Page 31 of The House on Firefly Beach
“It’s good to have those kinds of people in our lives, isn’t it?” Uncle Hank said. He winked at Sydney, but she didn’t find the humor in this conversation. It terrified her. Nate clearly had too much going on in that head of his to be what Robby needed.
Sydney’s mother waved at Nate, who was headed toward them. Speak of the devil.
“Robby! Go long!” he called down the road, his hands in the air.
Robby’s face lit up like the sunrise on a clear day and he cocked back and then let the ball go. It landed right into Nate’s hands.
“You’ve got a good arm on you,” Nate said to Robby when they reached each other. He tossed Robby the ball. “I’ve got a big spot in the back yard cleared out for us to play.”
As they reached Malory’s cottage, Robby ran ahead, “Show me, Nate!” he called, not stopping as he got to the grass.
“Guess I’d better follow him around back,” Nate said, running off before Sydney had even had a chance to redirect her son.
“Here, let me take that.” Sydney’s mother hooked her fingers through the handles of the gift bag. “You need to go inside and relax. It’s been ages since you’ve spent an evening with Malory. I’m sure she’ll be delighted that you’ve come tonight.”
“I should probably go find Robby,” Sydney said, but her mother caught her arm.
“He’ll be okay,” she replied, unspoken words in her eyes. “He’s just playing football. Let’s go in, say hello to the birthday girl, and get a drink.”
When they got inside, Malory rushed over to them happily. “Hi!” she said, giving Sydney and her mother a big squeeze of a hug. She seemed genuinely delighted to see them, despite the undercurrent of unease that had slithered between Malory and Sydney because of Nate. “Uncle Hank! I’m so glad you could come too.”
“Glad to see you,” Uncle Hank said. Everyone in town who was Sydney’s age had referred to Hank and Clara as if they were family, and Malory was no different.
“I was hoping to get to talk to you at the wedding. I had to take Juliana home,” Malory said, linking her arm with Sydney’s like they used to do. Her actions contrasted with the lingering questions in her gaze.
Sydney missed the days when they’d skipped along the side of the road between their houses without a care in the world.
“I know; Nate told me,” she said, wishing Malory could’ve spent more time at the wedding, too. Sydney longed for the lighthearted atmosphere that used to follow them wherever they went.
Clearly sensing the dynamic, Uncle Hank said, “Malory, I’m so happy to see you invited the Fergusons. Jacqueline and I should say hello.” Sydney’s mother lit up at the sight of their long-time friends and followed Uncle Hank over to the owners of the bait and tackle shop in town.
“Can I show you something?” Malory asked the moment they were alone, noticeably taking advantage of the short lull in conversation with her guests. She took Sydney to a bedroom in the back.
The room was tidy, the bed made; the only evidence that anyone was even staying in the room was the lump of Nate’s clothes that were draped on a side chair beside a pair of stilettos. Sydney sat down on the bed, trying not to imagine the two people who had slept in it last night.
Malory opened a drawer, and Sydney immediately recognized the old notebook she pulled from it. “That’s mine,” Sydney said, the surprise over seeing it again after all these years making her breathless. “I wondered where it went.”
Malory sat down beside her and handed Sydney the tattered leather-bound book. Gingerly, Sydney opened the cover and ran her fingers down the words. “I couldn’t think of anything to say…” She looked up, swallowing to alleviate the lump that was forming. “Nate got me this notebook because mine was full, and it was so clean and perfect that I remember I had trouble knowing what to write first because I didn’t want to ruin the beauty of it.” She looked back down at that first entry. “Nate told me to harness that emotion and write the first thing that came to my mind. All I could think about was how, one day, I wanted my writing to be worthy of such a gorgeous gift as this book and a sort of manifest destiny rushed through me. I wrote this.” She turned the notebook around and showed Malory what she’d written:
I am destined for great things.
What had happened to that drive? Sydney knew exactly what had happened to it. Nate had been that voice in her head, cheering her on, telling her how talented she was, and when he left her behind, it had made her feel like all his words had meant nothing. She’d suddenly felt like she’d been weighing him down. Looking back on her adult life so far, she hadn’t lived up to such a colossal statement as the one glaring back at her from the open page in her hand—in fact, just the sight of it made her feel like she’d been nothing but a silly child when she’d written that. Yet Nate had actually done so many great things. Perhaps he really had known back then how ridiculous that declaration was for her to write, he’d been wise enough to see that she wouldn’t be able to achieve her dreams. Maybe leaving them all had actually been the best decision he could’ve made…
“Nate had this book in his suitcase,” Malory said, tapping the notebook, grabbing hold of Sydney’s attention once more.
Sydney looked up at her friend, losing her breath for a second.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Malory told her. “He’s secretive, and he’s never like that with me. He’s overly protective of Juliana, but then I see him reading that journal of yours at night by the lamp in the living room, completely consumed by it, tears in his eyes… You and I both know that he wouldn’t be unfaithful to his girlfriend—I don’t care what kind of celebrity he’s become; he wouldn’t do that. But you’re all he talks about whenever it’s just the two of us. I think he’s come back here for you, Syd.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sydney said with an incredulous laugh.
“Is it?” There wasn’t a shred of amusement on Malory’s face. “You two dated for four years—that’s longer than he’s ever dated anyone else. He told me back then that you were the only person he could ever imagine spending his life with.”
“People change,” she countered. “And it doesn’t make any sense.” Sydney shook her head, completely baffled. Where had all this come from after so many years?
“I know he’s my big brother, so I probably give him the benefit of the doubt above and beyond what I should, but something tells me that there’s more in that head of his than what we’re seeing on the outside.” She leaned forward into Sydney’s view. “Think about it: nothing has brought him home for any length of time in all these years. He told me he called you before your wedding, but he wouldn’t elaborate as to why. All he said was that you shot him down and made him realize that you’d moved on with your life and he needed to do the same. Then you move back to Starlight Cottage—single—and within the year, he’s staying at my house, buying property, getting involved with local events—he’s even been working on his old truck.”
“He still has that thing?”
