Page 53 of Halstead House

“I’m so sorry, everyone,” I said in a louder voice. “I didn’t mean to ruin the fun. We can keep going.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Grace,” Marshall said from where he still stood nearby. “We were getting ready to head back anyway.”

It was kind of him, but I knew the truth. I had done this by not speaking up. I didn’t know how I could have avoided it, though. I’d have either ruined it in the kitchen this morning, or on the boat tonight. It had been a no-win situation for me. The worst part of it all was seeing Lucas’s face. I’d ruined it for my boss. If he fired me, Eliza wasn’t here to stop it and I’d have no reason to stay on the island anymore. I hadn’t been able to act the part tonight, and it may have ruined more than just a harbor cruise. Heavy, mournful tears threatened. I refused them. I’d caused enough of a scene for one lifetime.

The cruise back to the pier had lost its festive spirit. My friends tried to bring it back by chatting with each other and joking around, but I could read a room. I’d been reading rooms since I was four years old. In all honesty, I did believe them that they weren’t upset with me. I knew I wouldn’t have been upset with any of them. No, the problem was that we all knew Lucas was upset, and nothing could be done to change that.

As the pier came into sight, I began to feel angry with the hopeless situation. I hadn’t meant to ruin anything. In fact, the worst I could be accused of was trying to be a team player. I was afraid of boats, but I’d come along in order to make everyone happy.

I had intended to apologize to Lucas privately later, but now I had doubts about that. What did I need to be sorry for? Making people uncomfortable? Possibly. But why did it always have to be me who apologized? Hadn’t I been made to feel uncomfortable by the fact that I’d felt pressured to come along?

The boat gently bumped against the dock, and I sprang to my feet. No one argued about me being the first off. While I’d come on timidly, I leaped off onto the dock with no support and raced up to the parking lot. Ana’s shorter legs couldn’t keep up, and she was breathing hard by the time we arrived at her car. Chef Lou was nowhere to be seen, and I figured he was smart enough to get a ride back with someone else.

“You okay?” Ana asked breathlessly.

“Not all of this was my fault and I won’t apologize for it,” I stated.

She blinked. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but it might be one of those things that you sleep on.”

I nodded stiffly, unwilling to argue with her over nothing.

The drive home was silent, and it gave me time to fume. I couldn’t pin down what I was feeling. Ashamed, embarrassed, sad over letting my friends down. Anger, irritation, and frustration over feeling like I’d had no choice in yet another situation I hadn’t wanted to be in. Disappointed in myself for having a meltdown in front of everyone. That image was now the only one those people—some of them total strangers—would have of me. All those emotions boiled inside of me until I thought I’d burst with the nastiness of it all.

Underneath all of this sensation was confusion. I couldn’t recall ever feeling so jumbled up. I’d learned to live life in a way where I experienced emotion, but I never released it. I’d learned long ago that expressing those feeling got me nowhere. I was the master of pushing it all back down until I was calm and untouchable once more. I was ice.

In this island sun the ice had cracked. I knew better than to spread blame, but in that moment I blamed all of them. Eliza for hiring me and showering me with affection, Ana for her therapy sessions and being my first friend, Marshall for comparing me to his beloved granny. The list went on and on. They were undoing a lifetime of hiding.

I had to put myself back together. I would have to return to Providence soon, and I wouldn’t survive it without my invincible shell.

Ana parked behind the carriage house, and I thanked her for the ride before heading straight past the house to the beach. It seemed ironic to be going back to the water, but I needed to breathe, deeply. I needed the cool air on my heated skin. I needed to cry a little too. Then I needed to figure out how to move forward. Maybe I’d pushed myself too far, too soon, and needed a tactical retreat. Maybe, although it tore me up to even think it, just maybe, I was better off in my shell.

I reached the steps to the sand quickly and hurried down, once again tossing my shoes next to the stairs as I made my way to the water. This time my intention wasn’t to walk, but to be still. I stood facing the gulf and let the warm water lap at my feet as the sky finished its transition into dark. I sat on the damp sand and finally let the tears free. So many years of them. I imagined the ocean sucking them away as they fell.

I sat alone on the beach long enough to have no idea what time it was. The sky had been fully dark for a while when I heard someone approaching. I knew it was him before he spoke. I didn’t bother to turn, and he came to stand next to me.

I heard him take a deep breath, as though he already hated this conversation, before he said, “I’m still trying to understand why you lied to me today.” At least he sounded more disappointed than angry.

I already hated this conversation too. “I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

Now it was my turn to release a sigh. “No, not really. My only choice was to ruin the trip before we went, or ruin the trip while we were there. No matter that I did, I was going to ruin it somehow.”

Lucas didn’t reply, and long moments passed while I counted waves and breathed with them, in and out. He continued to stand next to me.

When he finally spoke, it was said quietly, like a secret not to be shared out loud. “I’ve had enough of people telling me what they think I want to hear. Enough to last two lifetimes.”

To my surprise, I felt words slipping out in the same soft tones. “I’ve had enough of people telling me I have a choice, when what they really expect is that I’ll do what they want me to do.”

“I wasn’t strong-arming you into doing something, Grace,” he replied. “I was trying to offer a fun activity, not force you to face your deepest fear. I honestly had no idea it would be a problem.”

“I understand that, but from my point of view, my boss had arranged something fun and all my friends were excited. It was a work group activity, and I sincerely doubt you would have been happy about it if I’d refused to come along,” I dared to say. Then I dared a little more. “Bosses don’t get to pout, by the way, when things don’t go their way.”

He took a slight step back, his eyes flying down to look at me, as though my words had actually touched him. “You think I was pouting?”

“It felt that way. You’d been friendly up to that point, and then suddenly you were standing by the pilot house talking to no one. The trip didn’t have to be ruined. If you’d have just laughed it off, the others would have followed your guidance.”

“I was not in a mood. Honestly, Grace.” He pursed his lips as he looked away for a moment. “I had no idea how to act or how to feel, so I did nothing. Would it have been better if I’d laughed off your very public panic attack?” I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely asking, or if sarcasm had entered the conversation.

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