Em (The Summer My Life Began Book 1) Read online

  He hands her to me, and I tenderly cradle her in my palms. “I can’t believe your mom made this.” The small fairy feels so fragile as if the slightest movement of my fingers could snap her in half. It makes me nervous to hold her.

  Next, he pulls out another tissue wrapped item, this one slightly bigger. Just as carefully he peels the wrapping away to reveal a blue glass dragon. About double the size of the fairy, the glass dragon is done in various hues of blue to define its features—the body, tail, and the fire coming from its mouth.

  He puts the dragon down, reaching in for another object. Then another, and then another. One by one he unwraps each, taking just as much time and care. The blown-glass pieces range in size from ten inches down to the tiny two-inch fairy. His mom used every color imaginable.

  A wizard, a witch, the dragon, the fairy, a prince, a princess, and several more. “Seems as if your mom liked fairy tales.”

  “She loved them.”

  When he finishes with the last, a unicorn, and sets it next to all the rest, I look over at him. He gently caresses each one, trailing his finger along the smooth glass. The love on his face touches me to my very core.

  I feel sure his mom occupies every corner of his mind right now. I want to ask him what particular memory he’s thinking of. Instead, I hand the fairy back to him. “Thank you for sharing these with me.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Leaning across the small distance, he gives me a tender kiss before pulling back. “Any interest in seeing some pictures of her?”

  “Definitely.”

  He nods behind me. “Blue-and-white box.”

  As he rewraps the blown glass figurines, I move Tilly’s dresses aside, easily finding the blue-and-white box. I look around for the FAMILY PICS album but don’t see it.

  “Find it?” Cade asks.

  “Yes.” I help him rewrap the last of the figurines and we carefully repack them.

  What would I keep and cherish of my mother’s if she died? Her fancy furniture? Her expensive silverware? Her designer clothes? I can’t think of anything I’d treasure the way Cade does his mom’s glass art. The realization saddens me.

  Now, Aunt Tilly, I can think of a handful of things I’d hold close to my heart: the plumed pen she uses in her office, the thin bracelets she always wears, the ivory comb that sits on her dresser, and lots more.

  I’ve known her for less than a month. Strange to think how much closer I feel to her than to my own mother.

  Cade takes the blue-and-white box and pulls the lid off. Inside lay photos. Some black-and-white, others color. Small ones, big ones. The majority with worn edges.

  He brings out a handful, showing me the one on top of a red-haired woman hugging a small boy. With matching grins, they cheese it for the camera. “Me and Mom.”

  I study the photo of the young woman with the windblown hair and a very cute little Cade. I recognize the backdrop as the front of The Pepper House. “She’s very pretty.”

  “Thanks.” He shows me another one. “The three of us.”

  In this one, Sid, Cade, and his mom cuddle together on Sid’s sailboat. A family with lots of love. Cade can’t be more than two. Sid looks different. Younger. Healthier. Happier.

  “That was right before Sid did one of his famous disappearing acts,” Cade says. “He took his boat out and just didn’t come back for a month.”

  “I’m sorry.” I hate that his father does that to him.

  With a shrug, he shows me another photo, making it clear he really doesn’t want to talk about Sid. This photo is of him and another boy I now know is Levy. “You two go way back.”

  “He’s my oldest friend. I think there’s even a picture of us bathing together when we were two or so.”

  “Aw.”

  “Anyway.” He shows me picture after picture, mostly of him and his mom. Snapshots taken all over Anna Island. A few have Aunt Tilly in them and a dark-haired man I now know is Frederick’s father. There are some with Sid, but very few. It makes me sad for the childhood Cade never had with his dad.

  He gives me one last photo to look at before getting up. “Be right back.”

  Nodding, I watch him leave Aunt Tilly’s room. A few seconds later his footsteps hit the back stairs as he trots down to the main floor. I give the picture a quick glance where a small Cade holds a conch shell.

  Smiling at his sweet, innocent face, I organize the photos, neatly putting them into stacks.

