Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
15
JOHN
Micah holds the urn over the side of the boat. “Thanks, Grandpa, for providing me a safe place to live. For being an example of hard work and discipline. You taught me a lot.”
Micah anchored the boat beyond the break wall because Rosie gets seasick. She took a motion illness pill just in case, but looking at her now, with unshed tears in her eyes as she grips the handrail and sways along with the whitecaps, I can’t tell if she’s emotional or about to puke.
Grandpa Malone made it clear he did not want a public service, and I have to believe he’d be content with this small, quiet display of commiseration.
“I’m sorry for all the stupid mistakes I made after you took me in. I’m a better person because of you, and I’m trying to make you proud.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. I think back to Micah admitting that LA is not all it’s cracked up to be, and I wonder if making his grandfather proud is another reason he’s hung in there so long. Like he’s trying to make it up to him—the cheating and trouble and disappointment he brought him.
Micah meets Rosie’s gaze. “Anything to add?”
She shakes her head. Anything she has to say to her former employer and friend is in silent prayer as she grips her cross necklace.
I utter my own thank-you to Grandpa Malone for bringing Micah into my life.
He takes a deep breath. “Okay, then. Ready?”
Rosie places her hand on the urn Micah’s holding, and together, they dump his ashes into the ocean. The current spreads them before they sink under the waves.
I clear my throat, choking up while watching them as I imagine my family members in their own watery graves. But I need to be strong for Micah like he was for me after my parents’ memorial service.
He offers me a sad, trembling smile, wrecked but trying to hold it together.
We’re silent as he pulls the anchor and starts the engine, heading back to shore, Rosie’s gaze never leaving the spot in the water where the ashes disintegrated and disappeared from sight. When we dock, I jump out to tie the boat.
Micah drives us back to his grandfather’s house, where I say my goodbyes. “I have to open the bar, but if you need me to stay, I can ask—”
“No, I’ll be okay,” he replies with a tremulous grin. “Thanks for coming with me. You too, Rosie.”
“Thanks for including me. I will never forget Mr. Malone.” She frowns as she looks toward her car parked on the road. “I suppose this is goodbye for me too.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Micah chokes out as if Rosie leaving means his grandfather is really gone. I don’t move toward my own car, considering the option of staying with him this afternoon.
“There’s not much left to clear out,” Rosie says. “The rest should be sorted through by you.” She’s referring to the paperwork and mementos Grandpa Malone would undoubtedly want Micah to handle. “Soon, the house will be sold, and you’ll go back to LA.”
“You’re right. Not sure how long any of that will take. But at least come inside and let me make some lunch. There’s a few more angel statues I want to ask you about.”
She must notice how much he needs that connection with her, and likely she does too. As it was, Micah allowed her to take any keepsakes she wanted. No doubt they’ll reminisce some more over soup and sandwiches.
Relieved that Micah won’t be alone, I pop open my driver-side door. “You’re always welcome at the Witching Hour, Rosie.”
She dips her head. “Thank you.”
As I get in my car and pull out of the drive, I see Micah watching me, looking shell-shocked—and maybe also guilty about leaving Aqua Vista again.
Seth helps me open the bar, but it ends up being a slow night, giving me too much time to think.
I nearly balk at Beth arriving, though she’s been way better about not offering unsolicited advice. In recent weeks, she’s been making nightly appearances for a glass of wine, and I can’t help wondering if she’s lonely.
“Evening, Johnny. Everything all right?” She slides onto a stool. “You seem lost in thought.”
I open my mouth, then think better of it. Nodding, I pour her wine, then take a beer to a customer sitting across the bar. She sips her drink and chats with Seth. Soon enough, I’m pulled into the conversation involving the memorial service for Grandpa Malone today.
“I’m glad Micah carried out his wishes. I bet it was lovely.”
“It was,” I admit. When Seth walks away, I blurt, “Do you think people around here still remember the fishing incident?”
“With Micah and his grandad?” she asks, and I nod. “The old-timers definitely would.”
I sigh. “It sucks that he still carries that regret.”