Read More Than Us Online

Authors: Renee Ericson

More Than Us (7 page)

“I love you, Foster.” Her voice cracks, and she hiccups. “Please.”

“I love you, too, Evelyn,” I utter softly. “But I’m so…I’m so pissed off right now.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Yes,” I groan, “and that prick, too. I wanted to break his neck.”

“So did I.”

“I would have liked to have seen that.”

“Please open the door,” she begs.

I close my eyes and try to imagine myself doing as she asks and us embracing, but it’s not possible. All I see running through my mind is her with Gerard. It’s a strong visual, causing me equally robust and visceral feelings. As much as I love her, there is no resolve for me right now, especially on the eve of our wedding. There’s too much contradiction for me to wrap my heart and mind around.

“I need some time to cool off. You should go back to your room and get some rest.”

There’s a long pause before she replies, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

It’s evident what she’s really asking.
Are we still getting married?

Flooded by fury and confusion, there is no clarity in my mind to this question, one that should be surrounded with love.

“I love you, Evelyn. Get some sleep.”

“Okay, Foster,” she stutters through a jagged breath. “Make sure to put some ice on your hand. I love you.”

She goes, doing as I asked, and a piece of my heart flies with her as her footsteps fade into nothingness.

 

ELEVEN

Evelyn

Fold once, corner to corner, and then again with the other corner.

Determination will work. It has to.

Dawn broke nearly an hour ago, and I haven’t slept a wink. The minute I returned to my room after leaving Foster’s door, I paced, running everything through my head over and over again until the scenario exhausted every thought and emotion I had left in me. When I tried to settle into bed to hopefully get a few hours of sleep, I was restless. There was still so much unresolved between Foster and me, and a part of me was worried about what morning would bring.

It was an unknown.

All I could do was wish and hope.

That’s exactly how I’ve spent my last hours, hoping and folding paper cranes and building a wish.

The front desk obliged my odd request for reams of paper when I used up every foldable page I could find in the room, including the small notepad by the phone. The floor is now covered in birds. I have no idea how many, and I will not pause in order to count them. It’s a daunting task, creating a thousand cranes in such a short period of time, but I refuse to accept the impossible. At least the paper cuts have been minimal.

A loud knock echoes from the door, bringing me out of my concentrated state.

“Rise and shine, single lady,” Wolfgang singsongs when I’m mid fold on my umpteenth crane. “I hope you got your beauty sleep. Big day ahead.”

A heaviness pushes down upon me. I have an entire day scheduled, my man of honor is at my door, and I have guests and family to attend to, but I haven’t spoken to nor heard from Foster since last night. My heart is in a state of unrest, yet time has moved forward without a care for the minutes needed to repair the damage.

There will be questions I might not have answers to.

There will be answers no one will accept. I don’t want to accept them.

With a crane between my fingers, I shuffle through a pile of birds and open the door for Wolfgang. “Hi.”

He lowers the sunglasses from his face. “Oh. It’s worse with them off. I was hoping the luggage under your eyes was just a shadow from my lenses. What did you do all night? Walk through the bushes with the natives?”

“I wish.” I hold open the door. “C’mon in.”

Wolfgang enters the room and comes to a full stop at the end of the hallway. “Okay, what kind of intervention do I need to have with you?”

“It’s a long story”—plunking down on the bed, I make another crease in the work-in-progress crane—“with an unfinished ending.”

“Here.” He offers me a white travel cup. “Nonfat lattes fix everything.”

“Not this.” I finish the bird and take the coffee. “Thanks. This is sweet of you.”

Wolfgang plops next to me and places his arm over my shoulder. “Today’s your day. Please tell me this is just bridal jitters and not your attempt at a decoration overhaul on the ceremony. I love the birds, but you already picked out the flowers.”

As I lift my chin, my eyes wander to the wedding dress hanging on a rack, surrounded by a pathetic display of paper cranes. They are a miserable attempt to compete with what that dress represents. All morning, I’ve been running from a feeling of hopelessness, and in a flash, it’s slamming into me.

Tears form quickly, bubbling over and streaming down my face.

“Oh no, short stuff,” Wolfgang soothes. “I was just kidding. You can have the birds.”