  As I wait on Cade to return, I glance up to the top shelf where the FAMILY PICS album was. It’s gone, presumably tucked away by my aunt. Frederick said there were other albums, though…

  Before I know it, I’m up and moving things around.

  Under a blanket, I locate several worn binders and pull them all out. Quickly, I thumb through one with mostly pictures of Frederick. I leaf through another, this one with scenic shots of travel. I open the last and a black-and-white photo of a young Tilly with my mom stares back at me. My heart skips as I turn the page to an old photo of my grandmother and grandfather.

  I flip another page to a photo of a young-looking Tilly sitting propped up in a hospital bed holding a tiny infant. Frederick, maybe? With a tear-streaked face, she tries her best to smile for the camera, but they aren’t tears of joy.

  I look at the date stamped on the bottom corner and do a quick calculation to eighteen, nearly nineteen years ago. No, that baby can’t be Frederick. I look at the date stamp again and my breath catches.

  My birthday.

  “Em?” Aunt Tilly stands in the doorway of her bedroom, staring straight across to me in her closet. “Cade said you two were looking through his family pictures?”

  I hold the album up. “Is this you?” I look at it again. Maybe the young girl is my mom and I just thought it was Aunt Tilly. They do look a lot alike.

  She doesn’t answer me.

  “Aunt Tilly?”

  She takes a few hesitant steps toward me. “Yes. Yes, it’s me.”

  “Who is this baby?” I ask though way down deep I already know.

  Aunt Tilly takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.

  “Tilly?”

  “It’s you,” she softly replies.

  My gaze zeroes in on the baby. “Why are you in a hospital gown?”

  Her eyes tear up. “Because.” She clears her throat. “Because that’s the day I delivered you.”

  I keep staring at the baby, trying to process her words but unable to fully wrap my brain around them.

  Numbness settles through my limbs. The picture blurs. I squeeze my eyes shut. Like if I don’t see it, then it isn’t real.

  The day she delivered me?

  My heart thuds hard in my chest. My breathing stops. My jaw clenches.

  “Em?” her voice comes quietly.

  I force my lids to open.

  Cade reenters the bedroom. “Did ya miss m—” His voice cuts away as he looks between us. “What’s going on?”

  I hold the photo up. “The. Day. You. Delivered. Me?”

  “Yes.” Aunt Tilly’s throat rolls on a swallow.

  I swing my gaze to Cade. “Did you know about this?”

  Cade looks between us again. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Can you give us some privacy?” Tilly asks, her eyes not leaving mine.

  He doesn’t say a word, just nods and closes the door.

  Aunt Tilly comes closer. “I was fifteen when I got pregnant. Sixteen when I had you. I was scared. It was an accident. I convinced myself that the boy who got me pregnant loved me. I thought we were going to get married or live together or something. I thought we were going to raise you together. But your grandmother was so angry, so ashamed, she kicked me out of the house. I had nowhere to go. I was living with the boy for a while, but a week before I gave birth he left, and I never heard from him again.”

  I try to listen to her words, but I can’t focus. She’s speaking too fast. I have nothing to hold on to, emotionally or physically, but the photo.
<
br />   She continues, “I went back to your grandmother, begged her to let me stay until you were born. I promised I would leave right after. Your mom had everything. The husband, the house, the stability—the perfect life. She wanted children, but they were having trouble conceiving. Of course, later your sister showed up unexpectedly.”

  Your mom, I latch on to that phrase. My mom isn’t really my mom. This woman in front of me, my aunt Tilly, is really my mom.

  “I didn’t know how I’d provide for you. Where I’d live. Your grandmother told me the state would take you away from me because of my situation. I was young. I didn’t know. But she was probably right anyway. I wasn’t fit to mother you.” Aunt Tilly takes another step closer. “Please don’t think badly of your grandmother. She was only acting out of love.”

  Grandmother rarely does anything out of love. Especially not if it might tarnish her image.

