Everlasting (2 page)

T
he airport doors opened
, whisking in the smell of pine, sea, and salt. Different smells—new and exciting—made me long for home for a brief moment. I inhaled and wrapped my arms around my waist, chasing away the feeling of being alone in a faraway place.

We trudged to the parking lot, bags dragging at our sides.

The trunk of her small sports car would barely hold a fleck of dust, and I bit the side of my lip.
Will my entire
closet fit inside here?
I gave my luggage a shove and slammed down the lid.

I glanced at Mandy out of the corner of my eye. “Here’s to hoping.”

We hopped into the front seat, and the little car roared to life.

We zigzagged around the parking lot and sped down the highway. Mandy held her foot steady on the gas pedal, and we zipped past pine trees and oaks draped in Spanish moss. I clutched the dashboard, and my fingers dug into the vinyl.
Here comes summer. Let’s do this.

A half hour later, we pulled up to a two-story Victorian house sitting among a row of other houses along the ocean shoreline. The peeling paint had faded into a dull absence of color. Black shutters hung loose around the old-fashioned windows. It wasn’t what I’d call ugly; it just looked like it had been plucked right out of a scary movie, making a small shiver run through me.

Mandy unbuckled her seat belt, pulling up on the door handle. “We’re here. Don’t ya love it?”

I got out, and closed the door behind me. My gaze lingered too long on the house, but I nodded. “Looks great.”

She shot me a snarky leer. “Yeah right, I know what you’re thinking. Look, it’s the best I could do. I’m only seventeen. Give me a chance for Pete’s sake.”

A faint breeze pushed the hair from my face, and I wiped my dripping brow. Ninety degrees here was twice as hot as it was in Montana. “Good grief, does this heat ever give up?”

Mandy dug into the trunk and brought out my suitcases, sitting them on the ground. “You get used to it.”

We lobbed up to her front door. While I waited for her to unlock it, her silk-gold hair tantalized me—groveling for my attention. My gaze flicked to it. It washed over her shoulders in waves, and I loved it.
Can you say…jealous?
I only dreamed mine could look like that.

She turned the key, and I stepped inside. A clap of thunder echoed in the sky, and a door slammed from somewhere up above. My curiosity twisted and coiled my thoughts into other places. I examined the house, my eyes darting to take in the antique artistry. The inside, by far, made up for what the outside lacked.

A foyer led into a sitting room, adorned with cathedral ceilings in which a chandelier with teardrop jewels hung. The room reeked of mustiness. Faded black-and-white pictures of prudish ladies wearing petticoats, and boys and men in knickers, hung high above a winding staircase. I ran my hands along the Victorian gingerbread and curled scrolls that lined the doorframes and staircase, immersing myself in the intricate detail.

Pictures of Mandy and her family sat on the fireplace mantle. A picture of me taken from my eighth-grade year—my face full of freckles, and the gap between my teeth a prize to everyone that came into the room—sat among them.

I squinted, looking at it closer.
Why did she have a picture of me mixed in with her family? Did she really like me that much?

“That? You still have that picture of me from eighth grade?” My hand jerked, urging me to grab the picture and dump it in the trash. I shoved it into my pocket, trying to tame it. “It’s awful.”

Mandy rolled her eyes, a small smirk playing on her pouty lips. “No it’s not.” She shrugged. “You look cute.”

In one of the pictures, Mandy cuddled close to a dark-haired boy with shining brown eyes, a slight upturn to his nose. They were both laughing, Mandy looking at him mischievously out of the corner of her eye.

I stepped closer, pointing to the picture of the two of them. “Gosh, Mandy, who’s that? You never told me you knew a guy like that.” My eyes flew wide. “He’s a freaking babe.”

Her smile consumed her face, and her eyes twinkled. “Uh…no one in particular, only the guy I’m marrying next year.”

“What? Yeah…you’re kidding me…right? You’re actually getting married? To him? I mean, he’s cute and all, but what about our pact? You know…fifty was our target. Aren’t you a little young?”

She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot on the floor. “Now, Mother, you can stop the lecture anytime now. Why wait? We’re ready now. You’ll meet him tomorrow.” She motioned toward the snaking staircase. “C’mon, your bedroom’s upstairs, complete with a shower right across the hall. Go put your things away, and get rid of that nasty stink I keep smelling.”

