Page 44 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

“But I wanted to keep it!” I stood in the kitchen in my mermaid nightgown, my six-year-old eyes brimming with tears.

My mom stooped down to my level and cupped my gap-toothed face. “Sweetie, it’s empty. You don’t need it anymore.”

“But it’s special to me!”

Daddy sighed. “Everything is special to you, Alex.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Grandmama came to my defense. “Why don’t I go look in the can outside? It picks up in the morning.”

I ran for my new shoes. “I’ll come with you!”

Minutes later, we were elbow deep in bags of paper plates and leftover food, coke cans, and torn red-and-white striped tablecloths. “It has to be in here somewhere,” I wailed.

“We’ll find it. We won’t give up until we do.” She lifted another bag. I leaned over her arm, holding my nose.

“There!” It sat at the very bottom of the green rolling trash can. Though its lid was slightly dented from the pressure of the bags we’d pulled off the top, it was largely unscathed, certainly salvageable.

Grandmama reached down and handed me the cardboard container. “There. Better than new.”

I turned it over in my hands. “Better?”

“Mmhm. Because you loved it enough to come back for it. Sometimes we have to fight for the things that matter to us, work a little bit.” She winked. “Like an old lady digging through the trash to bring back her granddaughter’s smile.”

Footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs next door, and two little boys emerged at the top. “Beat you,” the younger one panted.

“You got a head start.” The older one shoved him inside, and the door slammed shut behind them.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Grandmama said. “So you can dream of what you’re going to do with your box.”

“I already know,” I told her.

“Oh?”

“I’m going to fill it with other special things.”

She set the last bag back in its place and shut the lid. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

I stand on the porch where my summer—my life—changed course and knock, even though the key still sits in the bag around my shoulder. I didn’t handle last Thursday the way I should have, and I need to remedy that before I move forward.

When footsteps echo inside, I begin to sweat. It’s only been a week, but it feels like an entire lifetime since I saw him last.

The door opens, and there he is, looking hesitant and a bit disheveled.

He steps aside. “Come on in.” I pretend not to see him stop by the couch after he closes the door behind me.

I want to have this conversation in our usual spot in the kitchen; it feels like the only appropriate place to lay my heart bare. He follows me.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I shake my head. All I want to do is run into his arms, but I’m here for a reason, and I can’t lose sight of that.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He sighs and shrugs his shoulders. “Not especially. But I will be.”

“You’re shaking.” I can’t talk myself out of taking his hand in both of mine, trying to press some kind of peace into it.

He swallows. “I didn’t hear from you at all after you texted to say you made it back. And then, out of the blue, a message asking if we could talk? In person? I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming.”

“I’m really sorry.” I am. “I didn’t want to communicate with you until I had a grip on things; I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.” His hand moves, but I won’t let go. “It’s been an eventful week. Can I tell you a few things you don’t know?”

His deep brown eyes flicker before he nods his assent.

“First of all, I stayed at your sister’s place last night.” I watch his face register my admission. “We’ve actually been in touch quite a bit this week.” I give him a moment, then continue. “My principal called me into her office on Monday morning and let me go.”

He gasps. “What? Why?”

“It seems a concerned citizen called her and told her I was heartbroken and wouldn’t be much good in one of her classrooms this year.

She offered to let me out of my contract and even to contact a friend of hers who works as an administrator in the district here.

” I smirk. “Did I ever mention that my principal is Sutton’s mother-in-law? ”

Jude smiles for the first time since I walked in.

“Anyway, I met with her friend this morning, and it’s going to take a week or two for all the paperwork to clear HR, but—”

His hand flexes in mine, hope radiating from his face. “Alex, please tell me you’re serious about this.”

“As long as you’re okay with it.”

He’s practically levitating. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Kelsey said I could stay with them for a while until I get settled and figure out what’s next.”

His reaction is every bit as satisfying as I dreamed it would be. When he’s finished kissing me, he says, “If you’re looking for input on that, I have a very strong recommendation.” I follow his line of sight over to the drawer in the counter.

I let go of his hand long enough to walk over and slide it open. Where our notebook once lived, there’s a single sheet of paper, still folded the same way I last saw it. And on top of that sits a small gray velvet box. Stunned, I stare at it as Jude starts speaking again.

“I wanted to give you time and space to figure out what you wanted, but I’ve known exactly what I want for a while, Alex.” He touches his glasses, nerves overcoming him. “I don’t want to freak you out or scare you off, so we don’t have to talk about this right now if you don’t want to.”

I look up. “I do want to. I’m ready, Jude.”

He moves next to me and picks up both the jewelry box and the paper.

“Did you change it already?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I hadn’t given up on the hope that maybe we could still edit the circumstances rather than the poem.”

“Good.” I lean against the counter. “Can I read it now then?”

“You can. But first.” He inhales. “I need to ask you something.”

I feel like I might explode with happiness.

“Alexandria.” He pauses. “What time is it?”

Not the question I was expecting.

He leans around me to check the microwave display. “If we leave now, we can get there on time.”

I’m lost. “What are you talking about?”

He sets the poem on the counter and tucks the ring box into his pocket. “How would you feel about making some Ye Olde Dragon history?”

“Shut. Up. Are you for real?!”

I can see my excitement painted all over his expression. He chuckles and leans in. “Unless you’re ready to admit that a pirate-themed dinner show is the cheesiest place ever to get engaged.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, stand on my tiptoes, and rest my forehead against his. “Jude Alford, I think you’re forgetting a very important detail.”

He moves his face until the tips of our noses are touching. “What’s that?”

“I LOVE cheese.”

His deep laugh rumbles through my chest, and it’s hard to tell where his joy ends and mine begins.

“Let’s go,” he whispers and grabs my hand.

I’m not afraid as we walk to the door, just perfectly content holding tight to the boy whose past is interwoven with mine. He stops to kiss me once more and then ushers me out into the sunshine, into the rest of my life.