Chapters 25-28 Beautiful Mine

CHAPTER 25

Connor

I told Whitney all about it and she was pretty happy, both because I made things official and because Rayce and I seem to have turned a corner. I’m happy too. But something is wrong. I can’t figure out what.

Worrying is definitely the cause of my insomnia this time. I slept for something like two hours, then woke up in the middle of the night and haven’t been able to get back to sleep.

Why do I still feel so off? I’ve made my decision, and I do think I want to stay. But something is wrong. Something deep inside me feels all riled up. In a panic almost.

It’s bad enough that I get dressed and go for a walk, unable to be still. There’s normally something soothing about being out in the world when it’s this dark and quiet. But my mind won’t be still. It’s all over the place.

Way back when I told my family I wanted to leave the business and go travel the world, it was Mom who was the first to endorse my decision. I was on my old sailboat, stocking the pantry and still feeling raw from the emotional conversation we’d all had at my parents’ house about it. She found me there, helped me pack in my supplies, and talked at first about other stuff. Normal stuff.

When we were done, and I was feeling calmer, that’s when she decided to talk for real. We were sitting on the deck, looking out at the sea. My boat was ready to go, but still moored to the dock.

“You have a lot of your dad in you.”

I shrugged. While my siblings weren’t exactly keen on the idea of me leaving, they weren’t mad about it like he was. They didn’t tell me I was making a big mistake, like he did.

“He’ll come around,” Mom said reassuringly. “I think your dad just forgets what it’s like.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was pretty restless when he was younger, too.”

“But he didn’t do anything like this.”

“No. He didn’t. But nearly every weekend was about him getting his adrenaline fix. I think once he has a chance to recover from the bomb you just dropped on all of us, the adventurer in him is going to win out and he’ll respect you for what you’re doing.” I was too upset at the time to believe her, but she’d been right. He eventually accepted my decision and later did, in fact, tell me he respected me for it.  

“As for me,” Mom continued, “I think this is what you need to do for now.”

“For now?” I said, still feeling defensive. “Like getting it out of my system?”

“I don’t know. You’ve always been your own person, son. I don’t know if this is something you’ll ever get out of your system. It’s always been in you, even when you were little. But… then again… at some point in your life, you may decide you want more.”

More? More what? What could be better than seeing the world and meeting all the people in it? What could be better than chasing that horizon and turning the next corner? As reassuring as my mom was trying to be, her comment only reinforced my notion that no one in my family really understood how I felt about this. “I can’t image anything more.”

“Which is why you need to go.”

Now, walking the streets of Swan Pointe in the black hour before pre-dawn, letting my feet take me wherever they want to go, a brisk wind pushing me on, I think back on that conversation with my mom. The fog I’ve been feeling for months gradually starts to clear. Things are coming into focus.

I’m able to back up and see the last several years from a distance: my frustrating time in college, breaking away from my family and the life they wanted for me, finally putting my wandering self in the driver’s seat, my failed attempt to change for Evie, and my perpetual itch that I could never quite seem to scratch. Even upgrading from a small sailboat to a trawler once I could afford it, because sailing the coasts wasn’t enough. I had to be able to cross oceans.

And now Whitney.

And the fact that I’ve been here nine months now.

Aside from the occasional visits, it’s only been family tragedy that’s drawn me back for any length of time: Corrine’s cancer and my parents’ death.

I look at it all from a distance, and things become more and more clear, little by little.

At that moment, I realize just where my feet have taken me. I’m turning off the street and crossing the parking lot that’s next to the marina. The sea wind is rushing up to greet me, like an old friend. I could say I came here accidentally, I suppose. But the thing is, here in Swan Pointe, I know what’s around all these corners. There must have been a part of me that knew exactly where I was going.

For months I’ve been wanting to say that I will stay. I’ve been wanting to make my family the promise I knew they wanted to hear. But I refused. Because I wanted to be sure. I didn’t want to make a promise if I was going to just turn right around and break it.

It was Evie all over again, except worse, because it was my family and they were already wounded. Who in the hell wants to be the asshole to put a knife in the wound?

