Page 151 of What You Wish For

“Yes!” Alice grabbed my arm to stop me and turn me around. “Every single deployment Marco goes on is too much for me. Every time I say goodbye knowing I might never see him again is too much for me. But guess what? I do it anyway.”

She had me there. I looked away.

Alice went on. “I do it anyway because it’s worth it! Because I refuse to let fear make me small. Because being brave is good for you.”

“Great,” I said, turning to keep walking. “Awesome.”

Alice and Babette followed me. Alice went on, “You’ve been telling Duncan ever since he got here that he can’t let fear control his every move. That he can’t live in a prison to stay safe. But that’s exactly what you just did. You put yourself in a prison. How are you going to face him day after day like this? How are you going to work with him knowing that he stayed—that he did everything you asked—and you still couldn’t find the courage to say yes?”

“I’m not,” I said then, slowing to turn and face them. “I’m not going to work with him. I’m quitting.”

Alice and Babette fell quiet.

“I always knew this was going to happen,” I said. “I always knew his coming here would run me out of town. Fine! I’m a hypocrite! I’m the one who’s afraid. I’m the person who has lived her whole life in fear. I’m the one who talks about being courageous without any idea at all what that even means. So, yes—I’m going to chicken out. And get the hell out of here. And give the hell up.”

“No,” Babette said then.

“No? ‘No’ what?”

“No, you’re not leaving. And no, you’re not quitting. And no—you are not giving up on Duncan. Or on yourself. Or on love.”

As she hit the word “love,” her voice broke. But in her dignified way she stood up straighter and took a step closer. “Life doesn’t ever give you what you want just the way you want it. Life doesn’t ever make things easy. How dare you demand that happiness should be yours without any sacrifice—without any courage? What an incredibly spoiled idea—thatanythingshould come easy? Love makes you better because it’s hard. Taking risks makes you better because it’s terrifying. That’s how it works. You’ll never get anything that matters without earning it. And even what you get”—she lifted her chin in defiance—“you won’t get to keep. Joy is fleeting. Nothing lasts. That’s exactly what courage is. Knowing all that going in—and going in anyway.”

There were tears on her face now, but she held my gaze. I thought about everything she’d lost. I thought about what kind of courage it must have taken just now for her to search a darkened city for her missinggrandson—to know that anything could have happened, to face down the terror of all of it, but to show up, anyway. To go looking and to keep looking—all through the night and into the dawn.

How exhausted she must be.

And yet, here she was. Standing on the seawall in her housecoat, her eyes red with exhaustion—and stubbornly, insistently, caring about me and all my stupid choices.

This was what it meant to be alive. This was what it meant to let the beauty of it all break your heart. I got it in a new way, looking at her right then. And I got something else, too. This is what it meant to be part of a family.

I wasn’t going to quit. For better or for worse, I belonged here—on this island in this sea-battered old city. These were the people I’d chosen to love—who had chosen to love me, too. I wouldn’t turn my back on them. And they weren’t about to let me turn my back on myself.

“You’re right,” I said then, nodding. I stepped closer and squeezed Babette’s hand. Then I turned to Alice. “You’re right, too.”

“I’m always right.”

Then I looked back the way we’d come, toward the pier at Murdochs. Would Duncan still be there?

Then I looked at Babette and Alice, and both already knew what I was thinking. Then Babette reached out and gave my shoulder a little push just as Alice shouted, “Go!” And that was everything I needed.

I took off running.

I made it back to where we’d started in seconds, it seemed.

There were still a few cop cars parked on the boulevard. Maybe not everybody had gone.

I reached the edge and looked down the steps toward the beach, breathing hard, hopeful to find him.

But the beach was empty—like none of us had ever even been there at all.

I turned around, still breathing. Where was he? Back at the station? Back at school? I had no idea. I turned in a kind of panoramic sweep, hoping to spot him somewhere.

But that’s when the passenger door of one of the squad cars opened, and Duncan climbed out.

I ran over to him and stopped just short of throwing myself into his arms.

“I’m sorry!” I said.

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