She laughed as I shot her a sneer, and we lugged up the staircase, my heavy bags in tow. I’d be relieved to finally settle down and get my things put away. “Are your parents home, Mand?” I followed her down a narrow hall. Only a few lights flickered, keeping it dim.

“Nope, I live here on my own.”

“How do you afford it?”

“Simple. My dad owns a fishing boat business. Business is doing well, so he and my mom bought this house and car for me. Aaron got the same thing, but mine’s newer. That’s the benefit of being a girl and knowing how to wrap Daddy around your little finger.” Her mouth opened, and she wiggled her finger at me.

My eyebrows arched.
Must be nice to have a rich dad.

Aaron was Mandy’s older brother. He was six years older than me, and when I was in junior high, he was my secret heartthrob. Mandy didn’t know it, but I used to go play at her house to catch a glimpse of him. Then, I’d rush home and write a love note, vowing to myself that I would give it to him next time. But I never could work up the courage. The crush faded when I couldn’t compete with his ego.

“So, do your parents and Aaron live around here?”

Her head turned, and she glared at me. “No…no, they don’t.” I jerked at her low and scathing voice. “They used to…but moved away. I haven’t seen them in over eight months.” She pointed to the right—a tattered, brown wooden door—brushing away the subject, so I didn’t say any more. “This door here. Go ahead and get unpacked. Take your time, relax a little. I’m sure you’re tired. We’ll eat when you come down.”

I laughed, my voice rickety. “Sure thing, sista. See ya in a few.”

She closed the door behind her, and I shivered—bugs scurried down my spine, running for cover. There was something about this place. Something unsettling…askew.

The room calmed me. Its enchanting yellow walls and big windows gave me a grand glimpse of what this summer held in store for me. A lace-covered window seat wrapped itself around the four large windows, and I planned on making it my reading nook.

I plodded to the open windows, and peered out at the ocean. My breath caught at the view and the rolling waves crashing against the shoreline…exhilarating.

I inhaled a deep breath of hot, salty air. Mandy had changed…different somehow—edgy. I sat down on the window seat, and pulled my knees to my chest. Was she hiding something from me about her parents? I wouldn’t pry. It was none of my business. She would tell me if she wanted me to know.

After I got unpacked, I sat down on the bed and rubbed my calves—smoothing lotion into them. Then I lay down and sighed, stretching my tired legs, spent and worn from the long day.

The exhaustion took over, creeping in much deeper than I realized. My eyes fluttered open to a dark room. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and eleven o’clock glared back at me. Anxious to see if Mandy was still up waiting for me, I got up and tiptoed down the hall.

In my tired state, I slogged by a closed white door. The scent of roses drifted to my nose, surprising me. My foot rolled, and I stumbled. Floundering for support, I grappled for the wall. Where did that smell come from? Could I be that tired? A vision of Lidia Forester and her aromatic rose smell flashed in my mind. I gathered my wits, continuing on.

I used my hands in the dark hall, sneaking to the staircase and groping at the wood railing for guidance. I stepped on the first step, hearing the faint sound of music playing from downstairs. It was classical, maybe Bach or Chopin, but it was low—too faint to tell. Assuming it was from the TV, or a radio, I continued on down the steps. At least Mandy hadn’t gone to bed.

I fumbled through the sitting room and arched my way into the dim kitchen, the moon shining in through the window casting a skewed light. The music still played, but I was wrong—the beautiful notes tinkled from upstairs. Mandy must’ve been playing it in her room. I flicked on the kitchen light and opened the refrigerator, finding some cheese and bologna for a sandwich.

I ate the sandwich and guzzled down a glass of milk, burped, then snuck back up the staircase, ready for bed. As I passed by the white door, the music stopped.
Guess she got tired of
waiting up for me.

I padded back to my room and crawled into bed, but the pungent aroma of roses wouldn’t leave. It lingered, bringing with it an odd tingle of electricity that snapped the air and burned my nose. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to sleep.

T
he next morning
, I shot up in bed to clanging and banging coming from downstairs. Glaring sunlight streamed in through the bedroom windows, and I squinted, confused.
Where
was I, and how did I get in this strange place?
I shook my head, stirring the cobwebs, still halfway asleep.

