Page 24 of Sea La Vie
“Right!”
When Lainey returns, she’s in a pair of cutoffs and a tank top that matches the chipped, sky blue paint of her toenail polish peeking out from her flip-flops. “We still keep the canoe across the road. I’m ready if you are.”
Sam squeals in delight, then grabs Lainey’s hand as we cross the street. Once we’re across, he let’s go immediately, and begins pushing the canoe toward the water.
“Go ahead and hop in, and I’ll push us off,” she tells us both. I settle on the hard, worn bench in the middle and Sam sits on the edge of his bench in the front. Lainey pushes us off and effortlessly jumps in behind me, water droplets running down her calves to her bare feet. She’s already kicked off her flip-flops and thrown them in the front of the canoe.
We paddle the short distance to Pirate Island—dipping our paddles in the cool, sparkling water in silence—and I marvel at the landscape surrounding us. On one side, all the old homes from when Widow’s Wharf was a prominent fishing town line the bank. Most have been redone, restored to their former glory, with large white pillars on ornately decorated front porches with blue ceilings. Some, however, mirror my fishing cottage and boast uneven shutters and faded, chipped paint. On the other side lies Pirate Island, a small island separating us from the Atlantic, teeming with wildlife and the occasional wild horse seeking refuge from the elements. And between the two is the expanse of shimmering water that is Wharf Creek.
Moments later, we’re pulling the canoe up onto the sand. Sam sprints off ahead of us, bending down every few seconds to pick up a treasured seashell that he shoves into his pocket.
“It’s hard to believe we were his age when we first met,” I say. “He seems like a happy kid.”
“He is,” Lainey says, guiding us in Sam’s footsteps toward the water. “He hasn’t started asking questions yet about why his mom and dad don’t live together. I wish I could bottle this Sam up forever and keep him in my pocket. He’s so wholesome. Still naive and not embarrassed to hold my hand.” Ahead of us, Sam cuts up the beach toward a path in the woods that would only be visible if you knew where to look.
“Speaking of his mom and dad, do you know what happened there?” I ask. “Between Eden and Henry?”
Lainey shakes her head and we cut over to follow Sam down the barely visible path. “I don’t. I’ve tried to wring it out of both Eden and my brother for years, but neither will budge. We all have.” She shrugs a tan shoulder. “They were perfect together, though.”
“Strange,” I muse.
“Very,” Lainey agrees. “Both are headstrong and stubborn, so I’m sure neither one will hear the other out.”
“Henry’s pretty quiet now,” I say. “Kind of the opposite of Eden, don’t you think?”
Lainey giggles. “Eden can be pretty opinionated. She’s fearless, though, and loves with her whole heart once you chip away at the wall surrounding it.”
“Up here!” Sam yells from above us. I tilt my head toward the canopy of trees and spot Sam, waving wildly, about a third of the way up in a surprisingly large treehouse.
“Be there in a minute!” Lainey yells back, then turns toward me. “Do you want to go up?”
I do a quick once over of the treehouse. Crooked boards with faded paint lead up to a much larger treehouse than I remember. Glowing Edison lights are strung around the top of it, and I do adouble take. “Do I see rooms and a back porch? There’s no way this is the same treehouse we played in as kids.”
Lainey ties her hair behind her in a loose ponytail, and I’m momentarily mesmerized by her grin that leads way to a gravelly laugh. “Actually, it is… sort of. We kept the bones of the old one, but we’ve added to it as you can tell.” Her grin spreads into a smile that lights up her entire face, and for a moment, I’m sixteen again, staring at the girl who I knew loved everything about me, even when it felt like everyone else didn’t.
She still resembles the same young girl, with freckles splattered across her nose and eyes such a unique shade of green, almost like seafoam. And her waves are still wild and tangled.
I follow her to the steps and watch as she climbs up them. Again, I’m transported back to the early 2000s, watching Lainey do the same exact thing, counting the bracelets tied around her ankle. Sam offers her a hand and Lainey takes it, pretending to struggle.
He then lays on his belly, his head popping out over the edge of the opening. “Don’t be scared, Tate. You can do it. Just don’t look down, okay?” Past him, Lainey grins, and I know this same line has been rehearsed to him over and over.
“Okay!” I yell back. “I’ll try my best!”
When I get close to the top, Sam stands proudly with his little fists balled on his hips. “I knew you could do it,” he beams. “Follow me!”
Lainey and I shuffle behind him as he guides us around the treehouse. Although it is much larger than before, Sam’s imagination has run wild, showing us the kitchen that’s nothing more than a box with an old spoon and bowl, and the bedroom that’s actually quite inviting with lights strung around the top and an air mattress sitting on the floor, covered in tattered, wellloved quilts. Posters of surfers are tacked along the walls, and Sam follows my gaze. “What do you think, Tate? Isn’t it cool?”
“Way cool,” I agree.
“Dad, Lainey, and Uncle Huck built it for me last summer when I almost fell through the old one.” I glance at Lainey with wide eyes. She nods in affirmation.
“We have enough trips to the emergency room with you as it is,” she giggles and ruffles his hair. “We didn’t need one more.”
“I broke my arm a couple summers ago riding my bike and had strep throat once that came with a really bad fever,” Sam says in a way of an explanation. “I’m going to go back down for a minute and see if I can find any more shells to add to my collection.”
I watch as he nimbly climbs down the worn boards and scurries off toward the water line. “What I would do to go back for a day and have that kind of imagination,” Lainey says. She props a hip against the railing and crosses her tan, toned arms.
“I miss that,” I agree. “Although, Cara and I really only got to play like that here, with you all. When we were home, it was different.”
