Page 35 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

IRELAND

I leaned against the wall outside of the locker room, my eyes fixed on the open door to the dance room.

“Well,” Adeline said, taking up a post beside me. “It was really fun before… you know.” She gestured vaguely toward the room.

My Miss Trish plan failed. Even with the slowest waltz known to man, she’d found a way to disrupt class. And blame me for it.

In front of Adair.

Despite the mortification of the scene, a slight shiver creeped up my spine at how he’d handled the situation.

The same guy who blushed on a dime, hid himself under baggy clothes, and slipped notes under my door after almost kissing me had just… commanded that situation.

“This is for you, I think.”

Adeline produced a rubber duck and a note from seemingly nowhere and held them out to me. I took them, and she bumped me with her hip. “Might as well call me Delly. We’re friends now. Or will be soon. ”

I cocked my head toward her. “Delly,” I said with a small smile.

“Do you have any nicknames?” she asked.

Dancing Queen.

Indigo Girl.

“The littles at my dance studio—my old dance studio, I mean—called me Miss Indy. ‘Ireland’ was a little hard for them.”

She made a thoughtful noise low in her throat. “Weird how we can miss things like that without realizing it. Grams used to call me ‘Delladoo.’ I’d give anything to hear her say it one more time.”

“Grams?”

“Pops’s wife,” she explained with a sad smile. “We lost her a few years ago.”

I bumped her hip back in sympathy, but something about her phrasing was off. “Wife? Not your grandma?”

“Not technically, no. Wilbur and Nell Smith were our neighbors growing up. The country definition of the word, anyway. We weren’t—aren’t—related. Technically speaking.”

I couldn’t do anything but stare at her, note and duck forgotten in my hand.

I’d barely scratched the surface of the new information by the time Adair and Miss Trish stepped into the hallway, followed closely by the EMT I didn’t know.

Adair looked our way, but then Miss Lenny materialized out of thin air, hands on her hips as she demanded his attention.

I kinda hoped she was roasting Miss Trish.

“I take it class is over for today?” Adeline— Delly— asked.

“For today,” I agreed. “But you’ll come next week?”

“Even if it’s sunny,” she said with a bright smile.

I gave her a little tap on the arm with my longboard. “ Good. I’ve gotta go. Tell your brother I won’t need a ride home.”

Her smile brightened impossibly further. “Sure thing, Miss Indy.”

I snorted. “See you later, Delly.”

With one last look to make sure Trish was walking out of here of her own volition, I made my way down the hall and pushed out the heavy doors, dropped my board onto the wet ground, and stripped off my black leather ballroom heels.

My toes scrunched against the sandpapery texture of my board as I tucked my duck and note into my skirt’s pocket for later.

My key and phone were in the other, so it was a good thing the duck wasn’t heavy, or I’d run the risk of my skirt falling to my ankles.

The light drizzle shimmied over my skin as I kicked off toward Camellia Lane. To the house I shared with a man I… liked.

Very much.

And now respected even more. Him and his sister both, but him especially.

He moved to a new state to be close to someone important to him, even if it was only for the summer. Someone he had no obligation to care for, if obligations were only determined by blood.

I regretted the passing negative thoughts I’d had about him last month when he hadn’t been back to visit Wilbur.

I rolled right up to the house, thankful for the lack of steps, and hovered there for several long seconds.

Only for the summer.

That was the reality. His and mine.

I may have two new roommates, but they weren’t forever. This wasn’t forever or even for a while. I needed to remember that .

I kicked the board up, tucked it back under my arm, and got out my key, but… there was nowhere to put it.

For a mindless moment, I considered that I’d accidentally come to the wrong house. I glanced at Miss Lenny’s pineapple decor next door and shook off the wild notion.

The shiny silver lock had two rows of numbers and an ovular opening below it. I shifted my board to my other arm, and it bumped up against the lump in my pocket. I fished around in my skirt and pulled out the duck and note, something bittersweet tightening my chest as I read it.

Coffee, Tea, or…?

P.S. Code is your bday.

P.P.S. Happy Belated Birthday,

Indigo Girl

How….

I swallowed hard and wiped the rain from my face, then keyed in the code.

0-5-0-7.

A mechanical whirring sound, and then the door unlocked.

Quiet welcomed me inside, and I propped my board in its usual place in the corner by the door.

Only for the summer.

I took a deep inhale and held onto it tight.

How did it still smell like pancakes and pine in here after so many hours? Every other day, the house had that vague recycled air smell, but not anymore.

It smelled like Adair.

Only for the summer.

Maybe if I repeated it, then…

I didn’t even know what .

After collapsing onto the kitchen chair, the one I’d claimed as mine, I sat the duck and the sticky note in front of me.

A laugh got stuck somewhere between my throat and mouth, and I hung my head, my chin hitting my chest.

Silent laughs reverberated in my chest for several seconds, and when I raised my head and looked at the duck again, they finally fell from my lips, loud in the empty room.

Adair had kept this word. It was unmistakably my dad—as a duck.

I turned it over, smiling hugely when I found words written at the bottom.

Duck Sewell

I leaned forward to pluck a pen from the table, then wrote my response under his question about whether I preferred coffee or tea.

Coffee

I left it at that and went to his bedroom, intending to slide the note under his door.

But… his door was open. Wide open, as if he had nothing to hide, no reason to make sure it was shut before we left this morning.

I took a hesitant step inside. Just one.

I was only human.

The pine-and-fresh-air scent was so much stronger in here.

Breathing in deeply, I shut my eyes. My shoulders dropped. The rigid muscles in my back, neck, and shoulders loosened one by one, like a thread being pulled.

I no longer knew the difference between relaxing and unraveling. Assuming there was one.

My eyes snapped open. Clenching my fists by my sides, I hardly heard the crinkle of the sticky note in my hand as my gaze drifted across his space.

His curtains were open. His dirty clothes—scrubs, jeans, and some T-shirts—were all contained within an open hamper in the corner.

A phone charger was draped over the nightstand beside a charging e-reader.

My stomach tightened when I saw the worst of it.

His bed.

It was neatly made, covered in a thick quilt.

Much too thick for coastal Alabama and didn’t match the vibe of the rest of the room at all, but it was still so… enticing. It looked homemade, each square depicting mountain scenes in warm earth tones. Bears, cabins, campfires, pine trees….

Had Wilbur’s wife made it?

That wasn’t for me to know. To wonder. None of it.

With one last glance around the room, I reluctantly left.

I trudged directly to the kitchen and took a fresh sticky note from the stack, deciding I needed to add more to my response.

The top of the new one read:

If you’re not getting older, you’re dead

I supposed that was true, so I didn’t strike it out this time.

I picked up the pen and wrote :

Cappuccino in the morning (hot),

Sweet tea in the afternoon (cold)

P.S. You?

I hesitated just a moment, then added:

P.S.Thank you.

P.P.S. For everything.

The sticky part of the new one was fresh, so it stuck nicely to Adair’s doorjamb.

With that done, I dipped into my room with Adair’s original sticky note still crumpled in my hand and tossed it onto the bed.

After changing into fresh clothes for my meeting with Ari, I hesitated at the door for several seconds before turning around, grabbing the note, and yanking open my nightstand drawer.

Gil’s tool belt greeted me as I dropped the balled up paper inside.

Then I shut the drawer slowly, with much more care than I’d opened it.

I was keeping the damn sticky note so I wouldn’t forget the kindness. Even if it eventually hurt to remember.