Page 13 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland

People ask me all the time if we reincarnate to be near the ones we’ve loved in a past life. I don’t know, but I do know that there are people in this world I love beyond reason, people I’d be happy to learn I’ll get to see on the next part of the ride.

—Evie Oxby, People magazine

Beatrice meandered back toward the hotel, feeling stronger in her bones than she had all day. Somehow, the conversation with Minna had shored something up in Beatrice, as if she’d gotten a good nap and a big sandwich instead of just time with her niece.

Her niece .

Would it be too incredibly weird if she already loved Minna?

She wouldn’t—couldn’t—admit it, of course, to anyone, but could this be a tiny sliver of what new mothers felt when they held their babies for the first time? This sudden thump of love, shoving her just like she’d been pushed yesterday (was it only yesterday?) in front of the café.

Midday sunshine fell onto her shoulders, and instead of turning toward the hotel when she passed the tree house and gazebo, she took a left and walked out past where the grass and trees ended, onto the rocky sand. She was on an island. She should do island things.

So she sat and stared at the water. Weren’t you supposed to do nothing on a beach?

Grant had always said, You always have to get up and do things. You never sit in place. Why don’t you just relax?

Why? Because someone had to make sure there was extra toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom—that was why. Someone had to make the list and then cross the things off the list.

But she could try to do nothing now. Far across the water, Seattle was visible through a haze. A light wind tousled the tops of the waves breaking gently on the shore.

Beatrice made it three minutes before calling Iris, who answered on the first ring. “I don’t want to go home.”

Iris gasped. “Then don’t.”

“Are you working out or something?”

“Hell, no.” Another panted breath. “I would never. I just ran in from the car to get the ice cream into the fridge before it melted. It’s like a million degrees in LA today. You don’t want to be here.”

“No, I have to go home. But then I’ll have to deal with both Dad and Grant. But it’s not like I have a choice, you know?”

“Or… you could stay there.”

The light sparked off the water creeping higher on the sand. “I can’t. This isn’t some holiday fantasy where you look up house listings and pretend you’ll stay forever.”

“Bullshit. You can do whatever you want, and this isn’t a holiday fantasy. You found a fucking family.”

“Well, that’s good, since I just lost one.”

“You’ll recover from Grant.”

Was it possible she was already starting to?

Beatrice found that when she poked at the raw, bloody part of her heart, it felt firmer than she would have expected.

Coagulating already? Or was that just fresh new anger plumping it up?

“I can’t stay. I’ve got a huge pitch on Monday and, like, twelve clients this week. ”

“And you really feel like honoring your father’s business reputation?”

Augh. No, she didn’t. But even in the middle of multiple bewildering betrayals, she couldn’t drop all the balls she was supposed to keep in the air. Keeping plates spinning was what she did for her clients, for Grant, and yeah, for herself, also. “It’s my reputation, too.”

“Damn it, Beatrice. What if you really are fucking dying?”

Beatrice shivered in the sunlight. “Not helpful. Besides, we’re all dying. I could be hit by a falling airplane wing, et cetera.”

Iris sighed. You know you can come here if you want to, right?

Stay with us, and we’ll get you so fucking lawyered up, you’ll have to scrape bonus lawyers out of your ears with a Q-tip.

Fuck Grant. I told you to stick with girls.

Didn’t I tell you that? We can still get you back in that house if that’s what you want.

He’s the cheater—he should be the one to leave.

Even though you went to your dad’s house, it’s only been a couple of weeks. We can still get you back in.”

“I hate his house.” She picked up a thin piece of driftwood. The stick was smooth and cool in her fingers. Comforting.

“I thought you loved it.”

“I loved that it was close to you and work. I loved that Dad moved just down the street and that I could be there for Naya at the end. I loved that it was a four-minute walk to Trader Joe’s.

But everything else? I’ve always hated living in that minimalist greige box.

” How had she not ever really admitted that to herself? Anger lit the backs of her eyelids red.

“Seriously?”

With the stick of driftwood, Beatrice leaned forward and drew a house in the sand. “I wish that house would burn to the ground.”

She drew a flame leaping from above the roof. It felt so strangely good to be drawing something, even if it was just lines in the sand. “You know Dad never let me draw?”

“Huh?”

“I remembered it today when I was talking to Minna. I used to do this thing where I’d draw words. He caught me doing it once and knocked the pencil out of my hand.”

“Okay, Mitchell is letting me down more and more, so fuck your dad, and second, what are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure I can explain it.” Beatrice dragged the stick through the sand, the top loop of a B darting through the roof of the house.

“I’d make the letters into lines that felt like the letters I wanted them to be, but no one else would have been able to read the word.

Looked like spaghetti. Very, very pretty spaghetti.

” The U ducked down and into a window, the R came out the back. Then she curled the N under the porch.

“Huh. So, have you called your dad yet?”

“No.”

Iris’s voice sounded worried but she didn’t push it. “When can we pick you up at the airport? Burbank, right? You want us to bring you a big ole burrito to eat in the car?”

Beatrice added a dashed line around the image, little sparks flying away from the house. “I can’t remember when I land tomorrow. I’ll have to look it up.”

A wave bigger than its little friends flirted with her, coming closer than any of the others had. Beatrice stood, backing up as another one encroached on her drawing. The roof was taken first, and then the rest of the house.

Sudden heat flooded through her. Anger? Grief?