Not me.

I wanted to stay.

I also wanted to leave.

Both in equal measure.

Then Whitney came along. I didn’t want to walk away from her, and now I’ve made all these promises all over the place.

Now, at the worst possible moment in time, as I stand here at the docks in the middle of the night with the wind whipping around me, every voice in my head falls to silence as I gain the clarity I’ve been wanting this entire time.

Now I know why I didn’t want to tell them I’m staying, even after I decided I would. I know why I’m not happy about Whitney’s promotion. I even know exactly what’s brought me here in the middle of the night.

For the first time in months, I know precisely what I want.

Now that I know, I do what I always do. I act. I head down the dock toward my boat and start to untie the stern line.

Minutes later, I’m gone.

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Chapter 26

Whitney

A fierce storm has been pounding San Francisco mercilessly all morning, but even the dark skies and rain gusts buffeting my window aren’t enough to dampen my mood. Connor told his family yesterday. He finally made a decision for real and he’s staying. He’s really staying.

I’ve made a decision too. I don’t want to do the long-distance thing anymore. I should’ve been upfront with Connor about how I’m feeling. If it doesn’t feel like too big of a step for him right now, I’d rather try to find work in Swan Pointe than take the promotion here. I don’t expect him to make the “ultimate promise”, as he puts it, but I’m willing to take chances if he is.

I’ll call and talk to him about it after work tonight.

Meanwhile, I’m knee-deep in one of our influxes of paperwork as a new group of refugee orphans enter our program. The reason we have this new group is, as always, gut wrenching.

As much as I’ve loved working with these kids, I do think I need to find something less hands-on. Talking to Connor about things helped me feel better about the possibility of that, and as I’ve considered what it would be like to have a job like Manager of Resettlement, it’s made me realize there are other things I can do that will fit my personality better. Things in Swan Pointe, maybe.

So, all in all, that rain can pound on my window all it wants. I’m in love with Connor and at peace with myself.

What could be better?

Our receptionist sticks her head in my office with a strange look on her face. “Whitney, there’s someone here to see you. A Connor Rivers?”

“Connor Rivers?” I glance at my office phone, expecting to see a red light indicating he’s actually waiting on the line, even though she said he’s here and not on the phone. “He’s here?”

She nods. “In the lobby. He’s dripping wet.”

I pop out of my chair and follow her to the lobby. He’s by the front doors, standing like he’s too restless to sit, and is indeed soaking wet. I head straight for him as the receptionist goes back to her desk.

He sees me and breaks out into a smile. I smile too. “What are you doing here?”

He gives me a kiss—we forego what would be a very wet hug—but as we pull back and I get a good look at him, it only adds to my confusion. I’ve never seen this expression on his face before. There’s an intensity and anxiety there I can’t read.

“Are you okay?”

He glances at the receptionist. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

In that one moment, Connor did what the storm had failed to do all day. “Sure.” I lead him to the small conference room with a terrible sinking feeling in my gut.

We go in and I shut the door. There’s an oblong table in the middle, surrounded by eight straight-back chairs. One wall is all windows with what’s normally a nice eighteen-story view of the bay. Right now it’s hidden by the dark rain.

Connor doesn’t sit. He takes to pacing, looking at the table, and at me, and out the window, and back at me again. I take in his drenched appearance. “How did you get here?”

“My boat.” He waves a hand dismissively, still pacing.

“In this weather?!” I look out at the bay again. It’s twice as ominous now.

“Yeah. Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Damn near capsized trying to come into the bay.”

“What?!”

“But I’m here,” he says, again waving a dismissive hand and still pacing. “I needed to talk to you. You know, I had to come here and talk to you. I had it all worked out how I wanted to say it, and now it’s all jumbled up.”

He’s still pacing. Aside from being terrified about whatever it is he wants to say, I’m concerned about the way he’s acting. He almost seems in shock. I think about him being out in this storm all morning, and his statement that he nearly capsized.

“Are you hurt?”

“Huh?” He stops and looks at me.

“Did you hit your head?”

