The Summer of Lost Wishes (20 page)

“And everyone lived blissfully unaware until
Charlotte Davenport bought the Calloway Cottage,” I say out loud.
“You were afraid we’d unravel your secret.”

“That’s why I broke your window,” he
says.

“You can have your letters back,” I tell
him. If I’d known it was actually Seth looking for Seth’s letters,
I would’ve given them back in a heartbeat.

Mac shakes his head. “I don’t need them
now,” he says. “You keep them. They’re part of the Calloway
Cottage. That’s why I volunteered to help with the renovations. I
knew I shouldn’t have broken in. I never meant to scare you. I just
couldn’t let you pull me under like the rest of them.”

For the first time tonight, Rooks cracks up.
“If anyone has had your back through this, it’s Piper,” he says. “I
was the one who suspected foul play. But Piper? Never. The only
arguments we’ve ever had were about your innocence.”

Mac smiles and clamps a hand down on my
shoulder. “Thank you,” he says. “But now I have to ask for your
silence. Coral Sands needs to believe that Seth McIntosh died that
night, and in a way, he did. I’m not that seventeen-year-old boy
anymore, but I’m okay with letting that version of me go. I feel
like now, he can finally rest in peace. He’s finally told his
story. He and I both can let go and move on.”

There’s no hesitation. Rooks and I both
instantly agree to keep his secret. It’s ironic how my summer has
been about unraveling the mystery of the Shark Island tragedy, and
here it is, in a big pile of yarn, completely unraveled and
standing before me. And all I want to do is wind it back up into a
nice little ball of mystery. No one needs to know what’s on the
inside. That’s for Rooks, Mac, and me.

“I’m sorry you had to wait fifty years to
tell us this story,” I say, trying to fathom the weight of that
secret for so long.

Mac shrugs. “Well, I had to wait for you
guys to be born. It all worked out,” he says, with a hint of a
smile. “I better get you guys home before this storm kicks back in.
She knows what time of the year it is. It’s just her friendly
reminder.”

Rooks stands and grabs his wet jacket off
the chair. “Thank you for coming after us tonight,” he says. “You
literally saved our lives.”

“I couldn’t save them,” Mac says, “but I
knew I couldn’t make that same mistake twice. There is no need for
thanks, Mr. Carter. I would’ve saved them if it’d been possible
that night.”

I remain wrapped in the blanket on the drive
back over to our houses. It’s surreal that Seth McIntosh is
actually driving me home – to the Calloway Cottage – nearly fifty
years to the date that he died.

“Your mom is probably spazzing,” Rooks says,
looking ahead through the windshield. “When she got home and you
weren’t back, you know she freaked. She’s probably blowing up your
cell phone. My dad’s doing the same.”

My cell phone is in the glove compartment of
Rooks’ truck, along with my purse and the letters and my flamingo
mask. Hopefully this storm won’t tear away that hidden key. I don’t
think we could’ve been any more reckless and stupid than we were
tonight, but I’m grateful for it. I’m honestly grateful that I’m
one of those dumb teens who made a dumb mistake. All roads led to
Shark Island, and Shark Island solved the mystery.

“Oh God,” I say, remembering the one piece
of the puzzle we’ve been forgetting all night. “Hector. He wanted
us dead. He left us there for a reason.”

Mac slows down before turning onto our
street. “Why did he do it?” he asks.

“He knows something about Ms. Rosa,” Rooks
says from beside me. “I think maybe he knows that she had a
relationship with you. He thought we were going to tell everyone,
even though we never would have. We wanted to protect her as much
as you did.”

Mac smiles in the dim glow of the
streetlights. “Well, Mr. Reyes wasn’t counting on Seth McIntosh
showing up and finding redemption,” he says. “He’ll figure out soon
enough that you guys made it out. Then he can see what it’s like to
live in constant paranoia for a while.”

Mac turns onto the street and pulls into my
driveway. Mom and Mr. Carter stand on the front porch. Mom has her
phone in her hand and an expression of worry on her face.

“Oh, thank God! Where have you been?” she
asks, rushing toward me when I step out of Mac’s truck. She hugs me
tightly. “You’re soaked. What happened?”

“The party sucked,” Rooks says. “So we went
to the beach. We got caught in the storm, but Mac saw my truck and
pulled in to see if we were okay.”

