Page 89 of Unfinished Summer

We head out through the separate entrance rather than through the shop and take the shortest journey by car up the road to my door.

“Thank you for today. I can’t tell you how much I needed this.” It was the truth.

“I’m just glad we’re finally on the same page. Fancy breakfast tomorrow at Molly’s?”

“Sure. Say ten?”

“It’s a date.” He leans over to kiss me, and I get that giddy feeling I used to get when we were teenagers.

It has been a huge day.

And here, at the end of it, I’m still hopeful for what tomorrow will bring.

As the sunny days link one after the other, it’s hard not to think about summer. And when I think of summer, I think about Jayce.

For the past few weeks, things have been going so well between us. We’re both trying, but it feels like there’s one last thing I need to lay to rest. I just don’t know how he’ll feel about it.

“Jayce, fancy going for a walk after work?”

“Sure. Then dinner?”

“Maybe. Can we see how we feel?” The thought of being out in public after what I have planned doesn’t sit well. And, I don’t want to talk to Jayce beforehand because … well, I didn’t want to build the pressure of what this is.

We haven’t mentioned the past since my breakdown on the beach. We both know the story, and it’s out in the open, except now, I feel I owe him more, and this is the only way I can make amends.

We plan to meet at Molly’s, and then I’ll take him to what I used to call our spot.

It’s a beautiful day, and after dealing with appointments and emails for the glamping pod project, I make my way down to Molly’s. Trepidation swarms in my stomach and makes me uneasy, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t run from your past.

“Hey, beautiful.” Jayce is on the decking outside, waiting with a coffee in his hand. His baseball cap with the surf shop logo is keeping his surf-swept hair from his face, and for a moment, I simply appreciate him.

“Hey. Thank you.” I take the coffee.

“Want to enlighten me?” His arm lands on my shoulders and pulls me closer to him.

“I thought we could walk up the headland. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

“Great.”

We amble along, but the conversation stills. I run over the words I want to say. Or at least want to share. My heart races despite my steady breathing.

As we walk up the path, I notice how the ground has eroded and the same paths have shifted, but as we approach the spot, I know what I need to do.

Mum still had the collapsible shovel in the garden shed, and I pull it from my bag and put it on the ground as I sit.

“Are we digging for treasure?” Jayce gives me a quizzical look.

“In a way.” I look out over Tregethworth and remember how I felt marching up here that night.

A lifetime ago.

A lifetime of memories.

“After you left. After the pregnancy, I changed.” Jayce looks about to interrupt, but I hold my hand up. “No, I need to get some of this out, or I never will.”

He nods.

“Right, well, you leaving, the visit to the hospital, the postcards, it all drowned me. I drowned in grief over losing everything. And I made a vow to myself not to let it define me. You made me weak, and I couldn’t stand that. That’s why I was so angry when you first came back. You reminded me of that weakness. Even if that doesn’t make any sense.” I hug my knees to my chest and close my eyes, basking in the evening sun. “This is where I came to put all of that behind me, to move forward, but I had no concept how. So I did something quite literal.” I pick up the little shovel and look for the craggy rock that marks the spot. I shove the spade head into the wiry grass and cut it away, digging about until I find an edge of fabric. Once I’ve hit the spot, I continue brushing dirt away to see what’s left.

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