His eyebrows shoot up and he blinks at me. Then he breaks out into a broad grin. Then he starts laughing. Like, really laughing.

“Oh my god,” I say, even more alarmed now and pulling out a chair. “Come sit down.”

But he shakes his head, still laughing, and walks right up to me. He puts his hands on my face, still chilled from being outside, and looks down at me. My hands and forearms are on his damp shirt. God, he has to be freezing, I think, but with the way he’s looking at me, all I can do is look back. “I love you.” As my heart lifts at hearing these words from him he plants a firm kiss on my lips.

Now I’m really confused, because something seems wrong but he’s telling me he loves me and I don’t know what to think. I kiss him back, out of fear and joy and love and desperation. I’m spinning.

We finally pull away. “I love you, too.”

He grins and exhales deeply. “You do?”

I nod. “But you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He kisses me again reassuringly. “I just… I just realized, I think I may have made a promise but I don’t know if I can keep it.”

I’m really panicking now. “I didn’t ask you to make a promise to me.” So please don’t go.

“No, honey, no.” He strokes my cheeks and kisses me again. “Not you. My family. Here, come here.” He sits on the chair and pulls me right into his lap with him.

I curl around him, hugging him and his cold, damp shirt, not caring.

He hugs me back. “God, I’m screwing this all up,” he says softly in my ear. “I don’t remember how I was going to say all this, so I’ll just tell you, okay?” He gently pulls me back so we can look at each other. “Just listen and I’ll try to explain it, all right?”

I nod.

“I told my family I would stay, but maybe I shouldn’t have. Because you’ve got this great job and this incredible promotion and maybe you aren’t going to want to leave that later, you know? What if you want to stay here and then I’m stuck down in Swan Pointe?”

He pauses, and I don’t know if he wants an answer or what, but my brain’s trying to work this out. What is he saying?

“So, I… okay, look, I’m not trying to get you to make a promise to me before you’re ready. And I had it all worked out how I was going to ask you this, but I forget it all now.” He’s back to looking intense and anxious, like he was out in the lobby. “But do you think there’s any possibility you might be willing to move to Swan Pointe in the future?”

My breath catches in my throat.

“You don’t have to say you will for sure,” he says quickly. “I don’t want to rush you. But if you know for sure you wouldn’t want to give up your job or your city, is it all right if you tell me that now? Because then I’ll know what to tell them and I’d rather they know now. I don’t want to blindside them later. Do you understand?”

No, I don’t. I don’t understand what he’s saying. “So, if I’m not willing to move there, you’ll go back to wandering?”

“No,” he says, urgently, shaking his head and holding my eyes. “No. If you don’t want to go there, I’d want to come here.”

I blink at him. “You’d come here?”

“Only if you want. God, I’m not trying to pressure you or move too fast. It’s just that I told them I’d stay and if there’s a possibility I could take that back, I want to tell them I made a decision too soon.”

“You’d come here?” I say again, my whole heart and body lifting as it sinks in what he’s saying to me.

“Maybe you don’t know where this is going yet, and that’s okay. I’m not asking you to make promises you’re not able to—”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” He blinks at me. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’d move to Swan Pointe.”

His face softens, and all the anxiety I saw on his face starts to drain away. He strokes my hair. “You would?”

I nod. “But…”

His hand freezes as he watches me.

“I’m…” I stop. Then I say the thing I’ve been afraid of all along. “I don’t want to be that leash tying you down.”

He strokes my hair again and smiles. “You’re not. That’s what I realized. You’re my anchor.”

Part of me relaxes, but another part of me is still nervous. “What’s the difference?”

He smiles gently. “It’s like the difference between good impulsive and bad impulsive,” he says, holding my eyes. “There’s always been this restlessness inside of me. It’s always, always been there.”

“The itch you can’t scratch.”

“Exactly!” His eyes light up the way they do when he gets to a fork in the road, or talks about his parents’ dream, or—I suddenly realize—looking at me. “I thought that itch was for adventure. But it wasn’t. It was the part of me that wanted more. Only I didn’t know what the more was, so I kept looking for it over the horizon and around the next corner.” He holds my face in his hands and gives me that tender look of his. “That thing I needed,” he says, “that more, it was you.”

