Almost A Bride

* * *

EIGHT HOURS SINCE Mandi had been dropped off at the cottage and she was still in a fetal position on Nana’s bed. She glanced at the time on her phone, squinting with one eye to lessen the screen’s glare, and slapped it back down on the bed. Three in the morning? She covered her eyes with her hand. Her legs didn’t want to move any more than the rest of her did. Yesterday evening, without so much as a bite of dinner, she had wrapped herself in Nana’s favorite crocheted purple shawl and curled up on her bed, dozing on and off for mere minutes at a time. At some point, she must have really fallen asleep, lulled by the faint, lingering scent of Nana’s woodsy perfume on her pillow.

She stared up at the moon shadows that stretched across the ceiling. Her grandmother’s energy still seemed to fill the room. It was both comforting and unsettling. Was Nana passing away so suddenly all Mandi’s fault? Had she brought on everything bad that had happened in her life, like losing her mother, grandma and even Gray? No regrets. That advice didn’t make sense at a time like this. She did regret not seeing her grandmother at least one last time. She regretted not being there for Nana the way Nana had always been there for her. She regretted...

Gray’s face flashed in her mind. No, she didn’t regret leaving him. She had done the right thing not marrying him. Even Nana had consoled her through the ordeal, emphasizing that a person had to find themselves and master the art of self-love and self-respect before they could ever stand tall enough to lift others off the ground. Mandi had assumed that those who needed lifting referred to people—or even animals—around her in general or maybe future children and family...but not Gray. Nana couldn’t have meant him, specifically. Gray didn’t need anyone holding him up. He exuded confidence with every step he took and had his life exactly where he wanted it to be, from his thriving practice to his work saving endangered turtle hatchlings on the beach. Grayson Zale knew exactly who he was. He simply could not bring himself to share every part of him with Mandi, and that wasn’t good enough for her. Or maybe she hadn’t been good enough for him. Whatever it was, she deserved more than to settle for a life with someone who didn’t trust or love her enough to be completely open with her. Neither of them would have been happy.

She rolled off the edge of the bed, flicked on the side lamp, gave her puffy eyes a moment to adjust, then began folding the shawl. The open, floral-patterned stitching on the bottom left corner snagged on the nightstand’s knob, pulling the loose drawer slightly askew. She freed the shawl and set it carefully where it had been, near the end of the bed, then turned to straighten the drawer.

Open it.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks and sucked in the corner of her lip. Going through all of her grandma’s drawers and belongings was inevitable. She would have to face it sooner or later, but the fact that she was actually curious about what Nana kept in her nightstand felt wrong. She had never been a snoop. She had always respected people’s privacy because she wanted the same for herself. That was probably why she’d never made enough headway with getting Gray to share more about his past with her. She wasn’t aggressive enough. Her father was aggressive and she made a point of trying not to be like him. She fingered the knobs.

“I’m sorry, Nana, but I get the feeling you’d want me to make sure there aren’t things tucked away you don’t want my dad seeing.”

Nightstands were very personal spaces. What if her unabashedly wild-at-heart grandmother kept secret love letters or sexy romance novels hidden in there? Did she want to know? Did she dare look inside? She opened the drawer, supporting the side with the broken runner with her left hand. A five-by-eight notebook with a recycled paper cover adorned with pressed flowers lay next to a few pens, a very old camera, a rather large multi-tool camping knife, a colorfully woven, empty change purse that looked like it had been made somewhere in South America and the remains of a small ball of yarn with a crochet needle stuck through it. Leave it to Nana to have such an eclectic collection of items.

Mandi picked up the journal and did a quick flip of the pages. They were yellowing around the edges and one had what looked like coffee stains. “Journal #2” was written inside the cover, but there wasn’t another notebook in the drawer. Apparently, Nana had another tucked away somewhere. What was odd was that this one was mostly empty. There were only a few entries, the first of which was dated a couple of decades ago, around the time when Mandi’s mother left town. She held Nana’s difficult-to-read cursive scribbles up to the light.

I haven’t written in many, many years. Not since returning to Turtleback. But I thought it was time to try again. I haven’t been able to write since I lost the two most important people in my life. The only trusted, loved, closest friends I’ve ever had and ever will. That pain still lingers in my chest and haunts me in the early morning hours when I walk the beach. They would have loved this beach. They would have understood my need to protect the turtle nests...to save lives. Lives hidden secretly beneath the sand, waiting for the chance to break free and truly live. But some secrets can never surface. They would have understood that, too.

