Tracing Hearts (21 page)

***

The drive from Savannah to Clearwater is about five and a half hours, without traffic, which gives me nothing but time to think. I stare listlessly out the window at the forest whizzing by. The trees are covered in Spanish moss, and the earth is tinted red from the Georgia clay. As we move across the state, I see a subtle change in the landscape. Though the trees are still draped with vegetation, the ground becomes whiter, as I note that sand replaces the clay.

Sebastian hasn’t said much during our trek so far, but it’s fine by me. I need this time to consider my predicament. It’s Tuesday now. The second day I’ll be missed at work. By now, my best friend will’ve gotten concerned and called my dad. He, in turn, has most likely tried my cell phone dozens of times and is probably starting to panic. My heart aches at the thought of my dad pacing day and night. He’s probably worried sick. I hate that I have to put him through this.

“You okay?” Sebastian asks as his hand slides underneath mine. The fingers of his right hand slip in between my fingers and close around them. I look over at him and smile half-heartedly. I like the feel of his hand holding mine. I just wish it could be under different circumstances.

“Yeah, why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You look sort of sad.”

My smile is small and describes my contemplative mood perfectly. I sigh.

“I guess I’m just thinking about what’s going on at home. My dad and sister are most likely afraid for me, and I can’t even contact them to tell them I’m okay. It’s just hard to imagine what they must be feeling.”

I feel his grip on my hand tighten slightly.

“I know how you feel. My mom and brother still think I’m dead, remember?”

I bow my head at the thought of anyone mistakenly believing their child was killed. I suddenly feel a little less sorry for myself as I realize, I’ve only technically been missing for two days. Sebastian’s supposedly been dead for the better part of a year. I look at him feeling a little guilty.

“I’m sorry. I forgot we’re in the same boat,” I say.

“Don't apologize. I know how hard all of this is to take in. Let’s just take it day by day. Like I told you before, it’s only temporary. It’ll all be over soon.” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it gently. A warmth travels up my arm, and settles into my chest and I’m instantly comforted. “Why don’t we change the subject? What names should we pick for our new lives in Florida?”

“We need new names?” I perk up a bit at the notion.

“Well, yes if we want to stay anonymous.”

Oh. This could be fun. I rub my chin in an exaggerated motion.

“How about Fred and Ethel?”

He chuckles. “I think that might be a bit too much into the fifties. How about something classic like Mickey and Minnie?”

“Hmm. That may turn too many heads, especially in Florida,” I say with a giggle, hoping he’s joking.

“I’ve always liked the name Emily.”

“Oh, I like that,” I say, excited he suggested it. “Now, how about yours?”

“You pick,” he says with a smirk.

“Okay. How about Pierre?”

His mouth twists. “I don’t look French.”

“Hmm. Stewart?”

“That reminds me of a mouse,” he says with a sneer.

“Timmy?”

“How old am I?”

“You’re picky,” I say petulantly.

“No, you’re just bad at this,” he rebuts.

I act affronted. “I am not!”

He smiles an all-teeth-showing grin that I know I could never stay mad at.

“I’m kidding. Whatever name you say next is the name I’ll go with. Do your worst.”

I grin at the control he just gave me and think long and hard before I speak.

“Henry.”

“Henry? Why Henry?”

I shrug. “I don't know. It was just the first name that popped into my head.”

“Can I at least use Hank as a nickname?”

I wrinkle my nose.

“I like Henry better.”

“Hank just sounds tougher though,” he says.

“Maybe. I’ll consider your request on one condition.”

“And what might that be?”

“That you stop at the next rest stop and buy me ice cream.”

“Deal.”

I smile at my little victory.

Julia

My neck is stiff from the position it’s been in for what seems like the whole ride. My face is warm as the sun beams down on it. I’m reluctant to open my eyes. The rhythm of the car’s engine hums me into a trance-like state. I smile peacefully to myself. Eventually, I peek through my lashes at the road rushing by my window, only it’s not road, but water. Water for almost as far as the eye can see. I yawn and sit up as to take in my surroundings.

“It’s alive,” Sebastian says in jest while raising his eyebrows in mock horror. He ends his statement with a quiet chuckle. I stretch and rub my aching neck muscles.