He looks at the smile emerging on my lips and smiles too.

“Every time we’ve been apart, even just after Spain, I’ve felt something tugging on me. But it’s not the world that’s calling to me anymore. It’s you. I didn’t realize what it was until I was standing in the marina this morning, looking at my boat, and wanting to follow that tugging all the way here to you. I realized that for the first time in my life, I have something on the earth I’m anchored to. But it’s not a place or a job or even my family, even though I do love them and want to stay there. Only if you’re there though. Because you are my anchor now. You’re my home port. And God help you if you decide you don’t want me, because you see how persistent I can be.”

I laugh and put my hands on his face and kiss him again and again. “I love how persistent you are.” We both grin at each other. “And impulsive and amazing and, God, I just love you.”

“So you might come to Swan Pointe some day?”

“Connor.” I exhale gently. “I’d come to Swan Pointe tomorrow.”

“You would?” he says softly.

I nod. “I really, really wanted you to tell me not to take the promotion.”

“You did?” He grins and gives me a kiss. “I would have but I didn’t want to be a selfish ass.”

“I don’t want it.” I shake my head and thread my hands into the back of his hair. “I only want you.”

Chapter 27

Connor

I was in San Francisco a grand total of twelve hours before I had to rent a car and drive home so I could be back in time for a morning meeting. I had texted Lizzy so she wouldn’t think I just up and disappeared (permanently anyway).

I’ll drive back up on Friday and bring Whitney here on the boat, weather permitting. She gave her boss plenty of notice, so she won’t move here for another month, but she’s looking at houses with me this weekend, now that I’m finally ready to find a place.

Right now I’m at Rayce’s, dropping off Lizzy’s espresso machine that I don’t want and she doesn’t need, since Mom and Dad had one too. We’re finally starting to sort out what to do with everything, which we hadn’t done yet. It’s made me realize just how much everyone’s lives were on hold while I tried to figure out what was what.

We’re sitting at the wet bar in his basement, but keeping it simple with a couple of beers. Rayce lives in a sprawling ranch house that, frankly, could really use a woman’s touch.

Speaking of women, just before he takes a swig of his beer, he says, “I ended it with Taylor.” We’ve talked more in the last few days than we have in months, but other than an acknowledgement that an affair was, in fact, happening, he’s said little about it and I haven’t pushed. I’ve thought about it though. I suspect it was his way of trying to avoid dealing with our parents’ death, a little piece of self-destructive behavior that was, at least, better than turning to alcohol or drugs.

“That’s good.”

He looks at me and hesitates. I think he’s waiting for me to chastise him about this, which I’ve yet to do. “I know it was stupid.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’d have every right to. It could affect you guys too. Everything really.”

I know what he’s talking about. Even though the relationship was consensual, she could decide to sue for sexual harassment because Rayce is her boss. Dad would’ve kicked his ass all over California if he’d been around to do it. But Rayce is kicking himself plenty over there, I can see.

“I know,” I say.

Rayce gives me a serious look. “I won’t do that again.”

I already know this, now that the old Rayce is back. But this is a serious situation, and a little extra insurance never hurts. “Is that a promise?”

He nods. “I promise.”

“All right then. No more needs to be said.”

He sighs and takes a drink. “Sometimes something will come up at work and I’ll think, ‘I should ask Dad about this.’ Then I remember I can’t.”

“I do that, too. With both of them.”

He looks at me “Really?”

I nod.

“Huh,” he says, taking another drink. “Well, it sucks.”

I nod again. “I really wish they could’ve met Whitney.”

“Yeah. They’d like her.”

“I think so too.” I tell him about Whitney’s tortured big heart and how it’s so like Mom.

“She’s the kind of person you want running a foundation or something,” Rayce says, and finishes off his beer.

Now it’s my turn to say, “Huh.” That’s not a half bad idea.

“Wanna play Super Mario Brothers?” He gestures toward his game room. He’s never entirely outgrown his love for old video games, but I don’t think he’s touched any of it since Mom and Dad died. “We could order a pizza.”