Whatever it was, it felt like it was ripping her heart in half.

“I just don’t understand any of this. What if it’s all true?

What if I’ll be dead soon, after five more miracles happen?

What the hell have I been doing with my life?

How am I supposed to figure all this out? ”

“Sometimes we can’t—”

She bent forward, stabbing the stick into the now-wet sand. “Don’t you dare tell me that sometimes we can’t figure it out. We can always learn more and increase our understanding. We figure it out .”

Iris was silent.

“I can,” said Beatrice. “You know I can.”

“Understanding things is your superpower, yeah. But maybe you can’t—”

An electrical pulse rippled through her chest. “What if I did stay?”

“ Now you’re talking.”

“What if there’s more to life than Excel spreadsheets and Sunday night sex and saving money for a retirement that might never come?”

“You’re preaching to the choir, you know that, but I’ll point out that you love saving money. It’s like a sickness.”

True. It felt like a game, one that she could win.

At college, she’d started a savings club with three other CPA-minded friends.

She’d thrown a party when she found a bank with an interest rate that was .

25% higher than anywhere else. A literal party.

Everyone wore golden crowns and whoever collected the most Monopoly money hidden around the house won.

And it had never been about having a lot—she’d never needed to be “rich.” It was why she’d never completely pooled her money with Grant’s bigger accounts.

She’d just wanted to be safe, no matter what.

Safe.

What the hell did that even look like? What did it feel like?

Maybe being safe was overrated.

She clutched her phone so hard, she heard it take a screenshot. “Screw taking a couple more days here. I could just stay stay. I could change everything, right now, in this minute. I could change my life.”

“Um—”

“Are you happy?”

Iris’s voice was a squeak. “Me?”

“Yes, you .”

There was a pause the length of time it took for two gentle waves to roll in and complete the destruction of Beatrice’s drawing.

Then Iris said, “I am. I love Jess. I love our messy house and the fact that I’m the only person in LA who can’t grow a tomato, and I’m happy to get old with her, and I love complaining about traffic to her.

Saturday nights with her on the couch that cost way too much but fits us perfectly—it’s heaven. ”

When was the last time she had wanted to spend an evening on the couch with Grant? They were always going somewhere, doing something, always looking outward. When had they last held hands just because their bodies were close enough to do so?

Idiot asshole dickwad Grant.

Grant, the cheat.

Grant, the man she’d thought was the perfect fit for her well-planned life.

Stop. There were things more important than him; that was for sure. When was the last time Beatrice did something just because she wanted to? Her calendar was so time-blocked that no light could filter through.

“I’m not happy,” Beatrice said with a thump of shock. “I’m not happy? I had no idea . Did you know?”

Iris snorted. “Do you even remember why we broke up?”

“Of course I do!”

“You don’t.”

“Okay, I don’t.”

“You weren’t happy. You said you were fine, but you only wanted to be either at work, all curled up inside your columns of numbers, or at night, reading about how tax legislation was changing.

When I called you on it, you said you were happy, but you were full of crap.

I thought I could help, and you pushed me away.

You spent all your time trying to fix problems that didn’t need fixing.

So I left. And to be honest, you didn’t seem to mind. ”

Beatrice wished she could protest. When Iris had moved out of her condo, she’d been glad that she wouldn’t make Iris sad anymore by being so boring. “But I wasn’t actually unhappy. I wasn’t depressed.”

“Are you sure?”

She scooted backward as a wave ran at her. “Is happiness something people actually go out and try to get?”

“Christ on a Popsicle stick, you try to prove to everyone that you know everything, but you don’t know that much, do you?”

The accusation hurt. She hated being called a know-it-all, but sometimes (often) she did, in fact, know more than others. “Come on.”

“With all that knowledge you’ve got, I sometimes can’t believe you’re a human being. Said with love. Yes, dummy. Everyone goes out and tries to catch happiness with their butterfly net.”

Beatrice swallowed her pride. “How do you catch it?”

“Huh!” Iris sounded surprised. “Sounds dumb, but meditation helps me, I guess. Acceptance. Also, in obvious news, I like to have fun. You should try it sometime. Make one of your spreadsheet lists. I would suggest this to no one but a freak like you. Make a Fun List.”

Beatrice breathed for a moment, listening as Iris popped open another Coke Zero on the other end of the phone.

She thought.

The list formed in her mind, finally. “I’ve got it. The list.”

“Speedy. Tell me.”

She closed her eyes and read it to Iris as it unscrolled behind her eyelids.

“First, I’ll stay for a while.” She’d check out of the Skerry Cove Lodge with its overly aggressive housekeepers and check into the second-best hotel in town.

She’d leave the reservation open-ended. “Second, I’ll do what I want to do, when I want to do it.

Third, I’ll spend money on things that delight me.

Fourth, I’ll try to figure out what a miracle is, and if it exists.

If it does, it should be provable, right?

” Maybe trying to prove a miracle wouldn’t sound like fun to anyone else, but Beatrice felt her blood sizzle at the idea.

“Okay! Now that’s a list! One through three, anyway. Good luck with that last one, you freaking monster.”

The sound of Iris’s cat quietly yakking came over the line. “Taylor Swift again?”

“Yep. She’s three-quarters hairball.”

“Are you less worried about me now?”

“Hell no. You just said that you want to spend money frivolously, so I’m worried you actually are dying. Should I call you an ambulance?”