Chapter 38
C
an a marriage just end like that? From a million little paper cuts? From a paintbrush filled with pink paint? Tiny threads of resentment had weaved into one giant tapestry in Bailey’s mind, but the image that threatened to unravel it all was her husband painting a baby’s room in their house, which wasn’t really their house, for a baby that wasn’t their baby. Without speaking, because she couldn’t, there were no words, just a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her, Bailey turned from the scene in front of her and crossed over the bridge to their watch room. Normally she preferred to walk outside and enter the tower from below. It was nice to have a separation of home and work. But at the moment all she wanted to do was pack a bag and get out of Dodge. Brad followed her, dripping pink paint as he did, calling her name, softly at first and then almost shouting it. He knew. He could feel her leaving. Marriage was that too, tiny clicks and blinks, and sighs, and energy that you could feel, predict. One of their biggest fights was caused when Bailey rolled her eyes at something he said. It was also the greatest make-up sex she’d ever had. That was marriage too, a sudden wave of passion that would carry you over to the next moment, and then the next, and then the next. But she didn’t have anything left to carry her to the next moment. The rowboat of their marriage was sinking fast.
Brad watched her pack a bag, pacing behind her in the circular room. He asked questions she couldn’t answer. “Where are you going?” “How long will you be gone?” “What can I do?”
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
Please, baby, please
. Bailey turned and looked at Brad. She wished she had the answers. She wished she could comfort him, make all of this go away. But she couldn’t, she simply didn’t know how.
Yellow,
she wanted to say.
We’ll always have the color yellow
. But when she said it in her head it sounded melodramatic and silly, so instead she said nothing at all.
Jake was waiting outside, standing on the patio. He saw her suitcase, then locked eyes with her.
“I don’t want to be with Angel,” he said. “I want to be with you.” Bailey smiled, a tired, flattered little smile. “I didn’t want to do those stupid ghost things. But it was harmless, right? A few recordings—music boxes and a woman laughing—a duplicate urn, a few wires cut to make the tower light freak out, the wrong battery in the tide clock. I swear I wouldn’t have done anything to really hurt anyone. And my feelings for you . . . They were totally real. I mean it, Bailey. I think I’m in love with you.” It was absurd, listening to his speech while her husband stood behind them, dumbfounded, still dripping little splotches of pink paint wherever he went. Bailey brushed past Jake and entered the main room. Jake and then Brad followed. Allissa was still curled up on the couch, her cell phone clutched in hand.
“Listen,” she said. She pressed Speaker and played a message. Greg’s voice filled the little room.
“Honey,” he said. “Honey, honey, honey. I love you. I love our baby. I’m coming. Don’t go anywhere, I’m coming. I’m taking a vacation. We’ll stay out there together, then come home together. Having a family with you is all I’ve ever wanted. Nothing else matters. Do you hear me? You and this baby are all I’ve ever wanted.”
Bailey looked at Brad. He stared back, and between them, it was clear. She was listening to the very words she wished he would have said to her.
“That’s how I feel,” Jake said. “About you.”
Allissa sat up and straightened her long, blond hair, now sticking up like a science experiment. “Do I know you?” she said.
“He was talking to me,” Bailey said. “Not everything is about you.”
“You’re not getting my wife,” Brad said.
Allissa looked confused. “I don’t want her,” she said. There was a loud pounding on the door. Brad answered it and came back with the Coast Guard.
“Is it the light again?” Bailey asked. For a split second, she wanted the light to be malfunctioning. She wanted the place to be filled with ghosts, she wanted Olivia around to save their marriage. Or she wanted the storm to be the biggest one ever, she wanted the Coast Guard to forbid her to leave her home, her husband.
“We just thought you guys should know there’s a storm coming in, and it’s going to be a doozy.” He glanced at Bailey’s suitcase. “If you’re going somewhere, you’ll want to get a move on, soon.”
“I’m leaving now,” Bailey said. She picked up the suitcase.
Thanks a lot, guards. So much for stepping in to save me.
Bailey turned to Allissa. “Can I borrow your yacht?”
“No, no, I don’t think so,” Allissa said.
“I’ll take you,” Jake said.
“Over my dead body,” Brad said.
“There’s a potential buyer captaining the ferry today,” the Coast Guard said. “I’m sure he’d take you across.” So that was that, Bailey thought. The Coast Guard was definitely not on the side of romance.
“Great,” Bailey said. “Can you give him a call and see if he’ll pick me up?” Maybe he would say no. Maybe someone besides Brad would try and talk her out of this. The Coast Guard got on his radio and spoke into it quietly.
“He’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes,” he said.
“Bailey, please,” Brad said. “I’m begging you.”
“Brad, I just—”
“Let me come with you.”
“Not right now.”
“Then wait here,” Brad said.
“I can’t just—”
“Three minutes, Bails. Just three minutes.” Brad looked absolutely tortured. Finally, Bailey nodded. He ran out of the room. When he returned, he was carrying a box. He looked at her and answered her unspoken question.
“My journals,” he said. “Or diaries, if you prefer.” He gave her a sad little smile. “It’s the only thing I can give you right now,” he said. “Bailey, please.” It was so strange to be in this place, a new marital territory, one in which she was pulling away and Brad was the one desperate to pull her back in. She nodded and took the box.
The new captain was having trouble starting the ferry. That was the trouble with ownership. Even ships got used to having one main person to take care of them. Whatever sweet touch Captain Jack had with the ferry, this new guy didn’t. He hadn’t spent years with her, he didn’t know if she needed a little kick or shorter thrusts of the engine, or maybe some kind words whispered before turning the key. He didn’t know her capacity, how she performed in storms, how to toot her horn just so. It was just like a marriage. Bailey couldn’t understand how married couples were even tempted to cheat. If you were with the right mate to begin with, they were the ones that knew how to get you started, how to keep you humming, how you were going to do when storms hit.