I smile. “You’d better get wings too. It’ll ease the pain of me kicking your trash all over Mushroom Kingdom.”

As we head into Rayce’s game room, I think how remarkable it is to feel so content and settled. Is this what people feel like when they grow roots? Maybe I’ve been the one missing out after all.

I recall again the conversation I had with my mom, the day I told my family I was leaving the business. She had reassured me that it was okay to pick up and go, but she also told me it would be just as okay to come home one day and drop anchor. I can hear her voice now, and smile as I remember: “If you ever grow tired of the tumbleweed thing or decide you want something more, don’t sweat it kiddo. It’s just another bend in the road.”

What a beautiful bend it’s been, too.

I can’t wait to see what’s down the rest of this road I get to travel, with Whitney by my side.

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Chapter 28

Whitney

After a day spent house hunting, Connor and I are at Lizzy’s house for the monthly dinner with his family. Connor and his siblings are lounging on the couches, swapping stories and laughing, and Corrine and I are at the little table by the window overlooking the backyard and playing gin rummy.

Corrine gives the first impression of being a delicate flower. Maybe it’s her slight build. Or maybe it’s just an assumption I made about her, after having seen pictures of her wasted away in a hospital bed. A few games of gin rummy with her blew that impression right out of the water. This girl is a gin rummy ninja.

“Gin.” She lays down her hand, grinning.

Shit. See what I mean? “How do you keep doing that?”

She shrugs and starts gathering up the cards, still smiling. I smile too. She’s so endearing, it’s hard to get too mad at her.

“Wanna play again?” she asks.

“Anyone else want to get stomped on over here?” I say with a grin, and they laugh.

“I’ll play the next winner,” Lizzy says.

“Okay,” Corrine says, shuffling the cards like a Vegas blackjack dealer.

“She’s already assuming she’s going to win,” I say, teasing. Corrine shrugs with faux innocence.

“Okay, so go on with your story,” Lizzy says to Connor. He just started telling them the one about the marijuana guys he met at a remote campground in Washington, but I’m only half listening because I’ve heard it already and I’m trying to finally win a hand against Corrine.

“So these guys had been friends for forty years or something,” Connor continues as Corrine deals the cards, “and they ride their racing bicycles all over the place. This time they started in Couer d’Alene, Idaho and biked fifty or sixty miles a day to get to the coast. They didn’t have the physique you’d expect, either. Their legs were as skinny as all get out, but they all had these beer bellies on them. Maybe from drinking so much, because they were really putting it away. They were high-style drinkers too. Cognac.”

“Good choice,” Rayce says, nodding. As for first impressions, I’ve found it a lot easier to relate to Rayce after I saw him get stomped all over by Corrine himself.

“One guy had it in a shot glass, but the other guy had a big water glass full of it,” Connor says, holding up his hands to indicate. “He was the one who offered me a joint.”

“Which you claim you turned down,” Lizzy teases.

“I totally did. So we’re around the campfire and they’re telling the most raucous stories and getting hammered and I’m just trying to figure out how they do that at night and still function enough to ride so many miles the next day. Well we get to talking about the legalization of marijuana, and the guy tells me where he goes to get his hashish oil to smoke. ‘But,’ he says,” and Connor takes on the old guy’s voice for affect, “ ‘That’s not for everyday use. Just special occasions, like the symphony.’ ”

They all start laughing but I’m trying to figure out if I should pick up the five of spades or draw. Corrine’s watching me with an amused grin.

“So then he starts telling me that he smokes it for medicinal purposes, and that he didn’t smoke much after he quit in his twenties. His friend calls him out on it and says, ‘Bullshit. When did you ever quit? You’ve been smoking for as long as I’ve known you.’ ”

I finally pick up the five and discard my eight of hearts. Quick as lightning, Corrine picks it up and discards a king of diamonds. Dammit.

“So then,” Connor continues, laughing, Rayce and Lizzy laughing with him, “he says, ‘I read this article that says as you age, marijuana will eat the stuff in your brain that causes Alzheimer’s.’ I said, ‘Oh yeah? Where’d you read that?’ He says, ‘I don’t know. I forget.’ ”

Corrine starts laughing and looks over at Connor.

