Wow.“And I take it you don’t approve?”
“No. I don’t. But it’s just a process.”
Molly thought back to Alexia’s words about Jake and her having dated. It seemed there was no love lost on either side. “All right. Thanks for the heads-up.”
A brief silence followed. “Also, Annabelle suggested I set up a meeting with my father. How would sometime next week suit you?”
While she considered her response, a rogue wave crept up on her, soaking her leggings as it rushed around her shins. “Shit.”
Jake chuckled. “Okay. Not quite the answer I expected but noted.”
“Sorry, that wasn’t meant for you.”
“Are you at Petrie Bay? I can hear the surf.”
“No, I’m home in Tulloch Point for a couple of days.”
“You still call it home?”
“I guess I do. Have you ever been here?”
“Once, years ago. Jesse and I surfed at a beach called Sandwater Bay. Caught some epic waves.”
“That’s where I am right now. I love it here. It’s a great place for reflection.”
“Yeah, I guess it would be.”
Her thoughts returned to Jake’s comment about meeting with his father. For some reason, the idea filled her with dread. “And about your dad, I might think on that for a bit if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” He paused again. “And, Molly…”
Butterflies danced in her stomach at the sound of her name on Jake’s lips. It seemed that no matter your age, it was still possible to go all giddy when an interesting man said your name. “Yes?”
“Thanks for the ride the other night. I imagine it must have been weird having me judge you in the bake-off, given the circumstances.”
Jake spoke with a tenderness that conveyed they did indeed have a connection—something deeper than the situation they found themselves in. It seemed the more she got to know him, the fewer the comparisons between Jake and his twin became.
Even so, coming home had been more of an emotional tug than Molly anticipated. The last time she was here, Jesse was merely a confused memory, someone who occasionally occupied her recollections. However, as she’d driven past the run-down hotel where they’d once slow-dancedinto the early hours, the sorrow of Jesse’s death had intensified to the point where tears obscured her vision, and she’d had to pull over.
Sometimes, the fragility of life seemed so unfair.
“Molly? Are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry. And no problem. Enjoy your day.”
Molly ended the call before he could respond. She strolled toward the dunes, sat cross-legged in the sand, and gazed out over the bay. She’d seldom seen it so calm, making her suspect a storm might be brewing.
And then she remembered something—the autographed drumsticks.
Shafts of sunlight streamed through the attic window, reminding Molly of days past when she’d spent time with her head buried in a good book or digging around in their red brick box of LEGO for her hidden Easter eggs stash.
As she rummaged through her grandmother’s old glory box, searching for the pillowcase containing the drumsticks, Molly came across a box of photos from her childhood. Inside was a USB stick with the initials JS written on it in Sharpie.
Thinking she might give it to Jake, Molly stuffed the USB in her pocket before continuing her search. The pillowcase lay beside a stack of old fashion magazines, its percale now yellow with age. She removed the drumsticks and brushed her fingertips over the autograph, then found a place to sit.
Jesse had sent them to her a month after their liaison ended. No note. No phone call. She’d wanted to send them straight back, but the package held no return address, and the sentiment gave her hope that one day they might meet again, and with the maturity that time allows, perhaps she could thank him with a hug and a smile.
Unfortunately, that meeting wasn’t to be, and as she reminisced, a nostalgic sadness surfaced. In between all the angst and doubt, they’d had fun that summer, and some days, Molly believed that fun would last forever.
