Social media was already propagated with its version of what happened, the royal watchers posting photos of the destroyed brunch site and others sharing it. Some posted photos of the royal couple from some other event and claimed it was Sea Blue Beach.
But theGazettewas telling the truth.
Last night, she’d kept checking her phone while skating with Caleb in case she missed a call from Floyd. Then while sipping a post-skate chai tea with him at One More Cup, she glanced at it every thirty seconds.
At one point, he settled his hand on hers. “It’s going to be fine.”
Now, pedaling toward the paper, she spotted the paperboys on the porch, folding and sorting. Owen met her on the sidewalk before she could stop the bike.
“You’re not going to like this.” He handed her a copy, then aimed his flashlight on the front page. “You might want to get off the bike first.”
“Owen, please don’t tell me.” Her bike clattered against the pavement.
“The ads are missing.”
* * *
Then . . .
During the school day, she’d almost forget. Caught up with her friends, classes, and sports, life seemed perfectly normal.
Then she’d walk through the parking lot under stark, bare trees toward her pre-owned yellow Jeep and remember.
Mom was gone.
Entering the quiet, dark kitchen after practice, she remembered.
Mom was gone.
No matter how many lights she turned on, or how loud she blasted the music, the house felt empty and cold.
Mom was gone.
When she sat with Dad at the grief counselor’s, Emery definitely remembered.
Mom was gone.
Tonight, as she walked through the kitchen door, her phone blared from her backpack. She didn’t recognize the number, but every now and then, one of Mom’s old friends called her. To check in. But it only brought it all up again...
She answered with slow “Hello?” as she walked toward the large pane window, where a month ago Mom lay in a hospice bed, watching the summer green surrender to fall colors.
Now the trees were bare, and the colors faded to gray and brown.
“Hey, Em, it’s me.”
Caleb Ransom. Emery dropped to the swivel chair by the window and watched a passing car through watery eyes.
“I thought your sister tossed your phone in the Gulf.”
“So you read my message?”
“Yeah, but—” She’d discarded all her Sea Blue Beach memories—and Caleb Ransom. She still had a message on her phone from Delilah, waiting to be answered.
“It’s okay. I just wanted you to know I’m really sorry about your mom. She was always so nice to me.”
“She was nice to me too.” She laughed through soft tears. Caleb didn’t say anything, just waited. “H-how’s school?” she said. “How’s football?”
She knew a little bit—Mr. Star Quarterback—from sneaking over to his Facebook Wall after his “I miss you” message.