“Yes, I am. Was I asleep long?”

He snorts. “You could say that. You missed almost the entire state of Florida.”

“Where are we?” I survey the scenery around us and note, with a bit of awe, that we’re on a very long bridge. “And how long is this bridge?”

“I’m not sure, but it seems to go on forever, doesn’t it?” he says, seemingly just as amazed as I am. Our conversation falls silent as we both stare out at the never ending body of water. “I think this is Tampa Bay.”

When I slide my window down, I’m met with air I could almost chew. The humidity is stifling and the sun’s rays, which were subtle just moments ago, lash out against my body as if trying to consume me. The aroma is that of salty spray from the sea. It’s overwhelming, but not in a bad way. I smile and take in a deep breath.

“I think I’m going to like living here,” I say with my eyes closed and my face in the direct line of the rushing wind.

“Yeah? Why do you say that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. It feels comfortable—like I’ve been here before and I’m coming back home.”

“Well, good. At least Mick didn’t set us up in Alaska.”

I look at him and giggle.

“Yes. That’s a very good thing.”

***

Sebastian pulls into the driveway of a very suburban looking, ranch style house. The pale green, stucco walls inform me we’re not in North Carolina anymore. The clay shingles also tell stories of being region specific. He opens his door and comes to meet me on my side of the car.

“Ready?” he asks. I nod with a grin. We haven’t had much time to stretch our legs, so I stand shakily. He takes my hand and leads me toward the front door. Then placing a key, which must’ve been hidden in his other hand, he inserts it and turns the knob.

The cool, air conditioned climate of the interior is a welcomed sensation, and I’m drawn to it immediately. I take a step forward, when I’m suddenly catapulted into the arms of the man at the other end of my hand.

“Agh! Sebastian!” I screech involuntarily as Sebastian hoists me into a cradle hold.

“Shh! I’m Henry, remember?”

I cover my mouth as soon as he points out my mistake.

“Oops, sorry…um, Henry,” I whisper conspiratorially. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you over the threshold. Mick said it’d be better if we appeared to be married. I had to make it look believable.”

A little place inside me is jumping up and down as if I’d just won the Showcase Showdown on the Price is Right.

“Oh,” I say, trying hard to contain a grin that would love to cover my entire face.

With me in his arms, he steps inside and shuts the door behind us. He places me gently back on my feet and we gaze at each other for a little too long. He suddenly seems to recover his wits and is the first to break our optical hold, though he peeks back and his mouth twists.

“Welcome home,
Emily
,” he says.

“Welcome home,
Henry
,” I reply with a wry smile. “Shall we have a look around?”

“Lead the way Mrs. Smith.”

“Mrs. Smith?” I say with a puzzled expression. “Why Smith?”

“Why not?”

I shrug, noncommittally, then turn my head to look around.

As I stand beside the white walls of the living room, I look across the dining area, past the kitchen, and into the family room, which has an attached sunroom. I imagine myself sitting on the built-in bench seats that ride all along the wall of windows and reading a good book. The floor plan is very open. I step farther into the nicely decorated house and see a modern looking kitchen, complete with a breakfast counter.

I’ve always wanted a breakfast counter!

Turning my head to the left, I see a hallway which most likely leads to bedrooms. I wonder how many there are.

“Not bad,” Sebastian mutters under his breath. I turn to face him.

“You’re not kidding. Mick has good taste,” I say, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in.

“Yeah. Who knew?” he agrees.

I walk toward the sun room, so I can see the back yard a little better.

“I think I’ll go get our bags.” And with that, I hear the front door open then close.

The sunshine lies on the floor of my potential new reading area, like a carpet. The terrazzo floor soaks up the warmth. I kick off my sandals and hug myself. Our new yard is a decent size, with a wooden, dog-eared fence surrounding it. There is no pool, but then, the beach is only a short car ride away. A large tree, of a variety which is unknown to me, shades about half the lawn, and a small garden is off in the opposite corner. I reach down and stroke the soft, cotton pillows of the wrap around seating. The tropical colors remind me of the sea. As I stand back up, I feel warm hands on my shoulders and the close proximity of Sebastian’s body behind me. It startles me at first but then, my blood rushes through me, making me flush. I stand immobile.

