Eight Days in the Sun Read online

  “Five years is forever.”

  “It’s not, darling. For someone who’s lived in a shell for the past few years, it’ll fly by.”

  “First you compare me to a barnacle and now you make me sound like a crab.”

  He chuckles. “I was talking about me. It applies to both of us, though.” He puts his hands on my shoulders and takes a deep breath. “So what are your thoughts?”

  “It’s a stupid idea.”

  “Never said it was brilliant. Just said it’s all I got. Can you at least consider it?”

  It is something…this plan of his. Some shred of hope to temper the pain in my heart. “Yes.”

  His smile is so bright and pure I have to match it. “Yes?”

  “Yes, Mason. If things are right, I’ll see you five years from tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” He kisses me. It’s a tender kiss, soft and slow and passionate.

  We both stand. The stars sparkle tonight. They look so close I bet I can reach out and pluck one.

  “Is that the big dipper?” he asks, pointing to the constellation.

  “It’s there,” I say, moving his hand. “See the star in the middle? The really bright one?”

  “The North Star.”

  “Yeah, do me a favor, Mason. Look for it sometimes when you’re out in the world. It’s only visible in the northern hemisphere, and you can’t always see it, but try to find it sometimes, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ll be looking for it too.”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart, darling.” We both take in the amazing starry sky. I think this is the kind of night that inspired Van Gogh.

  He takes my hand and leads me back toward the fence. “There’s a heart-shaped hot tub waiting for us. We should get back, don’t you think?”

  Chapter 19

  Mason

  We talked and held each other all night. When sunrise came, we both left for our separate rooms to pack. Her flight’s at ten AM so she’s checking out early. I’m leaving when she does. There is no way I can stay here a minute longer without her. I do a quick check of my room to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind. My phone rings just as I’m about to shut the door.

  “Hey, sis, what’s up?”

  “What’s the deal not returning my call? I left you a voicemail yesterday.”

  “Sorry I missed it. How’s school?” Dana had opted to start in the summer and get a few prerequisites out of the way. The timing worked out for both of us to start a new course in our lives.

  “Amazing. I can’t wait to show you around.”

  The plan is for me to drive home, pack up the last suitcase, hand over the keys to the renters, and catch a flight to San Diego where I’ll spend two days with Dana before reporting for duty. “Me too.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Do you hate me for forcing you go on this trip or do you realize how awesome I am?”

  I glance out the window. Kiran is walking along the beach. The breeze plays with her long, dark hair. Guess she wanted one last walk.

  “Mason?” Dana says.

  I realize I’ve been quiet. “Sorry. You’re awesome.”

  “You okay, bro?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “’Cause I didn’t expect you to admit my awesomeness so quickly.”

  “I’m good, Dana. I had a great trip. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”

  “Okay. Love you. Drive safe.”

  “Will do.”

  An hour later, Kiran and I are packed and checking out. Her teacher, Mrs. Waters, is working the front desk today. I try not to laugh at the way Kiran blushes.

  “You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?” I ask her.

  “I’d rather catch a cab.”

  I understand her reasoning. All we’ve done for the last twenty-four hours is say good-bye. It’s in every kiss, every hug, and every touch. We don’t need to continue that at the departure counter.

  “We never made it to the revolving restaurant at the Wilshire,” she says, staring at her keycard.

  “It’ll be the first thing on our list next time.”

  “Sure.”

  She’s not convinced about the five-year plan. I wish I could show her it’s not something I cooked up to appease her. I’m invested and sincere. I slide my room key to Mrs. Waters.

  “How was your stay?” she asks.

  “Good.” Good isn’t the right word. But right now, I’m too tired for anything else.

  Kiran gives me a soft smile.

  “It was so good I’d like to make another reservation.” The words tumble out of my mouth without much thought, but it feels right. Especially when I see her smile brighten.

  “That’s wonderful. What dates?”

  “Five years from today in the Sweetheart’s Suite under the names Mason Cutler and Kiran Shenoy.”

  Mrs. Waters laughs nervously as if I’m joking. “I’m afraid I can’t make a reservation that far out. The computer won’t let me.”

  This won’t do. I want a permanent placeholder for us like a bookmark in the middle of a novel. The story hasn’t ended. To be continued. “We’ll prepay. You can put it in the computer when it’s time.”

  “I’m sorry, hon, that’s not our policy.”

  I turn to the woman, her face kind but unyielding. “Ma’am, can you find it in your heart to break the rules just this one time?”

  “I wish I could, young man. It’ll be years until I can book your stay.”

  “I trust you, ma’am.” I put my arm around Kiran and pull her close to me. “We both do.”

  She shakes her head. “Why you don’t just call us in a few years?”