After they died, writing about my days didn’t seem as important as returning home, picking up the pieces, building a new life and figuring out how I was going to raise my unborn child. I had survived the worst in life and knew I’d survive this, but I didn’t know I’d fail at it. I failed my only child. I spoiled John when I thought I was giving him everything I didn’t have. He has never learned the true value of life...and love. Audra left them last night. She left John and her sweet little girl without warning. I sensed it would happen sooner or later. It makes me so sad to know that Mandi won’t have her mother around. I love that little girl with all my heart. I’ll be there for her. I’ll do my best and hope that this time, I won’t fail at parenthood. My hope for her is that she will someday experience love as deeply as I have and that it never leaves her behind.

Mandi wiped her face on her sleeve, but the tears kept falling. All she’d ever been told was that her grandfather had died at war. Nana had never expressed or shown in any way just how heartbroken she was, nor had she mentioned this other friend in her life. What secrets was she talking about that could never surface? Did everyone have secrets they were keeping from her? Like Gray?

Mandi grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. Her grandmother didn’t say anything specific about why Audra had left. All she’d ever told Mandi was that it wasn’t because of her. And her father had declared the subject off-limits more than once, during her teen years.

She turned to the next page and double-checked the date. This entry was only written about two years ago. That was strange. It seemed that her grandmother’s attempt to start journaling again hadn’t worked out. Why? There weren’t any entries made during the years since Mandi’s mother, Audra, had abandoned them. The only other entry was on the day Mandi had almost become a bride. It was a little shorter and the handwriting slightly messier, no doubt a reflection of Nana’s age and arthritis.

I failed again. Mandi did find the kind of love I had wished for her, but I had asked for it to never leave her. Love didn’t leave Mandi. I know this because I saw the pain she left in her wake. She was the one to abandon love. Maybe her father was right, for once, in saying that she was too young. He and Audra had been too young. I hope that someday Mandi embraces her inner strength and confidence and proves to herself that she can achieve anything she puts her mind to. I hope she finds success and understands the true meaning of it. And, most importantly, I hope she learns to love herself.

Mandi closed the journal. She had no more tears. Instead, she suddenly felt empty and cold. She’d never known anyone to exude confidence like her grandmother. Nana had been her rock. Yet, these two entries mentioned failure and loss. They were tinged with disappointment. Why hadn’t she written about the good times, when Mandi was growing up? Had she been too busy helping to raise her? Did she only write about bad times? If so, that made Mandi wonder even more what her secrets were and where the first journal was hidden. Maybe it had answers. As for Mandi’s finding success, she hoped Nana had seen that happen over the past couple of years. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t written another entry. All was good and she felt Mandi had picked up the pieces of her life and was on the right track. She had told Mandi, during her last visit to New York, that she was proud of her.

Mandi shut the drawer and quickly rummaged through the opposite nightstand, top shelf in the small closet and dresser drawers. The other journal wasn’t in the room, but she’d find it. Not this minute—for all the hours she’d spent trying to sleep, her body and mind felt wrung dry—but she would probably find it while sorting through Nana’s belongings. She turned off the light.

“Nana, if you can hear me now, know that you didn’t fail. You were always amazing and so important to me. I won’t fail you. I’ll prove you did everything right. I will be strong and I’ll continue to prove I can be successful. I promise.”

She would. As soon as she wrapped things up in Turtleback, she was more determined than ever to put all her drive and energy into her new job She’d make that advertising company wish they could clone her. She’d make other companies in New York wish they could have her. She’d channel her grandmother’s strength and show the world what she could do.

Her stomach growled and she pressed her hand against it. She didn’t actually have an appetite, but maybe the lack of food had something to do with how weak she felt.

She walked over to the window and peered out. The beach was dark and quiet with nothing moving but the moonlight skipping on the water. She closed the blinds and went to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea would be enough to shut her stomach up and open up her appetite. And going through emails might get her mind off things.

