The Summer of Lost Wishes (17 page)

I keep my distance so I don’t interrupt
their work. Rooks tosses a smile in my direction but continues
helping his dad. Mac walks over and sits on the front step, sipping
on water from a thermos.

“What do you think?” he asks, motioning
toward the Carters. “The fence, I mean.”

I crack up because this old dude totally
knew I wasn’t looking at the fence.

“It’s great,” I say. “Looks a lot like the
one by the sand dunes, so I’d say you guys hit the mark pretty
well.”

Mac readjusts the baseball cap he’s wearing
and chugs some of his water. I wonder if he was here when the
tragedy happened. He’s probably in the right age group to have
known Seth or Hanna.

“Are you going to the Town Hall memorial
party?” I ask, hoping I can ease into the conversation without it
being obvious that I’m really digging up skeletons.

He shakes his head. “It’s the same thing
year after year,” he tells me. “Champagne. Socializing. Using a
tragedy for a reason to drink and party. I went to a few before,
but once I realized what it was, I thought those kids probably
wouldn’t want their lives to be remembered in that way.”

I completely stand behind his statement.
Seth McIntosh would definitely not want his memory to be associated
with drinking champagne at Town Hall. Hanna, I’m not so sure about,
but I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt. Even a princess wants
to be remembered honorably.

“Were you friends with them?” I ask.

He quickly shakes his head. “Oh, no. I
didn’t even live here until many years after that,” he explains. “I
joined the Navy, was stationed in Texas for a while, did a stint in
Japan, worked some odd jobs, re-enlisted, remained stateside, and
eventually went into carpentry because the Navy life got old after
a while.”

My heart sinks a little. I was hoping Mac
was a Coral Sands native who could tell me what Seth was like at
school or if Warren really wanted to go into the seafood business
as planned. He could’ve told me how Hanna reacted to being named
homecoming queen or told me which sports Raymond Hartley played.
Bummer.

“Were you from a military family?” I ask,
even though I’m only partially interested. I want to cover my
tracks better than Frank the fisherman has.

He nods and takes another swig of his water.
“My dad was a Navy man, always liked the water,” he says, looking
across the yard. “I guess that’s why I retired here. I wanted
something near the ocean, with good seafood, in a quieter place.
None of those busy party towns. I didn’t know about Shark Island
when I moved here or I might’ve gone elsewhere.”

“Do you have a theory?” I ask him. I can’t
help it. I’m taking a page out of the seafood industry’s book and
dropping the bait. “Why do
you
think they went out there
that night?”

Mac stares at me, almost like he’s hesitant
of what to say or that he’s shocked I just asked him such a thing.
But his face softens and he looks like he’s in thought, either
coming up with a theory or changing up what he really thinks
because he doesn’t want to tell me the true gruesomeness in his
mind. He probably thinks it was foul play, just like Rooks
does.

“Honestly, I think they were just dumb kids
looking for some fun,” Mac says. “Things were different back then.
We didn’t have the options that you kids have today. They probably
just wanted to do something rebellious and fun before graduation,
and it literally came back to bite them. Excuse the terrible
pun.”

“So getting out on the ocean and visiting
shark-infested waters was considered fun back then?” I
question.

Mac shakes his head and laughs an inaudible
laugh. “That’s one of those mysteries that we’ll never solve,” he
says. “My best guess is that they thought they could outrun the
storm.”

With that, he stands and swallows the last
bit of his water before joining the Carters back at the fence.
Rooks glances back at me, but I go inside to help Mom finish
packing items for her party. I need something to get my mind off of
the tragedy for a bit.

I think Mac has reasoned what happened just
like everyone else has. It was an accident. It was tragic. No one
knows why they went, but they were teenagers who were reckless and
excited about their futures. Or at least that’s what people are led
to believe. People who weren’t here, like Mac, don’t know any
differently than what they’ve heard over the years.

But I know better because Seth himself told
me, even if he doesn’t know it. I can’t fathom why he’d get on a
boat destined for Shark Island when he was planning on dumping the
girl and breaking her heart. It
does
actually seem
suspicious. Why risk his own life? Or his friends’ lives? Did he
really feel the need to stage an accident to be with Rosa?