  That would make sense. Except I want someone else to hold this date for Kiran and me in this moment. The plan doesn’t seem as silly if it’s written down somewhere.

  “Mrs. Waters,” Kiran chimes in, her voice low. “Jane Austen was your favorite author, right?”

  The woman looks confused. “Yes, but what does that have to do with this?”

  “Do you believe Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy would have gotten together without Mrs. Gardiner?”

  Mrs. Waters removes her glasses and considers Kiran’s question. They might as well be speaking a foreign language as far as I’m concerned.

  “It’s an interesting premise.”

  “My point is that Elizabeth and Darcy needed her to bring them together. Just as Mason and I need you now. So please, make an exception to the rules.” She slides closer to me. “Be the hero in our story, Mrs. Waters.”

  The woman sighs. Not a frustrated get-the-hell-out-of-here sigh, but the kind of sigh girls make when they’re thinking of something good. I almost want to high-five her. Instead, I put my arm around her and kiss her temple.

  The woman rifles through a drawer forever. Finally, she takes out a sheet of paper. She slides it toward me. “You’ll have to fill this out. I’ll make sure it gets in the system as soon as I’m allowed.”

  When we’re checked out and our future stay is in the safe hands of Mrs. Waters, I pull Kiran in my arms one last time and kiss her deeply. “I’ll have to read Jane Austen because you really persuaded her.”

  She taps a finger against her lips. “Persuasion might have been a better example.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  The cab she’s called pulls up. I load her luggage in the trunk.

  “Good-bye, Mason.” She places her hand over my heart. “Don’t forget what I said.”

  “I won’t, Kiran. I’ll look for the North Star, and I swear I’ll protect myself.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and run my thumb across the birthmark on her wrist one last time. “And you don’t forget either.”

  “I’ll live my life. I’ll take risks and have adventures. I won’t be a barnacle.”

&nbs
p; “You're gonna do great things in this world, Kiran Shenoy. I know it.” I kiss her forehead. “Good-bye, sunshine.”

  “Good-bye, Mason.” She closes her eyes. “Good-bye for now.”

  “For now.”

  I open the door for her. I’m struggling to keep it together. It’s not until the taxi is out of my vision that I finally pick up my duffle bag and head to the parking lot and my car. I throw the duffle back in the passenger seat. A piece of the hotel stationery sticks out of the side pocket. It’s folded into a tight square. I carefully unfold it. A small piece of twine adorned with tiny seashells falls out.

  The note is written in her neat script. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I read her words.

  Mason, I told you I would learn how to make seashell jewelry so we can sell it to the tourists. Remember when we were dreaming? Don’t forget to dream, okay? See you in five years. I love you. Be safe. Yours, Kiran.

  She dotted the I with a smiley face.

  I love you too, baby.

  Chapter 20

  Kiran

  Five Years Later…

  The feelings never died. I thought of him every day. I wasn’t obsessed, but Mason Cutler’s hold on my heart never weakened. Every cell in my body is at attention as I walk up to the check-in desk.

  What if Mrs. Waters never made the reservation? Yes, because that’s my biggest worry right now. I tell myself to calm down.

  The hotel has had a serious makeover. Gone are the gaudy palm trees and dated wallpaper. The walls are a neutral sand color with nice pops of blues and greens. It all has an upscale beachy Zen feel. I barely notice it, though.

  “May I help you?” the girl at the front desk asks. She wears a business suit that seems out of character here.

  “I’m checking in.”

  “Do you have a reservation?”

  “Yes. It’s under Kiran Shenoy and Mason Cutler for the Sweetheart’s Suite.”

  “We don’t call it that anymore. It’s been The Paradise Room for two years now.” I prefer Sweetheart’s Suite, but I keep that to myself. She rapidly punches a few keys on her computer. My pulse notches higher with each click. There is a large sign behind her with a photo of a colorful pail and bucket. It advertises Jasper’s annual sandcastle-building contest. It’s happening tomorrow. Deciding it’s a positive symbol, I smile.

  “Ah, here it is. I’ll get your keycard.”

  Mrs. Waters came through for us. I want to thank her. “Is Mrs. Waters still here?”

  “Afraid not. She retired a year ago. I’ll need a credit card for incidentals.”

  I hand her my card.

  More key punching. More heart pounding.

  “Am I the first to check in?” I ask, my voice tinged with desperation.

  “Yes.”

  Stop freaking, he’ll be here soon. It’ll give me a chance to take a shower. Tonight we’ll go to the revolving restaurant at the Wilshire. That is if we make it out of the room. It’s going to be just fine.

  “There’s a note here,” the girl says. She squints at her monitor. “This is unusual. It says a letter arrived for you yesterday.”

