Page 16 of Find Me in California

Saturday

CHAPTER 8

MATT

Awake with the sun, Matt calls Lenore first thing. He’s told she isn’t expected for another hour, so the attendant transfers him to her voicemail box. Matt hangs up and calls back an hour later. She still hasn’t arrived, so he waits an hour before giving her another try. He’s informed she’s in a meeting.

He impatiently tosses his phone onto the kitchen island. He learned at a young age to eat everything he’s served, but he wants Elizabeth off his plate. He can’t focus on his work.

He paces to the sliding glass wall and stands there, arms folded, staring outside. The sky is an ominous gray with the threat of thunderstorms. Rain is expected throughout the day. He rubs his eyes and yawns into his cupped palms. Up past two in the morning, he fell asleep at his desk. But he finished curating theRoad & Trackphotos, whittling them down to ten, which he edited and sent to Dave for him to forward. He needs to start on the Ford photos. That will take several days and extra care since Ford’s a new client.

He rubs the dull ache in his right temple. He already took an edible this morning and considers taking another when a memory sneaks up on him. He’s on the deck ofKey to My Heartwith his dad and a few other men who chartered his dad’s boat to deep-sea fish. His mom runsalong the dock, waving for them to wait. She’s wearing white shorts and a lime-green shirt faded from many washings. Her favorite because it brought out the green in her eyes.

“You forgot lunch,” she said, breathless when she reached the boat. They were running late that morning, and in his rush to have the boat ready before his clients arrived, Joel had forgotten to pick up their order. “The deli called.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Aubs.” Joel took the deli bags from her and handed them off to Matt. “Put these in the cooler, kiddo.”

“Just a sec.” His mom grabbed Matt’s shoulders and before he could thinkincoming, she dropped ten kisses around his face. For as long as he could remember, she’d kiss him like that, starting at his forehead and circling from cheek to chin to cheek, ending on the tip of his nose. A kiss for each year. Every year he’d received one more kiss. Normally it didn’t bother him. But his dad’s clients were watching. “Mom, stop.” He wiped his face when she let him go, scratching his nose and chin where her hair had tickled him.

She laughed, the faint freckles he could only see up close because she was always so tan crinkling on her nose. “Hurry up with helping your dad. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“I know!” he griped, and took the deli bags to the cooler, but not before he saw her kiss his dad. On the mouth, with tongue, and in public. Gross. They always did that, embarrassing him. But now when Matt thinks back on it, he sees clearly they’d been so in love.

“Storm’s coming in tonight. We’ll only be out six hours or so.” Joel patted her rear.

“Counting on it.” One more kiss before she walked back up the dock, waving at friends on a neighboring boat.

Joel looked at his watch. “Time’s up, Matt. I have to set off.” He ruffled Matt’s hair and gave him a high five, and Matt jogged after his mom, never suspecting it would be the last time he’d see his dad.

Gazing out the window at the dark clouds, Matt comes out of the memory feeling like he always does: awful. He can’t imagine not feelingthis way when he remembers his parents, his mom particularly, which is why he doesn’t think about them.

Anytime someone brings them up in conversation, he shuts them down or changes the subject. Elizabeth might have been cold toward him for the eight years he lived with her, but there was one benefit to that. He didn’t have to talk about his parents.

But memories of his mom always sneak up when he least expects them and leave him shaken. He can barely picture her face anymore, but he can still hear her laughter. Every once in a while, he’ll catch the scents of jasmine and vanilla in the perfect balance that was his mom, and his chest will ache something fierce, overshadowing the constant throb in his head. Those headaches started when the nightmares did.

He had his first bad dream on his second night at his grandmother’s. He jolted awake in a dark room that had yet to feel familiar with his heart pounding, gasping for air. In the dream, he’d been searching for his mom underwater. From the corners of his eyes, he’d see her hair, the flash of a pale arm. But each time he turned, there would be nothing. Just cold blackness.

He wiped away his tears with trembling hands, his haunted eyes darting for the sliver of dim light under the closed door. Without thought, he followed that light into the hallway, seeking reassurance as he would have done with his parents. The comfort of their arms chased away his fears.

He found his grandmother’s door open a crack but lost his nerve when he saw her reading in bed. She was the last person who’d comfort him. When he arrived two days before and stood mutely shaking his head after she’d asked if he had at least tried to save his mom, she informed him he wasn’t to speak to her unless spoken to.

He started to back away from her bedroom door, but the movement caught her attention. She lowered her book and called out. “What do you want?”

He gulped at the reproach in her tone and retreated.

“I asked you a question, Matthew.”

“I ... I had a bad dream.” This was where his mom would throw back the covers and invite him into bed. She’d spoon his back and hug him while she hummed a lullaby. He’d feel safe in her arms and fall back to sleep.

“I miss my mom,” he said before he could stop himself.

“And whose fault is that?” Her voice added pounds to the unbearable weight of misery he already carried.

“Mine,” he mumbled.

“Speak up.”

“Mine,” he said more firmly, his conviction weaving into his bones.

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