Page 4 of This Kind of Forever
“I have a list of things I need from the store, but I need to head to Dockside,” she explains. “Can you go for me? You can take my car, if you drop me off first.”
Dockside, the restaurant built into the base of the island’s old lighthouse, is owned by her parents. Clara has worked there since we were in high school, but she’s been managing it for about five years now, and it’s effectively her baby. The only baby she’ll ever have, according to her.
“Of course I can.”
She grins as we both stand up from the couch. Then, never one to pass up the opportunity for a good hug, she throws her arms around me. Settling into the familiar weight, I let out a sigh.
“I’ve missed you, Hallie girl,” she says. “Welcome home.”
I blink back the sting of tears. I want to tell her nothing has felt like home in a long, long time, and coming back here makes me feel like a failure. I want to tell her that I’m homesick for something I fear doesn’t exist anymore, if it ever did.
But I don’t.
The shopping list Clara texted me is a mile long. I know for sure she has enough tampons stocked up to last a year, so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she sent me on this goose chase to keep me out of the apartment for as long as possible.
I can’t blame her, though. Any longer and I’d probably transform into a sad lump of goo on her couch.
It’s hard to admit, but walking through the parking lot of the grocery store with the early September sun beating down on me feels…good. Normal. And I needed that—normal.
But normal promptly goes out the window as soon as I step into the cool embrace of the air conditioning.
I’ve never felt more on display than I do right now. Eyes. So many eyes. Some are strangers simply following a natural inclination to stare at anything new, but some are people I’ve known since I was a kid. If it isn’t already popular knowledge that I’m back, it will be now.
Trying to appear unaffected, I grab a shopping cart and pull up Clara’s list. As I head for the produce section, the storemanager watches me with a curl of his lip. Gordon has never liked me, even back when I worked for him one summer as a cashier. Then again, I’m not sure he likes anyone. What he’s doing in a job that forces him to interact with the public, I’ll never know.
Slowly, as I round up food and household items, I can feel those stares fall away. A melancholic woman shopping for groceries doesn’t make for good gossip fodder, it seems. I’m relieved.
Until I hear someone loudly calling my name.
“Hallie! Hallie Foster!”
When I turn, my cheeks heat at the amount of people looking in my direction now. Leave it to Carole Dramus to draw every ounce of attention in the building.
“I thought that was you!” Carole exclaims with a beaming grin. “I missed you at Delilah’s exhibition the other week.”
The day I got into town, Clara dragged me to Haven House, her childhood home. I hadn’t been there in years, long before her parents turned it into the bed-and-breakfast many tourists now know and love.
That night, half the town was at the house because Clara’s older brother was trying to grand gesture his way back into the good graces of the woman he had fallen for. When Clara told me about Luke’s plan to hold Delilah’s photography exhibition there, I stupidly agreed to go.
That decision came back to bite me when I locked gazes with the one person I’ve been desperate to avoid for the past ten years.
The town, I can…sort ofhandle. Gabriel Bowman? Not so much.
You would think that by now, I wouldn’t care this much. That seeing him wouldn’t send me into a tailspin. But every time I think about him, I think about that day on the beach.
It isn’t like I’ve been totally cut off from him. Over the years, Clara has told me bits and pieces. I know he has a daughter. I know his life has been steadily moving forward in my absence. But sometimes, that just makes it hurt even more.
“Sorry,” I say to Carole. “I was pretty tired from the move. I slipped out early.”
Not atotallie. Just a small, partial one.
She pats my arm. “No bother! But listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Clara mentioned you’re back for the long haul, and I’m looking to cut back on the amount of hours I spend at the gallery. You wouldn’t happen to be looking for some work, would you?”
Ever since my most recent nannying position was made obsolete, I’ve been trying to make a plan. But as far as plans go, I currently have none. With the tourist season on Kip Island winding down soon, the job options are limited. There is more opportunity on the mainland, but taking the ferry to work every day isn’t ideal when I don’t have my own car. I could only borrow Clara’s for so long.
When I smile, it feels like the first genuine one I’ve worn in weeks. Months. “Actually, Carole, that would be great.”
She claps. “Wonderful! It’s unfortunately nothing grand, given the time of year. About fifteen hours a week. Is that alright? I figured I’d ask you first, seeing as you were such a good customer before.”