She turned on the kitchen light, set the water to boil and checked messages on her phone while her laptop booted up on the breakfast table. A few messages were from new acquaintances at work letting her know about where they were planning to meet for Friday night happy hour. She ignored them. One was from Lana, her college apartment roommate and friend sending her sympathy from New York. She’d met her through the same master’s program. Mandi sent her a quick reply. She scrolled down and almost missed the one from a name she recognized as Nana’s lawyer and old friend.

She had forgotten all about that part of dealing with a loved one’s passing. She was supposed to meet him this morning at nine regarding Nana’s will. He was confirming the time. She’d be there, but she dreaded it. Hearing Joel read off Nana’s will would only grind in the reality that had hit her today at the funeral.

She stared at the message for a second. Nana’s will. She knew she would have to help sort through her grandmother’s personal items, but in her mind, she pictured the house and everything in it as staying the same forever. But for what? Her father? He’d likely inherit it, but he had his own place on the sound side and never really cared for the cottage. He claimed that it was a money pit in need of too much restoration and repairs, especially after hurricanes. True, the salty air and frequent storms had weathered the place and it needed constant upkeep, like most homes along the Outer Banks, but it had charm and told a story, like the lines on the face of someone who’d experienced more than their share of life. Someone like Nana.

But Mandi wouldn’t be able to argue with her dad if he wanted to sell it. He never listened to her anyway. She certainly couldn’t care for it herself, not just financially in terms of repairs—she was still new at her job and had tons of college debt to pay—but logistically, too. She wouldn’t be around. A sadness enveloped her. This cottage held a lot of memories. Memories that hadn’t been captured in Nana’s journal. Sometimes a person didn’t have a choice in life. Letting go was a part of living, wasn’t it? That was one lesson she’d learned in life, so far. And if she wanted to honor her grandmother’s wish and find success in life, she’d have to let go of this place, too. She closed the lawyer’s email and held the phone to her chest. She didn’t care what was in the will. It didn’t matter.

She didn’t want to gain anything from Nana’s death. She just wanted her back.

* * *

THE LAW OFFICE of Joel Burkitt occupied a space on the second story of what was the original Turtleback volunteer fire station. The station had been moved to a more accommodating space fifteen years ago, partially funded by the sale of the original. The ground floor housed a yoga studio that most people in town claimed stayed afloat only because Joel, who owned the building, was sweet on the instructor.

Mandi noticed her father’s car parked along the street in front of the yellow building. Joel hadn’t mentioned having them both show up together, although it made sense since Nana didn’t have any other family in town. Mandi figured Joel would just give her a copy of the will, review any mention of her in it, and that would be it. That’s what she’d hoped would happen. Nothing formal or staged like in the movies. She pulled up behind her dad’s car and went inside, noting the studio had only two students in it, currently in mountain poses. She climbed the steps to the Burkitt Law Office and knocked before entering.

“Mandi, thanks for joining us. I’m sorry that I didn’t catch you yesterday at the service,” Joel said, waving her in.

“No worries. Hi, Dad.” She shook Joel’s hand and sat on the empty chair next to her father.

“Mandi.” John nodded his welcome, then motioned around the room. “Hard to believe you could have been sharing this practice with Joel by now. A shame, really.”

“Seriously, Dad?” She couldn’t believe he was embarrassing her by bringing up the fact that she had refused to go to law school and, according to him, had thrown away an opportunity he’d set up for her to work with Burkitt and eventually take over his practice when he retired.

Joel cleared his throat.

“Law isn’t for everyone, John. And not everyone makes it in,” he said, barely raising a brow as he looked over at her dad. “Although, I’m sure if Mandi had wanted to and had applied, she would have been accepted.”

Wow. Had her dad been rejected from law school back in his day? Why hadn’t she heard about that? Did Nana know? Or had her son applied without telling her...in case he didn’t make it in. It would be just like him to go about things in a way that allowed him to cover up failure and save face. John dropped the subject. That said something.

Joel took a third chair from the corner of the room and placed it next to her. Mandi frowned. Her father uncrossed his legs.

“Is someone else joining us?” he asked, sitting straighter.

“Sorry if I kept you all waiting,” Gray said, as he entered the room without bothering to knock.

Neither Mandi nor John said anything. Joel greeted Grayson by his full name and motioned for him to sit. Why did Gray’s being here surprise her? Of course Nana would have left something for Gray to remember her by. She had treated him like family and he’d been good to her. Mandi would always be grateful that he had been a good neighbor to Nana and had kept an eye out for her. It was just that... Mandi hadn’t expected to see him today. Seeing him did things to her. It shook the ground beneath her feet. Gray’s eyes met hers and she quickly looked away and focused on Mr. Burkitt.