“It’s not that.” I wipe under my eye. “It’s Foster. He hates me.”

“Say what?”

“There was a misunderstanding, a horrible one, and he’s not speaking to me.”

“That’s nonsense. How could anything have happened between the time I dropped you off last night until now? Don’t tell me he came over for a quickie.”

I sigh. “I wish.”

Over the next few minutes, I retell the entire ordeal about Gerard, my stupidity, and Foster decking him in return. About how I asked my once-trusted family friend to leave the island and how Foster was so pissed that he wouldn’t even see me.

Once I’m through, the tears have dried, and I’m barely holding on to my coffee cup, having relived the emotions again in one fell swoop.

Wolfgang takes me in his arms, pets my head, and allows me to wet the shoulder of his shirt with my straggling tears.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Wolfgang says quietly. “He’s just a man who feels betrayed, and he wants to protect his woman. It’s all very primitive. He was swinging his barbaric club around—and rightfully so. I’m sure he’s cooled off by now.”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t reached out to me at all. I was hoping he would, but I’m starting to lose…” I sniff, choking back the words I don’t want to say.

“Shh. We’ll fix it.” He leans over and picks up one of my cranes. “Or maybe the birds will.”

Wolfgang’s phone rings.

“I bet that’s my mother,” I guess.

He pulls the ringing cell from his pocket. “You’re psychic.”

“She’s calling about breakfast. I can’t go, Wolfie. Look at me; I’m a mess.”

“Don’t worry.” Wolfgang pecks my cheek. “I’ll take care of it.”

He answers the phone and does just what he promised.

Foster

Curling and uncurling my fingers, I examine the knuckles in the natural light streaming through the thin curtains. The swelling has gone down considerably—thanks to the ice that was delivered to my door, which I’m sure Evelyn had sent over—and only a faint shade of pink remains.

All night, I was at war with myself over what I had seen between Gerard and Evelyn. I believe her about what happened—she’s never been one to lie to me about anything—but the thought of another man touching her like that boils my blood to no end.

We’re supposed to be married at sundown, and I hate the idea of saying vows to each other when there is so much unwanted tension between us. Weddings are unions of love and commitment, and my head is still swimming with jealousy and bitterness.

One thing has remained the same—I love her. That hasn’t changed.

I’m not angry. I’m distraught with how we ended up like this.

I need to call her.

There’s a knock at the door, which is surprising since Graham and Parker aren’t supposed to be here for another two hours. We have a tee time scheduled as a little male bonding before the ceremony.

“Coming.” I proceed to the entrance and open the door.

“Good morning, Foster,” Wolfgang says. He enters the room without another word. “How’s the hand?”

“I take it, you spoke with Evelyn?”

“Yes, we chatted a bit.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a white folded piece of paper and tosses it in my direction. I catch it.

“Thought you might want to know what she’s been up to.”

I expect a note, but it’s a crane, just like the ones I folded for the day I asked Evelyn to marry me. “She made this?”

“Yes, and a slew of others. Evidently, she has some quota to reach if her dreams are going to come true. She’s still making them back in her room, like some kind of crazed and caffeinated workaholic.”

“A thousand cranes for one wish.” I plop onto the bed. “Did she say what she was wishing for?”

“A happily ever after. Apparently, she’s not sure about the ending of your story, and she is hoping a little origami magic will help get the one she wants.” Wolfgang pulls out the chair from under the desk, places it in front of me, and takes a seat. “She sent Gerard away. He left the island. I spoke with the front desk, and he checked out shortly after midnight.”

I nod.

“That girl loves you. You know that, right?”

I turn the crane over. “Yes.”

“Then, why won’t you talk to her? She feels awful. All she wants to do is marry you and have, like, ten thousand of your geeky babies. She couldn’t give two shits about anything else.”

“I plan to talk to her.” My fingertip taps the beak of the crane created by my fiancée’s talented hands. It’s a simple craft made with so much passion; it’s the only way Evelyn does anything—with all that she is. “Everything just feels out of our control. I wish it was just her and me and nothing else in the world.”

My last words melt into my soul, and a calm comes over me.

All that matters is her and me.