“My apologies,” Mac says, stepping toward my
mom. “I should have called, but I’m still of the landline era, and
my electricity and phone lines are both down right now. I took them
back to my house because I didn’t know how bad this storm was going
to get.”

I didn’t expect the lies to flow so easily.
Rooks says we left our phones in his truck. Mac says his house was
closer, so we sought refuge until it blew over. Mom and Mr. Carter
are both just thankful we’re safe and that Mac was watching out for
us.

“Well, we’ll get the truck tomorrow,” Mr.
Carter says. “All that matters is that you kids are here, you’re
safe, and everything is okay.”

And even though I look like a drowned
flamingo, I know that Mr. Carter is right – everything is okay
now.

“Cell phone. Purse. Mask,” Rooks says,
handing me each item one by one. “I was lucky as hell that storm
didn’t wash my key away. I would’ve had to get Mac to break another
window.”

I nudge him with my elbow, but he doesn’t
care. He grasps me in a tight hug and squeezes me. My hair is still
a mess from last night’s storm, and I haven’t bothered to wash off
the remnants of my flamingo makeup. In a way, I don’t want to. I
want last night to last a little longer.

“So, I have good news,” Rooks says, stepping
back to he can face me. “My dad talked to my mom about how I’ve
found such a good influence here, and he thinks I’d benefit a lot
from sticking around.”

My heart does a happy dance in my chest
cavity before he even finishes telling me that he’s staying. Last
night’s storm washed away all of my lost wishes, leaving me with
nothing but sparkling fallen stars. I feel like they’re glowing
around me, everywhere I turn. As crazy as it is, Shark Island has
given me a second chance, one that I’m ready to actually take.

“It’s official then?” I ask. “You’re really
staying in Coral Sands, next door to me?”

“Official,” he says, wrapping his arms
around my waist. “Now we’ll both get to be Coral Sands Stingrays,
and you’ll be obligated to come to all of my baseball games. It’s
mandatory if you’re going to be my girlfriend.”

“Oh, we’re making rules now?” I ask, pulling
away. “In that case, as my boyfriend, you must defend Seth
McIntosh’s honor when these crazy townsfolk start with the
conspiracy theories. You know, since your girlfriend lives in what
would’ve been his house.”

“Deal,” Rooks says, leaning in and kissing
me before I can stop him. “Speaking of Seth, we have a candlelight
vigil to go to. For Hanna, Eileen, Warren, and Raymond,
anyway.”

In a sense, I feel like I knew them. Even
though I’ve spent weeks with Seth and Rosa and their secret
relationship, I see how much the other four people were as much as
part of the puzzle. Knowing what their last moments were like,
watching their deaths play out through Mac’s memories, makes me
feel connected to them. They didn’t survive Shark Island, but they
shouldn’t be associated with it forever. I just wish people knew
the little things, like how Warren died trying to save Hanna or
that Eileen was only there that night to comfort her best friend.
That’s how I want to remember them.

The crowds on the beach are overwhelming.
Everyone stands with plastic cups holding long-stemmed candles and
small bowls with tea light candles. I’m surprised Coral Sands has
done this for fifty years without setting the beach on fire.

Mayor Rhodes takes to a podium, thanking
everyone for coming out tonight. She talks about last night’s
celebration of life and how honored she is that so many people came
out to enjoy a night of company, memories, and festivity.

“On behalf of the Baker family, it means so
much to all of us that this town helps keep these children alive,
half a century later,” she says, her voice cracking at the word
‘alive.’ “So many people have been touched by the lives of Eileen,
Warren, Raymond, Hanna, and Seth. It warms my heart to see new
generations honoring their memories.”

I slip my hand into Rooks’ hand and nod
toward the parking lot. I wanted to be respectful, but I feel that
standing here listening to a half-baked speech from a woman who
never met any of them just isn’t the way to do it.

“Let’s go somewhere,” I whisper.

“Where?” Rooks asks.

I shrug. “The Crane Pavilion?” I suggest.
“Somewhere that’s symbolic of this summer. I can’t think of a
better place than there.”

