Page 113 of Head Under Water

After a moment, she holds out a small, black box. Bigger than a ring box, but I suspect there’s jewelry inside.

My mouth goes dry.

“What’s this about?” I raise the lid and stare down at a delicate gold heart resting on a thin chain.

“It was Ruth’s,” Mom says, and when she does, I recognize it at once. She didn’t wear it often, only on special occasions, but I’d know it anywhere. She takes the box from my hand and unspools the chain. “She’d want you to have it.”

Tears sting my eyes. There’s a tickle in the back of my throat.

“You were the daughter she never had,” Margie says, and when I look over, her face is crumpled with tears too. “And she loved you, Opal.” She squeezes Will’s hand and reaches for Cory, who’s been lingering in a chair in the corner. “She loved you all so much.”

“And it will never not hurt that she’s gone,” Mom says, bitterness in her tone. “And we will never not miss her. But she’d want you to have this. And she’d want you to be happy. Wherever you go. Whatever you do.”

I realize then what she’s saying.

What I think she’s saying, anyway.

She thinks I might leave. She was the reason I came home, and now things aren’t the same. Even though Will and I are together, she still worries I’ll run away from all of this. Protect myself from the pain of it if I can.

Maybe it’s what the old me would’ve done, but that girl feels distant now.

Scary in a different way.

She missed out on so much.

I let Mom wrap the necklace around my neck, lifting my hair so she can clasp it. Her hands tremble more than they used to.

Mom looks at Will. “I know you’re usually the gift giver today, but I hope you don’t mind if I take this one.”

Today.

I check my watch. The date.

I almost forgot.

Today’s the anniversary of Dad’s death. I’ve been so distracted I nearly…

Hang on.

My mind goes fuzzy with radio static. I stare at Will, then Mom. “What do you mean? Will never gave me gifts on the anniversary. You did.”

When I glance back, Will’s pinning Mom with a look I don’t quite understand. “You knew,” he says, his voice powerless.

“Well, it wasn’t the tooth fairy,” Mom says simply, her expression softening. “Of course I knew.” She gathers my hands in hers. “And I should’ve said something sooner. I let you believe all those years of gifts were from me. And I shouldn’t have, because they weren’t. I would’ve admitted it if you’d asked, but I should’ve just corrected you anyway. I could never quite find the right way to bring it up. Your dad, this day, any of it.”

“You were the one.” My eyes find Will’s again, slowly, as the pieces come together in my mind. He holds my gaze. All the years I thought Mom was trying to comfort me in the only way she knew how. I thought she wanted me to know she was there, even if we could never actually talk about Dad and how badly I wish I’d gotten to know him better.

And all along, it was Will.

The boy who was always looking out for me.

“In college?” I study him. Banks, too, let me believe the gifts were from him. “The bracelet.”

Will’s expression is uncomfortable. Soft. Like he’s worried I might be mad. He cocks his head to the side, draws in one corner of his lips. “I…just wanted you to be okay.”

“You were, what? Five? Six? We were kids when it started. You remembered the date and bought me gifts every year? And you never said a thing? Will…”

Still not quite confirming it, he just stares at me with these gentle eyes that feel oceans deep. Like I could swim in their depths, get lost in their secrets.