The world might be complex, but our connection is straightforward. When it comes to who we are, we’ve always been…simple by design. I love her, and she loves me. It’s only when outside forces come into play, when we let them, that our connection gets messy.

I bolt up from the bed and pick up the phone, calling the front of the house. While it’s ringing, I ask Wolfgang, “Are you up for making wishes come true?”

 

TWELVE

Foster

Waiting is the worst. I’ve been under this tree, sitting and figuring out exactly what I want to say, for over twenty minutes, and it feels like an eternity.

When I’m close to losing my mind—or maybe ten minutes later—Wolfgang’s voice bellows in my direction, speaking words of nonsense to Evelyn to keep her moving. He promised me that she would have no clue about their destination, so I’m not surprised when I hear her giving him hell for dragging her to the other side of the resort.

“This is ridiculous, Wolfie,” Evelyn insists. “I need to get back to my room.”

“Why? To make more birds?” he teases her. “Honey, you need fresh air more than bloody fingers.”

“What if Foster calls or comes looking for me?”

“Just sit your ass down.”

They are close, so close that if I peeked out from behind the tree, I’m sure I would see them. It takes everything in me to stay put and resist looking.

“I’m not sitting on the ground,” Evelyn argues. “This isn’t the time for a stroll in the park and camping. Have you lost your damn mind?”

“Just sit down.”

Evelyn doesn’t retort, and I imagine my fiancée crossing her arms and giving a full-blown stare-down to her man of honor.

“Fine,” Wolfgang huffs. “Stand if you like. Just back it up a bit to the tree.”

“Should I put an apple on my head? Are you planning on using me for target practice?” She grunts. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now. Foster isn’t speaking to me. My mother is going to shit a brick if she doesn’t see me soon, and I have guests waiting for a wedding that I’m not sure is going to take place.”

A sharp pinch nips at my chest. Not caring about the timing discussed with Wolfgang, I blurt out, “Evelyn, sit down.”

“Foster?” Evelyn gasps.

“Whoa,” Wolfgang sputters. “Stay where you are.”

“But—”

“He wants to talk to you,” he assures her. “Just sit down.”

“Foster? Are you here?”

“Sit down, Evelyn,” I urge. “We need to talk.”

After a shuffle of fabric and a few
um
s on behalf of Evelyn, Wolfgang says, “I’m going to take a walk while you two chat. I’ll be right back.”

I listen to his footsteps fade away, and I count to twenty. This is a private conversation, and I want to ensure that she and I are alone, which is difficult to assess without the risk of glimpsing her. I can’t see her yet. It’s not time.

“Foster?” Evelyn asks. “Are you going to say something?”

“Is he gone?”

“Yes. I can’t see him at all.”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Stay where you are, but reach out your right hand behind you. Don’t turn around though.”

“Okay.”

I search for her outstretched palm near the roots of the tree. When her fingertips connect with mine, it’s like a part of me that I felt missing is suddenly right back where it’s supposed to be.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I was livid.”

“You have to know that—”

“That you didn’t do anything wrong. That you love me.” I squeeze her hand. “And you have to know that I love you, too.”

Releasing her grip, I gather the paper crane that Wolfgang brought to my room not long ago, and I set it next to where her fingers remain between us.

“Are you returning this?” she questions, drawing the paper shape in her direction.

“Yes,” I exhale. “I don’t need it, and neither do you. Your wish is my wish. They are one in the same…and will be forever. It’s one I asked for a year ago, and the moment you said yes, it was set into motion.” Tipping my head back against the bark of the tree, I ask, “Did you ever question us, or was it just the wedding?”

“Just the wedding,” she replies quickly. “I know it’s selfish of me—”

“No, it’s not. It’s smart.” I smile to myself. “You are definitely smarter than me when it comes to how we get married, and I’m not going to deny that fact any longer than necessary.”

“What are you saying?”

Reaching out into the space between us, I find her fingers waiting patiently for mine. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before they’re married. I think, subconsciously, it’s the reason I wouldn’t see you last night, despite my anger, and it’s the reason we’re meeting like this now. The world is full of outside elements that can wrongly influence what matters most, and that’s you and me. I want to take away those distractions.”

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