“Nice yard too,” he says without removing his hands. His touch sends shock waves down my body.

“Y—yes,” I stutter awkwardly.

He moves to stand beside me, lifting his hands away in the process.

“So, I think we need to get our stories straight—about who we are, and where we came from.” I nod. “We’re Henry and Emily Smith. We just moved here from…” He pauses, I’m guessing to let me finish.

“Detroit, Michigan,” I add. “We were tired of the cold weather and wanted to live closer to the sand and the sun. We just got married six months ago but have known each other since we were…well, twelve.” I smile because that part is actually true.

He smiles broadly too.

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

I just shrug. “Not really, it just seems to be an ordinary story, one that wouldn’t stick out in anyone’s mind.”

“Okay then. That’s our story. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of at the moment. We’ll just play the rest by ear.”

***

After unpacking in our separate rooms, we decide to go for a drive and check out our new city. Like a child at a state fair, we venture outside, excited to find our new favorite places. We’re just about to the car, when we hear a voice.

“Hello! You must be our new neighbors,” the man calls out to us. We freeze instinctively and look at each other.

“Just remember who we are: Emily and Henry,” Sebastian whispers loud enough, so only I can hear him. Then, he turns abruptly and slings his arm across my shoulders. “Hi. Yes, I’m Hank, and this lovely creature is my wife, Emily,” Sebastian says while holding out his hand for the man to shake. Our curious neighbor looks to be about our age. “How are you?”

They shake, I shake, and then the small talk begins.

Keep it straight, Julia…er, I mean, Emily.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” I say, while resuming my place beside Sebastian.

“So, you just moved in, eh? Where are you from originally?” asks the man whose name we find out is Jamie.

“We’re from Detroit,” Sebastian says.

“Wow, big difference in temperature from here. Did you come straight from there?”

“Uh, yeah, pretty much. We got married about six months ago and figured we’d start our new life together in a warmer climate,” Sebastian says, kissing the side of my head gently. I inwardly swoon, and secretly wish it wasn’t just for show.

Soon enough, a woman comes strolling out of Jamie’s house. By the affectionate look on her face, I can only assume she’s his wife. He introduces us to her as such, calling her Shelby. We shake hands with her too and exchange pleasantries. The conversation continues, and the two men talk mostly with each other, while Shelby and I get acquainted. She’s nice enough, but it’s a bit nerve wracking trying to remember our fake facts.

“You should come out with us sometime,” she says, seeming sincere. “I know a great place to go for entertainment.”

“Um, sure. Why not? It sounds like fun.”

“Great!” she clasps her hands together. “It’s a date!”

The two men look over at us simultaneously.

“Shelby, what are you doing? They probably want to chill at their place for a few days before they venture out,” Jamie says, gently scolding his wife.

She clearly blows him off with a wave of her hand and an eye roll.

“No, it’s okay. She was just trying to be friendly. I don’t mind,” I say because it’s the truth. If we’re going to be living next to these two, we might as well make friends with them. And, she seems very likeable. After all, most young couples do things together…don’t they?

“We’ll go Saturday. That’ll give them a couple days to unpack and settle in,” she says before dismissing herself, saying something about her curling iron being left on.

“Well, it was nice to meet another couple our age on this street. We’ll see you Saturday, I guess,” Jamie says shaking Sebastian’s hand again. He walks away with one last wave as Sebastian and I turn toward each other.

“They seem nice enough,” he says as he opens my car door.

“Yes, I think so too.”

We back out of the driveway and head in the direction of dinner.

***

Frenchy’s Rockaway Grill is a restaurant right on the beach, in the heart of a very popular part of town. With its sea green roof and bright yellow canopy, it’s easy to see why people flock there most nights. They feature live, local music and food that looks as though it could be in an art show. We’re seated at our table on the deck, and I marvel at the feeling of eating right on the beach. After giving the waitress our orders, Sebastian and I sip our drinks and enjoy the ocean breeze which winds through our hair.