitcase at her side.
In my haste to come upstairs and get some much-needed distance from my mother, I totally forgot about my luggage and how I left it in Daisy’s car trunk. But it’s not the sight of my sister pulling the suitcase towards me that grabs my attention—it’s her soft spoken ‘déjà vu’ remark that unsettles me.
“What did you mean by that?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing.” Daisy shrugs off. “I guess seeing you here in this hallway caught me by surprise. Must have brought up old memories. That’s all,” she lies with a sheepish smile.
“You’re lying. You know I can tell.” I frown. “What did you really mean by that? Tell me,” I insist.
When she finally reaches me, she slides down the wall and sits cross-legged beside me.
“Are you sure you really want to know?” she asks with concern, squeezing my knee.
I nod, fearing the worst.
“When you left, I would catch Noah sitting right there in that exact spot in the middle of the night,” she points to the wall opposite me, “just staring into your bedroom. It was like he wanted to go in but was too afraid to do so.” She sighs sadly. “Every night when I came home from being either at Derrick’s or from a night shift at work, here he’d be, just staring into the abyss. After a year or so of doing that, it probably got to be too much for him, and that’s when he began to clear the loft of Curt’s fishing supplies above the garage so he could move in there instead.”
I hug my knees to my chest, unsure of how I should feel about what my sister just confided to me.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” I hear myself asking.
“Would it have made things easier for you to know that he was hurting too?”
I shake my head. It would have probably only fucked with my head even more. But unlike Daisy, I don’t believe for one moment that Noah was hurting in any way. He was probably just pissed that his favorite plaything wasn’t around for him to torture anymore.
“He screwed up,” Daisy says after a long pause. “And though he might have felt guilt over it, I understand why you can’t forgive him for hurting you the way he did.”
“You forgave him,” I say, ashamed of my accusing tone.
“Not for hurting you. I never forgave him for that,” she affirms, wrapping her arm over my shoulder, to which I lean in and lay my head on hers. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand him. Sometimes people sabotage their own happiness because they believe themselves unworthy of it. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”
I crane my head back just enough to look at her face and see the truth in her eyes.
Daisy has always been very private about her relationships, especially with Derrick. But you’d have to have been blind not to know they have had their ups and downs over the years, the downs most probably provoked by my sister’s stubbornness and hot temper. I am happy that she’s managed to get out of her own way and finally accept that she too deserves to be happy. I know that Derrick will do everything in his power to make it so.
“I owe you an apology, Sky,” she adds with a shy smile. “I shouldn’t have demanded that you get over all the pain you went through in this house just for my sake. Even though that shit went down when we were kids, it doesn’t mean your feelings are any less valid. I guess I was just hoping that if you came home, it would be cathartic for you. Maybe finally get some closure and move on with your life.”
“You mean move on with my life with Gael?”
“You don’t need a guy to move on with your life and be happy,” she explains assuredly. “Sometimes the best person you should be focusing your love on is yourself. Give yourself some grace, sis. The rest of the pieces will fall into place.”
“That’s easier said than done,” I mumble, my eyes going straight to the source of all my pain—his empty room cruelly mimicking how empty I feel inside.
“We have all summer,” Daisy retorts hopefully. “You’re here now. Consider it the first step of your rehabilitation journey.”
“You’re making me sound like an addict or something.” I can’t help but chuckle.
“We all have our vices.” She shrugs. “Holding onto hate feels like a pretty big one.”
I take in her words and truly let them sink in.
Maybe Daisy is right.
Maybe me being back at Thatcher’s Bay is a good thing. Cathartic even, just like Daisy said.
Maybe this is what I need to put old ghosts to rest.
But if coming here is my first step, then I know what the second one needs to be.
I’ll have to confront my sickness head on.
Daisy was right in comparing me to an addict.
I can already feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins with just the idea of getting another hit.
Another hit of his ruthless hate.
And how I’ll savor it.
