Do you really want to go there now, Gray?”
“That’s not how I meant it. I meant that she probably couldn’t bear the thought of being hospitalized or anyone having to take care of her. Nana hated to burden anyone. She was too independent.”
“Yeah. Maybe I got that from her.”
Gray threw his palms up. This wasn’t worth it.
“Forget I said anything. I’m expected over at the clinic, so again, my condolences. If I don’t see you before you leave town, then—just drive safely and have a good life.”
He turned on his heel and headed for his motorcycle as the first drops of rain hit the ground. He wasn’t expected at work today unless there was an emergency, but as far as he was concerned, getting out of Mandi’s hair qualified as one. He didn’t care if he got drenched. He needed to get out of here. He put his helmet on and rode off without looking back, but he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling that this was the last time he’d ever see her.
* * *
EIGHT HOURS SINCE Mandi had been dropped off at the cottage and she was still in a fetal position on Nana’s bed. She glanced at the time on her phone, squinting with one eye to lessen the screen’s glare, and slapped it back down on the bed. Three in the morning? She covered her eyes with her hand. Her legs didn’t want to move any more than the rest of her did. Yesterday evening, without so much as a bite of dinner, she had wrapped herself in Nana’s favorite crocheted purple shawl and curled up on her bed, dozing on and off for mere minutes at a time. At some point, she must have really fallen asleep, lulled by the faint, lingering scent of Nana’s woodsy perfume on her pillow.
She stared up at the moon shadows that stretched across the ceiling. Her grandmother’s energy still seemed to fill the room. It was both comforting and unsettling. Was Nana passing away so suddenly all Mandi’s fault? Had she brought on everything bad that had happened in her life, like losing her mother, grandma and even Gray? No regrets. That advice didn’t make sense at a time like this. She did regret not seeing her grandmother at least one last time. She regretted not being there for Nana the way Nana had always been there for her. She regretted...
Gray’s face flashed in her mind. No, she didn’t regret leaving him. She had done the right thing not marrying him. Even Nana had consoled her through the ordeal, emphasizing that a person had to find themselves and master the art of self-love and self-respect before they could ever stand tall enough to lift others off the ground. Mandi had assumed that those who needed lifting referred to people—or even animals—around her in general or maybe future children and family...but not Gray. Nana couldn’t have meant him, specifically. Gray didn’t need anyone holding him up. He exuded confidence with every step he took and had his life exactly where he wanted it to be, from his thriving practice to his work saving endangered turtle hatchlings on the beach. Grayson Zale knew exactly who he was. He simply could not bring himself to share every part of him with Mandi, and that wasn’t good enough for her. Or maybe she hadn’t been good enough for him. Whatever it was, she deserved more than to settle for a life with someone who didn’t trust or love her enough to be completely open with her. Neither of them would have been happy.
She rolled off the edge of the bed, flicked on the side lamp, gave her puffy eyes a moment to adjust, then began folding the shawl. The open, floral-patterned stitching on the bottom left corner snagged on the nightstand’s knob, pulling the loose drawer slightly askew. She freed the shawl and set it carefully where it had been, near the end of the bed, then turned to straighten the drawer.
Open it.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks and sucked in the corner of her lip. Going through all of her grandma’s drawers and belongings was inevitable. She would have to face it sooner or later, but the fact that she was actually curious about what Nana kept in her nightstand felt wrong. She had never been a snoop. She had always respected people’s privacy because she wanted the same for herself. That was probably why she’d never made enough headway with getting Gray to share more about his past with her. She wasn’t aggressive enough. Her father was aggressive and she made a point of trying not to be like him. She fingered the knobs.
“I’m sorry, Nana, but I get the feeling you’d want me to make sure there aren’t things tucked away you don’t want my dad seeing.”
Nightstands were very personal spaces. What if her unabashedly wild-at-heart grandmother kept secret love letters or sexy romance novels hidden in there? Did she want to know? Did she dare look inside? She opened the drawer, supporting the side with the broken runner with her left hand. A five-by-eight notebook with a recycled paper cover adorned with pressed flowers lay next to a few pens, a very old camera, a rather large multi-tool camping knife, a colorfully woven, empty change purse that looked like it had been made somewhere in South America and the remains of a small ball of yarn with a crochet needle stuck through it. Leave it to Nana to have such an eclectic collection of items.
Mandi picked up the journal and did a quick flip of the pages. They were yellowing around the edges and one had what looked like coffee stains. “Journal #2” was written inside the cover, but there wasn’t another notebook in the drawer. Apparently, Nana had another tucked away somewhere. What was odd was that this one was mostly empty. There were only a few entries, the first of which was dated a couple of decades ago, around the time when Mandi’s mother left town. She held Nana’s difficult-to-read cursive scribbles up to the light.
I haven’t written in many, many years. Not since returning to Turtleback. But I thought it was time to try again. I haven’t been able to write since I lost the two most important people in my life. The only trusted, loved, closest friends I’ve ever had and ever will. That pain still lingers in my chest and haunts me in the early morning hours when I walk the beach. They would have loved this beach. They would have understood my need to protect the turtle nests...to save lives. Lives hidden secretly beneath the sand, waiting for the chance to break free and truly live. But some secrets can never surface. They would have understood that, too.
After they died, writing about my days didn’t seem as important as returning home, picking up the pieces, building a new life and figuring out how I was going to raise my unborn child. I had survived the worst in life and knew I’d survive this, but I didn’t know I’d fail at it. I failed my only child. I spoiled John when I thought I was giving him everything I didn’t have. He has never learned the true value of life...and love. Audra left them last night. She left John and her sweet little girl without warning. I sensed it would happen sooner or later. It makes me so sad to know that Mandi won’t have her mother around. I love that little girl with all my heart. I’ll be there for her. I’ll do my best and hope that this time, I won’t fail at parenthood. My hope for her is that she will someday experience love as deeply as I have and that it never leaves her behind.
Mandi wiped her face on her sleeve, but the tears kept falling. All she’d ever been told was that her grandfather had died at war. Nana had never expressed or shown in any way just how heartbroken she was, nor had she mentioned this other friend in her life. What secrets was she talking about that could never surface? Did everyone have secrets they were keeping from her? Like Gray?
Mandi grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. Her grandmother didn’t say anything specific about why Audra had left. All she’d ever told Mandi was that it wasn’t because of her. And her father had declared the subject off-limits more than once, during her teen years.
She turned to the next page and double-checked the date. This entry was only written about two years ago. That was strange. It seemed that her grandmother’s attempt to start journaling again hadn’t worked out. Why? There weren’t any entries made during the years since Mandi’s mother, Audra, had abandoned them. The only other entry was on the day Mandi had almost become a bride. It was a little shorter and the handwriting slightly messier, no doubt a reflection of Nana’s age and arthritis.
I failed again. Mandi did find the kind of love I had wished for her, but I had asked for it to never leave her. Love didn’t leave Mandi. I know this because I saw the pain she left in her wake. She was the one to abandon love. Maybe her father