Page 80 of Diving In

“I wonder how long it’s been there,” Cal said.

“Who knows. I didn’t think people actually left messages in bottles these days.”

I tried to twist the lid, but it wouldn’t budge. After many embarrassing failures, I held it out to Cal, and with a single twist, the lid popped open. He grinned at me, trying to boast without actually boasting, but I ignored him and went straight for the paper inside.

The letter had been properly folded and labeled, and what I saw on that label was something I never would have imagined. Something I was not mentally prepared for.

Georgiawas sprawled across the page.

Every muscle tensed at once, leaving me frozen, stuck in shock. I forced myself to take a breath just as my knees buckled and I collapsed, Cal catching me just in time and gently guiding me to the floor.

“Georgia, what is it? Are you okay?”

I showed him the letter, and I knew the moment he saw it. He brought me to his chest and clutched me tighter, his presence helping my muscles to slowly relax.

“Did you know about this one?” I questioned him.

With empathy in his tone and love in his eyes, he responded, “I didn’t, I promise.”

I wasn’t sure why this letter hit me so much harder than all the others. You would think that each letter would be a little easier, but I had been sure the last one was truly the last one, so this one was unexpected and… different. After reading the last letter and then making the decision to come back to the island, I had forgiven him.

I had forgiven Jack.

He’d said everything he needed to say in his last letter, and I really couldn’t imagine there was anything left to say. With Cal posted up behind me, both his legs on either side of my body, I snuggled in.

“I want you to read this one too,” I said.

He squeezed his arms around me and planted a kiss on the top of my head, giving me the answer I had been looking for.

Dear Georgia,

This is actually the last letter, I promise.

I told you this island was magic.

I knew you’d fall in love all over again and never want to leave. And if you’re reading this, it means you finally faced your fear. One way or another, you did it, kid. You showed the ocean who boss and made your way back to the one place you never dreamed you’d be. I knew it was always fear standing in your way, and fear has a funny way of making us miss out on some incredible things. Like spending time with your daughter, for example. I feared that if you knew I was sick, you would pity me and come rushing back here. So instead, I wrote these letters in hopes that you would return upon my passing.

I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry I hurt your mother, and I’m sorry I hurt our family. My biggest regret is not fixing what was broken. I know it’s too late to mend the past, but what I can do is have a hand in shaping the future.

First, I want to tell you that I left the aquarium to Cal. I hope you remembered him from all those years ago. He was one of Fletcher’s friends and he’s a hell of a guy. It feels like Cal has worked with me at the aquarium since before he could walk. He’s been like a son to me, and I always knew he’d be the one to take over. I didn’t want you to have to take on that burden, especially because it would only be a matter of time before the fish died. We all know you wouldn’t dare get in the water to feed them. And in the off chance that you weren’t going to stay on the island, I wanted to make sure the aquarium stayed in the hands of someone local.

Next up is you, Georgia James Windsor. My girl. The girl who had dreams as big as the sky and love as deep as the ocean. I was going to share this in my previous letter, but I didn’t want it to be the reason you chose to stay, I wanted you to make that decision all on your own. If I know anything about you, I know that at some point you went to The Scoop, only to be let down once again that it was closed.

Ever since I can remember, you’ve loved being in the kitchen, promising me that you’d have your own bakery one day. You always were a dreamer, but somewhere along the way, you lost that. I hope this reignites your passion and shows you how short life really is, because Ms. Nelson had a few wishes before she passed. One was particularly special. She’d hoped the shop would be passed on to someone who “gave two shits about this little slice of heaven.” So, I bought it. I paid for it in full. But the thing is, I put it in your name, not mine. And all I ask in return is for you to add your famous lemon poppy seed scones to the menu.

I stopped reading, my voice held hostage by the emotion clogging my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut and immediately felt the sting of salty tears against my cheeks. Cal gripped me tighter, not having to say a word because I could feel everything he was saying. I took a few deep breaths, swallowed a few times to ensure I still could, and continued.

That isn’t the only thing in your name. That perfectly painted pink front door that you and your mother loved so much… It’s all ours. That cottage will forever be home, but I couldn’t bring myself to live there after the two of you left. Everywhere I looked, I saw the family that I no longer had. It was excruciating. But you… You always loved that house. Perfectly perched between the forest of palm trees and the sandy beach. Quaint and quiet, just how you liked it. I hope that will become home again for you. As for the obnoxiously large house on the water that I never should have bought, I want you to sell that. Take the earnings and put them into a college fund for Beau. I already have it all set up, so you’ll just need to sign the papers.

Before I sign off for good, I want you to know something. I’m so damn proud of you. I’m proud of you for sticking it out and staying on the island even though I just know you wanted to leave the second you stepped foot here. But you didn’t, and that makes you stronger than you realize. I’m proud of you for getting off this island and giving yourself time to heal, even if all the healing ended up happening here anyway. I’m proud of you for the woman you’ve become and for the daughter you are to both your mom and me. I’m proud of you for being strong when everyone else around you was crumbling to pieces. But most importantly, I’m proud of you for all the things I never told you I was proud of.

I know this island has brought you an unbearable amount of pain, but never let that take precedence over the rest of your memories. My hope is that you’ll see it just as clearly as I do that this island has also brought you so much good and so much happiness. If anything, I want you to remember that happiness, grip onto it, and never let it go. In fact, I want you to invite it in and let it completely consume you.

This island is mine, this island is yours, this island is ours. All of ours.

I love you way past heaven.

Dad

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