We ease to the back of the crowd, trying not
to be too much of a distraction as we slip away. I catch Natalie at
a glimpse, holding hands with Hector near the podium. He doesn’t
look our way, and I’m okay with that. Eventually, he’ll see that we
survived, and like Mac said, he’ll have to live with that paranoia
on his own.

The streets are empty, aside from bouquets
of flowers left along the sidewalks. I think Hanna would’ve liked
them. They’re fitting for the memory of a small town princess.

A few teenagers are engaged in a volleyball
game when we arrive at the beach. A mom builds a sandcastle with
her little girl. In the water, a boy teaches his friend how to use
a boogie board. Life slowly moves along, continuing on in the wake
of last night’s storm and today’s vigil.

The docks hum with workers hauling in fish
for the boom in business they’re about to receive after the crowd
disperses later tonight.

“And just like that, everything goes back to
normal,” Rooks says as we stroll onto the sand. “Tomorrow will be a
new day, deciding how to go even bigger next year for the
celebration of life party. It’s like the day after Christmas,
already thinking toward next year.”

I grasp his hand in mine and lean against
his arm as we walk down the beach toward the Crane Pavilion. I’m so
thankful I don’t have to say goodbye to him. This Shark Island
story actually does get to have its happy ending.

We talk about the upcoming school year and
how easily persuaded his mom was to let him stay with his dad. My
mom is even happy about it. She’ll never admit it to me, but I
think she’s grown to like the boy next door.

“Piper,” Rooks says, nodding toward the
pavilion in the distance. “I don’t think we should go. It’s sacred
ground today.”

I lean forward on my tip toes to see what he
means, but it’s as clear as the bright moon last night before the
storm. Rosa sits on the steps of the Crane Pavilion, away from the
crowds with their candles. I bet she comes here every year. This
was the last place where she was truly connected to him. She was
returning the letters.

I turn around to walk back to Rooks’ truck
when a loud thud catches my attention. Rooks and I look back at
simultaneously. There’s another loud whack, coming from near the
Crane Pavilion.

And we realize Rosa isn’t alone. Frank
doesn’t bother her, and she doesn’t bother him. Maybe they have an
agreement. He slams his ax into another piece of rotting wood and
drags the broken pieces aside.

“I told you he wasn’t a serial killer,”
Rooks says with an accomplished smile.

“You know what? I’m not even going to argue
on this one,” I surrender.

Secretly, I’m glad Frank has the Crane
Pavilion. He may always be the creepy fisherman in my mind, but
he’s also Warren’s brother, and that makes him okay by
association.

“Let’s just leave them to it,” I say.

Rooks takes my hand, and we continue forth,
allowing Frank and Rosa to mourn in peace.

“Okay, keep them closed,” Mom says as Rooks
leads me down the hallway.

Our big open house is tomorrow, and Mom is a
bundle of nerves and excitement. But this surprise in my bedroom
has me worried. When Rooks came over at nine o’clock this morning
and Mom demanded that I stay downstairs while they worked on my
bedroom, I knew something was up.

I’m still not completely onboard with this
big unveiling of our house. It’s hypocritical. I can’t even deny
that. It goes against everything I want to stand for. I don’t want
to profit from the gimmick of the Shark Island tragedy. But at the
same time, we’re shedding the old skin of this home and giving it
new life.

This house isn’t a house of lost wishes.
It’s no longer a symbol of two lives lost. It’s a fresh start for
me, for my mom, and for the Carters. The Calloway Cottage brought
us all together. Mac even gave his blessing. Even if Coral Sands
never knows the truth, Mac’s secret is free now, in a way, and it’s
still safe. There’s a glow of light and hope in this house that
wasn’t there before. We managed to catch all of the falling
stars.

“Alright,” Mom says, as Rooks turns me in a
different direction. “Surprise!”

I open my eyes to the most awesome wall
décor I’ve ever seen. Delilah and Oliver should be jealous. She
stands out like a rare diamond against the blue closet wall. She’s
nailed in just above where we found the letters.

“Where did you get her?” I ask, rushing over
to the wall to touch her and see that she’s actually real.

Feathers sprout from the wall, covering the
body of the faux flamingo. Her neck stretches upward, soft and
pink, like crushed velvet. She has a necklace sewn onto her long
neck. The charm is a message in a bottle. A cute little tiara sits
atop her head. She’s Florida royalty.