I ran both hands over my face to rid myself of sleep, finally waking up enough to recognize these new, unusual surroundings. Then I jumped up and sifted through my suitcase, digging for my pink bikini, eager to get the summer started.
Ah-ha, here’s my baby.
I put it on and slipped a pair of blue shorts over the top.

Shifting down the hall, I drifted by the white door from last night. Its partial opening beckoned, and, curiosity killing no one but me, I pushed on it, opening it farther. I peeked in, the stark bareness of the bedroom making my breath hitch for an instant. Only an oak table and a couple of chairs sat along one wall, along with an ornate, wooden dresser that stood in the corner—an antique mirror with etched, hazy edges sitting on top. A peculiar, musty smell permeated. This couldn’t be Mandy’s bedroom.

I continued on down the hallway and loped down the stairs, taking two at a time. Mandy pulled a hot pan of biscuits out of the oven. “Bout time ya got up. Bed lumpy enough for ya?” She shot me a mischievous smile, and bounced up on her toes. One day made a big difference. Must have been stress yesterday.

“Yeah, but they were all good lumps.” I laughed, and pulled out a chair “You shoulda woke me. I feel like we’re wasting precious seconds. But the crashing of the waves and the cool air coming in through the windows was heaven. I’ll havta admit that.”

Mandy nodded. “Yeah, I know whatcha mean.” She sat the biscuits on the table, and plopped down in the chair across from me. Taking wisps of her hair, she twisted it into a braid. “The waves and the fresh air can make you sleep like a baby...most nights.” Her eyes slanted to the corner of the room, and her mouth clamped tight.

I stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she never said anything more. “Hope you never waited on me for dinner last night. Guess you were right, I hit the bed and never looked back.”

“Haven’t I always been right?”

I poured a glass of orange juice, and reached for her glass.

She waved her hand. “I don’t want any. Already ate.”

I ladled thick gravy over my biscuits, my forehead wrinkling. “So…which one is your room? Isn’t it the one closest to mine—the one with the white door?”

She stopped braiding her hair and her eyes narrowed. She stared at me, hesitating. “No, mine’s down the hall to the right of yours. That used to be my parents’ room. They left that old furniture when they moved. Please…stay out.” Her tone intensified and became caustic.

My scalp prickled, and I pushed my food around on my plate—appetite heading south. The gurgle in my stomach was the only sound in the quiet kitchen. I suddenly missed my mom.

Mandy pushed away from the table, and bounded up the stairs. It wasn’t long before she came back—the freaking babe by her side. She paraded a purple-and-black two-piece, and he flaunted faded red swim trunks.

What’d she do? Have him stashed in her closet? Must be nice.

“Well, here he is…meet my bae, Matt Cobain.” Matt stepped closer, extending a hand. “Matt, this is my bestie, Sophia.” His cool hand wrapped around mine. He looked even better in person.

“Nice to meet you, Matt.” My gaze shot to the floor, and my ears burned hot.
Here I go again.
Why did the male species always have this effect on me?

“Same here, Sophia.” He winked. “Sounds like you and Mandy go way back.”

I swallowed a couple times and cleared my throat. “Oh, heck to the yeah…I guess you could say that.” I blushed again.
Why did I say something so stupid? He must really think I’m
weird.

“Would you guys quit gabbing? Let’s go swim.” Mandy grabbed a pale green towel and headed for the foyer. “Well, not swim in the traditional way…exactly. A special kind of swim.” She slanted a wry smile.

I eyed her, cracking my knuckles. “Uh…what’s that supposed to mean? You’re not hiding something from me, are you? Making me nervous here, guys.”

Mandy’s hand slapped her chest, and she batted her eyelashes. “Who me? Never…. Just work with me here…you’re gonna love it.” She threw her head back and laughed.

My eyebrows edged my hairline. “I hope so. You’re scaring me.”

On our way out, Matt stopped in the hallway and pulled open a closet door, lifting up a dusty surfboard plastered with stickers and words scrawled in black marker. “I can’t forget this.” He blew off the dinginess, and a boyish grin lit his face. “The waves are calling me.”

“Matt’s gonna surf while we snorkel.”

I gulped. “Wait…what…? Snorkel?” Just the sound of the word made me cringe.

Mandy opened the front door. “YOLO, right…you know…you only live once. What…you a baby or somethin’?”