Page 4 of For Lila, Forever

Placing my phone aside, I close my eyes once more and listen to the crash of the ocean outside my windows.

It doesn’t sound the same without her here.

And it sure as hell doesn’t feel the same.

I close my eyes and try to get some rest.

I’ll look for Lila forever if I have to.

I’ll start first thing tomorrow, and I won’t stop until I find her.

PART ONE [ past]

MAY 2009

Chapter 1

Thayer

She arrives at the island on the mail plane the Tuesday after Mother’s Day.

“Do we know her name?” I ask Granddad as we watch Ed and Junie, the estate’s caretakers, make their way up the cliffside to greet her.

“Lila, I believe it is,” he says. “Anyway.” His massive hand grips my shoulder and he turns away. “Good day for a sail, don’t you think?”

“Shouldn’t we say hi?” I ask.

Granddad huffs, his barrel chest inflating. “Welcome her? Thayer, the poor girl just lost her mother and got shipped three thousand miles from the only home she’s ever known. Give her a chance to get acclimated before you unleash your one-man welcome committee.”

For as long as I can remember, the family’s poked fun at my penchant for never knowing a stranger. In preschool, my nickname was Mr. Personality. In high school, I was elected class president all four years.

Granddad has never said it, but I think he views my inclusive nature and inherent friendliness as a weakness. That or he resents the fact that I’m not more closed off—like him.

In his older years—and since losing the love of his life back in ‘03, the man has become an island himself. It used to be he would only summer at Rose Crossing Island. But now my grandfather spends the entirety of the year here, biding his time until his daughters and grandchildren join him for three months of sun, sand, and sailing.

“Why hasn’t she been here before?” I ask, staying put as I try to get a closer look at the girl. From here, all I see is sun-kissed legs as she rises on her toes and California sun-bleached hair cascading down her back and shoulders as she wraps her arms around Junie’s shoulders. I find it odd that the Hilliards have worked for my grandparents’ since before I could walk, but not once has their one and only granddaughter ever paid them a visit.

“Why would she want to hang out with her grandparents while they work?” he asks, hooking his arm over my shoulders and leading me back toward the main house. “Speaking of which, she’s going to be working for us this summer, mostly helping Junie in the kitchen and with the laundry and housekeeping.”

“Okay …”

He leans in as we walk. “I’m telling you this for a reason, Thayer.”

He stops. I stop.

“I won’t have you distracting that young woman from her work,” he says. “Nor will I have you creating any … liabilities for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re a charming young man, Thayer. And the two of you are only here for the summer,” he says. “I won’t have you creating any liabilities, do you understand? She’s staff. She’s not to be some summer fling.”

I lift my palms. “All right.”

“There’s no limit to what a woman will do—or say—once her heart has been broken,” he adds as he begins to climb the steps toward the front door of the massive cedar-shingled home he once shared with my grandmother. Stopping, he turns back to me. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes.” I lean against the porch railing, letting the spring wind rustle through my hair and the salty air fill my lungs.

“I’m going to see if any of the others want to join us for our sail,” he says before disappearing inside.

The screen door opens and slams, but a second later it swings wide.

“Hey.” My cousin, Westley, steps out, adjusting his Red Sox cap, wavy tufts of auburn hair sticking out from beneath the blue canvas material. “You going on the boat with us?”

Squinting back toward the cliffs, I watch Ed, Junie, and their granddaughter make their way down the stony, weather-beaten path that leads to their cottage.

Westley tracks my gaze before hopping down the steps. “Ah, the mysterious granddaughter has arrived.”

“Be prepared for Granddad to make it abundantly clear to you that she’s just the help and there’s to be no fraternizing.”

Westley rolls his eyes. “Come on. He can’t expect us to ignore her all summer. It’d be cruel not to ask her to hang out.”

“Who’s to say she’d even want to hang out?” I watch Ed struggle to lift her giant suitcase, and I get the urge to jog over there to help, but before I have a chance, they’re already heading inside. “Her mom died, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard.”

“I doubt she wants to be here,” I say. Rose Crossing isn’t for everyone. In fact, that’s exactly how my grandfather wanted it to be when he originally purchased this private island. It was meant to be a summer getaway for his wife and two daughters. A place where they could escape a sticky hot Manhattan for three months and unwind and recharge before life started over again in September. But over the years, it became so much more than that. A haven. A heaven. Another world entirely.

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