  “She told me if I gave you to Katherine that she’d raise you like her own. No one would know. You’d have the best of everything—more than I could have or ever would have been able to give. I was defiant. Thought I could do it anyway. But the day you were born and I held you in my arms, I knew I had to. I didn’t want anything to happen to you. As hard as it was, I knew that giving you up was the best thing for you.”

  My pulse pounds in my neck, my fingertips, my head, my ears. But I focus hard on her words.

  “Your grandmother had her lawyers draw up the paperwork. The agreement was that if I signed custody over to Katherine, they’d raise you with the best of everything, and I would never show my face again. Your grandmother told me she’d send me anywhere I wanted to go—one-way ticket. I picked this island because it happened to be on the news that day. Soon after, Katherine got a job at the hospital; your dad had just been promoted. You, your parents, and grandmother moved on and no one knew differently.”

  Aunt Tilly stops talking then, and the first thing out of my mouth is, “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  She presses her palms against her chest. “I don’t know, Em. God knows I wanted to. But I just didn’t know. I didn’t know what kind of person you were. How you’d handle it. If we’d hit it off. There are a lot of things involved with something so huge. Plus I’d promised your grandmother and mother I wouldn’t. That was the only way they’d let you come visit me this summer.”

  A million questions bounce around in my brain. I try to pick another to ask, but none come to mind.

  Tears fill Tilly’s eyes. “Say something,” she whispers.

  Still in the closet, I stare at her. Shouldn’t I be the one crying right now? I open my mouth. I close it. I open it again. I shake my head.

  But before I can articulate the jumbled thoughts in my brain, she bursts into sobs and flees the room.

  Chapter 33

  I don’t know how long I sit here in Aunt Tilly’s closet. I don’t remember getting up and walking downstairs, or leaving The Pepper House. I must have made my way to the beach because by the time I realize where I am, dusk settles in and I walk along the shoreline.

  Hours pass in a sort of daze as I think and rethink conversations Aunt Tilly and I have had. All the cryptic statements and questions that she, my mom, and grandmother have said to me.

  Has . . . Matilda told you anything about our family? Mom asked.

  When I was sixteen, I got in trouble, Aunt Tilly admitted.

  Matilda’s told you, hasn’t she? Grandmother demanded.

  To think I thought their quarrel had nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with me. I’m the reason behind their feud.

  With a sigh, I glance up and realize I now stand on the beach where Cade and I surfed. I sit down next to a sand dune and pick a sea oat from the ground. I try to put myself in Aunt Tilly’s place—young, pregnant, being threatened by Grandmother, being dumped by the father of my child. I can’t even imagine.

  More of Aunt Tilly’s words float through my mind . . .

  I never did like living in your grandmother’s house. Too many rules. Too much formality. Too much everything. I was always rebellious, sneaking out, purposefully doing things to make her angry. I look back on that now and am certainly not proud of my behavior.

  Purposefully doing things to make Grandmother angry? Did Aunt Tilly get pregnant on purpose? I can’t imagine that, but maybe I don’t know Aunt Tilly after all.

  When I was sixteen, I got in trouble. So she considers me trouble? I thought pregnancies are supposed to be blessings.

  Blessings? Please. If I got pregnant right now I wouldn’t think of it as a blessing. I’d freak out. “Blessings” are for people who want kids and have been trying.

  Right? So that makes my sister a blessing to my parents. And me? Something they had to take on because of Grandmother’s request. Because they couldn’t have children and thought raising me would be their last hope.

  Well, lucky for them my sister came along because I certainly didn’t turn out to be the perfect daughter they wanted.

  I shut my eyes, more than irritated with myself and the direction my thoughts head. The last thing I need is to pick apart my insecurities. The fact is, as daughters go, I’m a pretty darn good one. I’m sick and tired of not only doubting that but trying to prove it.

  My eyes open and I take a deep breath. Now I just need to figure out how to handle all this new information in my life.

  “Em?”

  I glance up. Cade stands a careful distance away, clearly not sure if he should approach. I smile a little and he takes that as his cue to come closer. Sitting down behind me, he pulls me into his arms.