Rayce is laughing and says, “You’re making this shit up.”

Connor raises his hands, “I swear to god.”

I’m smiling too, but I’m too distracted to laugh with the others thanks to the lousy card I just drew. What the hell am I supposed to do with a ten of clubs?

The story concludes with Connor declaring, “Those old guys were quite the characters,” and the laughter settles down.

“Well, I better go pick up dinner.” Rayce gets off the couch. It’s his turn to cook, so I’ve learned that means he either picks something up or has it delivered.

Connor gets off the couch too and heads over to us as Corrine picks up yet another one of my discards. “How’s it going over here?” He plants a kiss on top of my head.

“I’m getting my ass kicked, that’s how it’s going.”

Corrine shrugs. “I’m trying to go easy on her.” But her happy grin betrays her lack of remorse.

“You Rivers kids are brutal,” I say, and Connor laughs.

I start pulling a card out of my hand to discard but he stops me. “Not that one. That one,” he says pointing.

“Hey, no cheating!” Corrine pulls her cards close to her chest, even though neither one of us can see them anyway.

“I’m not cheating. I’m helping.”

“Did you look at my cards when you came over?”

“No. Stop being a poor sport.”

She grins. “Me?”

He laughs and points to the card. “That’s the one,” he says again.

I shrug. It can’t hurt. I discard and she draws off the deck. Then she gets that gleeful look on her face I’m getting all too familiar with. “Gin!”

While Rayce goes out for food and Lizzy takes on the challenge of Corrine, Connor and I settle into the couch for some G-rated snuggling, since we have an audience and all. I lean against his chest and rest my hand on his stomach. He plays absently with my hair, stroking my shoulder in between.

Even sitting here on Lizzy’s couch, Connor gives me those feelings that should be contradictory, but aren’t. He makes me feel peaceful and alive, all at once.

“I want to go somewhere with you,” I say impulsively. “Once I’m down here.”

I haven’t started looking for work yet. Connor’s encouraged me to take a short break after I move so I have some time to really think about what I want to do next. It’s not a bad idea, so I won’t start looking until I’m moved and settled. That would be the perfect time for us to take a longer trip together.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks easily, still playing with my hair.

“I don’t know. Japan?”

He chuckles and wraps his arms around me, settling deeper into the couch. “Hmm. Good choice. I’ve never been to Japan and that one’s been on my list for a long time.” He’s got that honey-sweet pull to his voice. I look up and see that adventurer’s glint in his eyes.

“We could go right now.”

He laughs, strokes my cheek, and gives me a kiss. “Or we could get out a calendar and do it that way.”

“A calendar?” Corrine says, acting shocked he isn’t just jumping on the boat two seconds after realizing he wants to go somewhere.

He shrugs, not at all bothered from what I can tell. “She told her boss she’d stay until August 14. Anyway, I’d like to get a contractor finalized for the renovations to the teen center first.”

Lizzy’s giving him a fond smile. “I think you’re all grown up, kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo.”

I put my mouth next to his ear. “She wouldn’t call you kiddo if she knew what you can do with that cock of yours.”

Connor laughs and holds me closer.

“What are you two giggling about over there?” Lizzy asks, but forgets all about us when Corrine lays down her cards and yells, “Gin!”

“Dang it.” But Lizzy is smiling easily. As she gathers up the cards and starts shuffling, Connor tucks his finger under my chin so I’ll look at him.

He gives me that tender look, and I soften against him, smiling.

“I love you,” he mouths silently.

“I love you,” I mouth back, feeling safe and secure in his arms, with no fears about where he might go or what he might do next.

It’s only been four days since Connor showed up dripping wet, declaring his love for me and calling me his anchor. Maybe a reasonable person would wait to see if he really means it or if he’s going to end up getting restless later after all, but I don’t need to wait.

I see it in his eyes. I feel it in his arms and in my heart.

I’ve tamed the wind, and made it mine.

the end

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