I can’t accept that. Seth just doesn’t seem
like the type. Maybe they weren’t supposed to go to Shark Island.
Maybe the storm sent them out there. I don’t know why he’d enlist
his friends to go with him to break up with Hanna, but maybe this
night wasn’t meant to be the break up night. Maybe this was an
outing with friends that went awry. Hanna may have never known that
Seth loved someone else. In a way, I hope she didn’t find out. I’m
Team Rosa, but I don’t think Seth wanted to hurt Hanna. He
definitely didn’t intend on killing her.

I shut the front door behind me, wait a
moment to soak in the air conditioning, and then walk into the
dining room where Mom has a craft store sprawled across our new
table.

“How can I help?” I ask.

I’m sorry. We can’t do this. I can’t do
this. This is all wishful dreaming. I know you can’t leave Hanna
because the consequences are too much. I know you want to and
believe that you can, but it’s never that simple. I know your
family isn’t going to let this happen. You will marry Hanna soon,
and all the things we hoped for will be lost with this summer. But
in this moment, in these dying embers of spring, we will always
exist.

I’m returning your letters because I know if
I hold on to them, I’ll never truly be able to let go and move on.
You will find them tied to this letter. Please do not reach out to
me because I know how this story ends, and I’m the one who’ll be
hurt. I do love you, but I can’t do this anymore.

Thank you for giving me these last few
months. Thank you for believing in my dreams with me, for wanting
to go there with me. I will never walk past the Crane Pavilion
without thinking of our time together and the large portion of my
heart that belongs to you and only you.

“Damn,” Rooks whispers, staring the last
letter. “I can’t believe she backed out. I just knew it would be
him if either of them did. I had faith in Ms. Rosa going out into
the world and conquering it.”

He folds the letter and hands it back to me.
Then he leans his head back against the headrest in his truck, like
he always does when he’s thinking or frustrated.

I tilt my head to look at him. “Seriously?
She never left Coral Sands,” I remind him. “She took over the
family restaurant, married, had kids, the whole deal. She lived the
life she was supposed to live. She did the very thing she didn’t
want to do.”

This conversation would probably be much
more intense if I weren’t dressed like a flamingo. Rooks wears a
dark red button-up shirt under his jacket. It matches the red and
orange hues in his dark mask. He’s definitely a phoenix rising from
the ashes, and I’d let him take my soul in a heartbeat. He’s
absolutely beautiful.

“I wonder if that’s why the accident
happened, if Seth was distracted or angry,” he says.

I hold up my hand to stop him. “No,” I say.
“We’re not going there. Seth McIntosh is innocent. I know you don’t
fully believe it, but I feel it, like in my veins. I will fight in
his honor because he’s not here to do it for himself.”

“Okay, okay,” Rooks says in surrender. “So
what if he got these letters back, completely shut down, and his
friends wanted to go out for a joyride to cheer him up? He probably
lied and said he was just sad about graduating or something, not
ready to be an adult, whatever. And then it really was an
accident?”

I huff out a sigh, making sure it has
dramatic flair. “That’s the worst theory yet,” I say.

He sits up quickly, straightening his back.
“What?” he asks. “That’s the most logical thing I’ve come up
with.”

“Exactly,” I admit. “That’s why I hate
it.”

He scoots closer to me and wraps his arm
around me, hugging me close to him.

“Piper, I know you’ve gotten attached to
Seth and Rosa, and I know you want their story to have a happy
ending, but we both know that didn’t happen,” he says.

I don’t want to give in to the sadness. Now
that I’ve finished reading the letters, I know that they’re over. I
know that Rosa moved on, married someone else, and had a family.
She lived a life that maybe she hadn’t dreamed of, but she seems
happy enough or content enough, anyway.

I just hate the thought of Seth reading that
final letter, being given back all of his words, and then ending up
in the mouth of Jaws. There’s no way his ending could be happy or
even peaceful. I’m living in the home he was meant to live in. I’ve
been reading his journey from the moment he saw Rosa on the
carousel’s camel. He deserved better than what this town has given
him, and here I am, in a flamingo mask, pretending like I’m here to
honor him.