God, listen to her. Panic gripped her. Was she making a mistake she could never take back? Did she really, truly want to leave? No, she just wanted the blinding pain to go away. She loved the lighthouse, the keeper’s house, and she loved Brad and the life they’d started to make here. Bailey had to admit it, she even missed Captain Jack. She realized they hadn’t even asked the Coast Guard to arrest Jake or question where Angel and Jack were. None of it really mattered to Bailey right now. Bailey sat on one of the benches next to the box of journals. While the new captain tinkered with the engine, Bailey grabbed the first notebook and began to leaf through it. At first she thought she was seeing things.
Bailey has an incredible laugh. I heard her with a customer. Whatever he said struck her as funny, and she just threw her head back and the sound of her laughter filled our little coffee shop and I looked around and everyone, everyone was laughing with her. How did I get so lucky? What if some customer falls madly in love with her and steals her from me?
Bailey is pissed. I think it’s all the traveling, we’ve been to Ireland, Scotland, England, France, Italy, and now Spain. I don’t blame her for being grumpy, but I hate when she’s pissed at me. And what’s with all the throwing? What an arm! She should have played baseball.
Bailey thinks she has big hands, but I think they’re beautiful. Especially when they’re wrapped around me. Same goes for her tongue, but if I tell her that she might stop doing it out of spite.
I don’t think Bailey likes California. Neither of us can surf either. She’s getting antsy. It might be time to go soon.
What was I thinking? Sweaters? Bailey looks fabulous in them, I think she’s allergic.
Bailey put the notebook down and grabbed the next. Again, every entry was about her. What she wore, how she looked, and how she treated him that day. Here were the little moments of their life, their marriage, word by word, sentence by sentence, page by page. Bailey stood up. She was going to go back. She had been through too much with Brad to give up now. Together, they would face this. Brad Jordan loved her. She had never once stopped loving him. Flaws and all, they were meant to be together. Destiny had brought them together, the universe had given her this wonderful gift, this incredible man. What was she doing? The boat’s engine suddenly roared to life.
“Got her!” the captain said. But a few seconds later, the engine died again, and they just sat there. Bailey closed her eyes and imagined a dramatic ending. What if there was a massive tugboat behind them, and while trying to back up the ferry he slammed into it with a sickening thud? Bailey would be thrown forward like a weightless rag doll. The captain would hit his head on one of the benches before crumpling to the floor. It would all happen so fast. The ferry would begin to tilt. Everything would roll to the right. Brad’s notebooks would careen past her like out-of-control ice skaters.
“Brad.” Even though he wouldn’t be able to hear her, she would shout his name, then pull herself up to one of the windows and be greeted by the sight of the river filling the windows. She would leap into action.
“We’re sinking. Life jackets!” Bailey wouldn’t be afraid to die. Wouldn’t be afraid to see the light Brad had fallen in love with.
But if anything happened to her now, Brad would be a ruined man. He wouldn’t even know that she’d seen the notebooks. He would blame himself for the rest of his life. She would be a hero. Claw her way to the top of the boat, dragging the amateur captain with her. And given that she only had two hands, she would only be able to take one of the notebooks with her. The rest would forever be submerged in an icy grave.
Panic would sober the captain up. They would be forced to jump. The Coast Guard would rush to the rescue, small life rafts would be positioned below them. In the distance she would hear Brad shouting, his voice almost hoarse. He would be rowing toward her in his leaky little boat—wishing desperately he’d heeded her advice about a Jet Ski. She would want to shout back, but she would have to save all her energy for the jump.
The captain would have no problem. He would jump before she could even say any parting words. He would land perfectly in the life raft, look at her, and give her an encouraging thumbs up. “Jump,” the Coast Guard would yell at her, “jump.”
The ferry was going to explode.
“Jump,”
she would hear again. This time, it would be Brad. Only then would she jump.
The impact of her body slamming into the freezing water would hit Bailey hard. She would be going too fast to grab onto anything, too fast to stop, and within seconds she would be completely underwater. She would struggle to reverse her direction, swim up, and hit her head on a large, hard object. Pain would soar through her, and she would be pulled under once again. Suddenly, she would able to see underwater. Everything would be calm, her head just slightly buzzing now, and she would be surprised how clear the water was, almost as if a light were shining underneath. Suddenly, a wrinkled hand would reach out for her, and a familiar face would hover above her. “Olivia,” Bailey would say, surprised she could talk underwater. And then, everything would go black.
“Um. Hello?” Bailey glanced up. The captain was chewing on a straw. “I think we’re out of gas.”
“Oh,” Bailey said.
“I mean, you can like sit there if you want. But I’m getting off.”
“Me too,” Bailey said.
She took the box and exited the ferry. She looked at the lighthouse. Smoke was coming out of the chimney. The sky was dark early, and the wind was picking up strength. It had yet to start raining, but in the distance was a rumble of thunder. Bailey walked a few steps, then put the box down and lay down on the rocks. She imagined she were a vessel, before there was a light to warn her away from the shoals, crashed out on the rocks. She didn’t know how long she was there before she heard feet crunching on the rocks, coming toward her. She closed her eyes. She felt him lie down beside her.
“Nice night for a nap,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. She felt his fingertips touch hers.
“Bailey,” he said. “This isn’t my life.” With her other hand, Bailey pawed the ground for a weapon. Broken glass, anything she might use to kill him.
“You wanted to live here. You—”
“No,” Brad said. “Those are just the details. You are my life.”