  I don’t know what it is—his smell, his warmth, my tired brain, my spinning thoughts, or the emotional roller coaster—but tears well up and flow over. I don’t stop them. I cry about my life, Aunt Tilly, memories, the situation, my family back in New England, what I’m going to do, what I’m not going to do. I cry tears that quite possibly have been in me for a while. Uncontrollable tears and I freely let them come.

  Cade doesn’t say anything, just holds me.

  Sometime later, the tears slow and eventually stop. With a sniffle, I wipe my eyes with my shirt. I don’t care how I look—red eyes, snotty nose, and all—I curl into Cade’s chest and he continues holding me, caressing my hair.

  Closing my eyes, I concentrate on his even breathing. Once I feel calm enough, I tell him everything. He listens quietly, which is exactly what I need. I don’t want advice, just someone with an open ear.

  We stay that way, him holding me, lapsing into silence. I don’t know how much time has passed when Cade finally gets up and pulls me to my feet. Holding my hand, he leads me from the beach and out onto the road where his moped sits.

  “Do you want to come to my place?” he quietly asks.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  ~*~

  I awake the next morning snuggled in Cade’s futon bed. A sweet scent drifts through my senses and I open one eye. Cade waves a sugary doughnut back and forth in front of my face. A lemon-glazed doughnut to be exact.

  Reaching one hand out of the blankets, I snatch it away and take a big bite. I don’t think a doughnut has ever tasted so good.

  He produces coffee next.

  I sit up and take that, too. “You’re pretty handy to have around.” I enjoy a sweet sip of white-chocolate mocha.

  Giving me one of his sexy half-smiles, he leans down and delivers a quick kiss to my lips. “Are you going to be okay? I’ve gotta go to work.” He stands. “See you there?”

  I take another sip, rolling that question around. By work, he means The Pepper House, of course. Am I ready to face Aunt Tilly?

  No.

  Frederick. My brother. Holy cow. In all that’s happened since yesterday, somehow I overlooked that enormous detail.

  I have a brother.

  “On second thought, why don’t you hang out here,” Cade says, saving me from making a decision. “I’ll let everyone know where you are.”

  Relief sighs through me. “Thank
s. That sounds good.”

  After he leaves the apartment, I sit here for a few minutes, listening to the quiet, sipping my coffee.

  I have a birth father out there somewhere.

  And Gwenny, cousin by blood, sister by heart. What will she do when she finds out?

  Everything I believed to be true, isn’t.

  Where do I go from here? I don’t know. Will Aunt Tilly want to keep it a secret? I’m not sure I can do that. I’ve never been a good liar.

  I give my head a little shake. No, I’m not doing this today. Emotionally, I need a break. I need to think about something else.

  Throwing the covers aside, I pad into Cade’s bathroom where I take a long and hot shower. I emerge smelling like his boy scented stuff. After rifling through his closet, I find a T-shirt and board shorts that almost fit me.

  Next, I nosy around in his kitchen, pleased to find it not as barren as I imagined. I scramble up eggs and brew coffee. I strip the sheets and fold the futon back into a sofa. I sweep his hardwood floor. I dust. I wipe down his counters. I do a once-over in his bathroom. Then I study his living area. A bouquet of flowers there, a tall light here, move the couch . . .

  With a sigh, I look at the rag in my hand. I wish his place was bigger so I have more to clean.

  I could work out. Maybe do some yoga.

  How long can I hide out here?

  The door opens and Cade walks in. He inhales the fresh scent as his gaze takes in everything I’ve done. “You cleaned.”

  I give a sheepish shrug. “I was bored and trying not to think.”

  “You cooked, too.”

  “Eggs. Coffee.”

  He gives his clothes on me a glance. “Cute.”

  “Go okay at The Pepper House?”

  Cade nods. “Tilly said to take as much time as you need. She was just glad to know you’re safe.”

  Aunt Tilly knows I need time. She knows I’m safe with Cade. My real mom knows me. My mother, on the other hand, would have launched an all-out search party for me.

  Both are acts of love, just different.

  Cade walks toward me. “I came back because I was worried about you. And I need to tell you something.”