“What’s he doing here?” John asked, not bothering to mask his disapproval. Joel shot her father a professional smile.

“Everyone here is mentioned in the will and, although I had intended to meet with Dr. Zale separately, I realized late last night that your mother had specifically requested a group reading. Dr. Zale was kind enough to adjust his schedule this morning at the last minute. Today is about your mother’s wishes, John. Not yours. And now that we’re all here, let’s get started. This shouldn’t take long.” Joel shuffled through some papers, straightened the ones he needed, then began reading the initial formality and a list of animal and children’s charities she had bequeathed money to. “For you, John, your mother left you the sum of ten thousand dollars.”

“Ten?”

Mandi and Gray exchanged looks. Her father wasn’t shocked in a positive way. Nope. His face turned a purply shade of red. The sum total Nana had given to charity was more than twice what she’d give to her own son.

“That’s what it says, John. As for you, Mandi, you now own half of her house and all of its contents, including—your grandmother has specified—the antique pottery bowl handed down from her side of the family and all of her jewelry.”

The color rose in her father’s neck and his expression tightened. Direct mention of that bowl was a definite dig on Nana’s part. She knew her son well and he’d nagged her one too many times about getting it appraised and possibly selling it. After all, a chunk of pottery didn’t really serve a purpose in his eyes. He didn’t value history. He only worried about the future.

“I assume, then, the other half of the house is mine,” John said. He seemed mollified enough. Half a house softened the blow the measly ten grand had given him.

Mandi didn’t understand him. She never would. Ten thousand would make a huge dent in her graduate school debt, not to mention credit card. Not that she’d take it even if he offered. Money gave him control. She did learn from history and she wasn’t letting him ever have a say in her future.

“Actually,” Joel said, nudging his glasses higher on his nose, studying the document for confirmation, then looking up at Gray. “It says here that the other half of the house belongs to you, Dr. Zale. And that the property cannot be sold or leased without both parties agreeing to the arrangement.”

“What?” The question shot out of her father and Gray simultaneously. Mandi had no words. She couldn’t wrap her head around what had just been said. Gray owned half of the house? They shared Nana’s house?

“This isn’t happening,” she muttered, sinking in her chair. She clutched her purse and closed her eyes. Why, Nana? Why? Her father stood up and braced his hands on the edge of the desk.

“Are you sure? She was old. Were you there when she wrote this up? Was she coherent? Was she of sound mind?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Mandi said.

“Sit down, John. And yes, I’m sure. And for the record, I’ve never known your mother to be anything but sharp and sound minded.”

John sat, shifting his weight to one side and grinding his jaw. Gray pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head for a moment, the way he did whenever he needed to gather his thoughts. Mandi would bet her life he wasn’t comfortable with the situation. She knew him well enough to know he didn’t want or expect anything from her grandmother. He took a deep breath and let it out, then leaned forward in his chair.

“Does she explain why? Like, what I’m supposed to do with it or what she wants done with it?” Gray asked.

“There is a little more. A note. It says, To Dr. Grayson Zale, I leave you half of my property, to be shared with my granddaughter, Mandi Rivers. I hope you can carry on our work protecting the beach and saving the turtles. You were like a grandson to me and we were more alike than you’ll ever know. We cared about the same things in life, you and I. Keep it all close to your heart.”

There was a moment of silence as Joel linked his fingers.

“That’s all she has, apart from stating that anything not mentioned specifically should be assumed to belong to Mandi.”

“I share a house with Gray.” It was all she could say. It was surreal. Cruel. Nana wouldn’t do that to her.

“If you’re done, then I’m leaving,” John said. He scowled as he stormed out of the room, but Mandi saw his eyes beginning to water and his chin quiver when he thought they could see only his back. Her heart went out to him. The man had his faults, but he was human. No doubt he was upset about the money, but his pride and feelings had been hurt, too. They had to have been. Was this Nana’s way of trying to teach him what mattered in life? That it wasn’t about money and possessions?

“These are for the two of you.” Burkitt held out two copies of Nana’s house keys.

Gray had a key to the house.

She really needed to go back to bed.

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