“I don’t feel right about this,” I say,
leaning into Rooks. “Mac was right. This isn’t how Seth or Hanna or
Warren or any of them would want to be remembered. I even get why
Frank hates my mom and me. This town has turned them into a
gimmick.”

Rooks runs his fingers through my hair and
then cups my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. He pulls the
flamingo mask off of my face and sets it on the dashboard next to
his phoenix mask.

“Then let’s not celebrate a gimmick
tonight,” he says, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “Tonight is
about celebrating their lives, so we are going to go in there, look
good, and do it in honor of Seth and Rosa. We’re going to celebrate
the fact that he got to meet the girl of his dreams and spend a few
weeks with her before he died. Some people never have that, but he
did.”

For a moment, I don’t even care that Rooks
has spent this summer convinced that Seth might’ve been behind the
accident, even if it was unintentional. The streetlights in the
parking lot reflect in his eyes, and I know he’s right. We have to
do this for Seth and Rosa, to honor the little time they had
together, because no one else is here for them.

“For Seth and Rosa,” I say.

Rooks leans in, fingers tangled in my hair,
and kisses me.

It’s like someone built a time machine and
sent us back to 1965, like it’s days before the great Shark Island
tragedy, and everyone is blissfully unaware that doom is lurking
around the rocks. A photographer snaps photos near a giant backdrop
with shimmery curtains. Did we seriously just transport to a 1960s
prom?

Laughter and music fill the air. We ease
through the crowd, not really looking for anyone in particular.
Mayor Rhodes stands behind a table, serving champagne and sparkling
cider. She laughs with guests, thanking them for coming out to
honor her Aunt Eileen’s memory along with the friends she lost that
night. I wonder how often she plays the ‘I’m the niece of Eileen
Baker’ card. Note to self: Never play the ‘I live in the Calloway
Cottage’ card.

Twinkle lights glisten around the grand
room, and tables upon tables of food and refreshments line the
walls. It’s all so incredibly unfitting for what tonight is about.
I don’t care if we’re celebrating their lives instead of mourning
their deaths. It’s inappropriate.

Rooks takes my hand, and we walk into the
next room. Rosa stands behind a table of Mexican hors d’oeuvres,
catered directly from Casa Garcia. Her granddaughter, Hector’s
younger sister, is with her, twirling in circles and dancing with
Rosa. She’s the one person I won’t be angry toward for dancing
tonight. Seth would’ve wanted her to dance.

“I see you made it,” Hector says,
approaching us from the left. He wears a black jacket and a Phantom
of the Opera-style mask. Typical.

“Glad you guys could come,” Natalie says.
She sounds like her mom. I bet she’s been trained to say all the
right things at events like this.

Her dress is green and yellow. It’s puffy,
like a ball gown, with gemstones and sequins embedded on the upper
part of the dress. It looks heavy, like a pageant dress. Her green
and yellow butterfly mask matches perfectly. I bet it’s
custom-made.

“I have to make the rounds,” Natalie says,
looking away toward her mom. “The chief of police just arrived, and
he always donates to Mom’s campaigns, so I have to go play
nice.”

Hector doesn’t follow her. He waits until
she’s out of earshot before he talks.

“This blows, man,” he says to Rooks. “I have
better things I could be doing tonight than standing around here,
pretending like I care about the anniversary, but it’s been fifty
years. Let’s just put them to rest already.”

I remind myself that he has to listen to the
tragedy talk all the time with Natalie’s family. He’s bitter and
jaded and ‘so over it,’ but he has no clue how much it’s tied to
his own story. If Seth hadn’t died that night, Rosa may not have
married Hector’s grandfather. Hector’s dad wouldn’t have been born,
and therefore, Hector wouldn’t be standing here in the middle of
Town Hall bitching about a fifty-year anniversary.

Hector sighs. “Let me go play the role of a
good boyfriend,” he says. “I’ll catch you in a little while.”

Even with his mask on, I know Hector’s
putting on a big, fake smile to shake hands with the law
enforcement officers standing near the mayor. Everyone here is
playing a part, smiling and dancing and enjoying the
festivities.