  Something inside of me cries out. I close my eyes and let out the breath I’d been holding for a long time. Maybe I held it for five whole years.

  After taking the note and my keycard, I walk toward the elevator on shaky legs. The elevator has been modernized so the car moves swiftly without any hesitation. Even the Sweetheart’s Suite or The Paradise Room or whatever the hell it is now has gotten a makeover. Gone is the over-the-top décor. There is no mirror over the bed, no Grecian stripper pillars, and no plastic twinkle-light palm tree. In their place are more aesthetically pleasing, subtle choices. It doesn’t matter, though. I don’t have the stomach to be in this room. I drop my bag on the bed and head to the beach.

  I find a patch of sand sparse of people. I sit, crisscrossing my legs, and run my hand across the letter. It’s my name and the hotel’s address written in block letters. There is no return address. Why did we agree on a letter and not an e-mail? This isn’t a freaking Jane Austen novel after all.

  But that was part of our pact. Not to exchange any information. I tell myself not to freak out until I’ve read it, but there are only two scenarios in which he’d send a letter. Neither of them is good.

  One is that the letter I’m holding is the one Mason wrote and asked Dana to send if he didn’t make it.

  The other possibility is that he is fine, but the feelings aren’t there anymore. Maybe he’s met someone else. Maybe he never loved me at all.

  Either possibility would be devastating. Before I rip open the envelope, I say a prayer it’s the second. The second would mean he’s alive.

  I open the envelope. The sheet inside is just a few paragraphs long and typed.

  Dear Kiran,

  First, let me say I am fine. I made it home just fine.

  Thank you, God. I clutch my heart, all the tense muscles relaxing for the first time since I arrived. I sit straighter and read the rest.

  My hope is you didn’t come and this letter is moot. But if you are reading it, then I am so sorry. I’ve met someone. It happened a couple years ago. I wish we’d come up with a few more stipulations regarding our plan so I could have saved you this trip. You were right. The plan was stupid. But that’s who I was when I met you—young and stupid and too idealistic for my own good. All I can do is apologize to you.

  Don’t for one second think I didn’t mean all the things I said to you. You’re an amazing person and I’m thankful you were a part of my life. The days we spent together will always hold a special place in my heart. We were under the trance of amazing sunrises and rolling waves and full moons. We did have quite a few drinks in there too. The point is eight days in the sun isn’t enough to make a life. I hope you’ll forgive me and understand. Actually, you have to forgive me. You owe that to me because you agreed. No hard feelings if one of us doesn’t show up. So please remember that and don’t hate me.

  Sincerely,

  Mason Cutler.

  The ink smudges as salty tears fall on the page. I have a good, long cry, the kind that wracks my entire body and leaves me gasping for breath. He met someone. He’s happy. I’m relived he’s all right. Relieved and heart-broken and angry. Why did he type it? It’s so impersonal.

  I can’t stay here. I have to leave on the next plane bound for New Jersey or anywhere close to it. Everywhere I look there is a memory of him. Of us. I head back to the room to retrieve my unpacked luggage.

  The girl at the reception desk looks worried when I approach. “Is something wrong with the room?”

  “No, it’s fine. But I’d like to check out.”

  “Already? You just checked in.”

  I slide the keycard to her. “Something came up.” I turn to leave.

  “Wait, let me get you a receipt.”

  I’m about to tell her I don’t need one when I see an older lady approaching me.

  “Hello, Kiran.”

  She has more gray hairs now and walks with a cane. “Mrs. Waters, I thought you retired.”

  “I did, dear. I came to see you. That little speech you gave has stayed with me through the years.” She looks around and back at me.

  I bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling.

  Her smile disappears. She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. Your young man isn’t here then?”

  I shake my head, afraid if I say something the tears will start up again.

  “Would you like to get a cup of tea?”

  “I have to take a rain check. I’m actually leaving.”

  “I thought he’d be here for sure, considering all the confirmations.”

  “Here’s your receipt,” the clerk says. I take it from her and stuff it in my purse.

  “Bye,” I tell Mrs. Waters, giving her a light hug.

  “Good-bye Kiran.”

  I’m almost to the
revolving doors when her words replay in my head. I turn and scan the area for her. She’s still by the receptionist desk.

  “Mrs. Waters?”

  “Yes, Kiran.”

  “What did you mean when you said the confirmations?”

  She holds a hand over her ear, indicating she can’t hear me. I’m being rude yelling a question at her across the room. I leave my suitcase and run over to her.

  “You said you thought he’d show considering all the confirmations. What did you mean?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m just a silly old lady, a little too enamored with love stories.”

  “You’re not silly. Please tell me.”

  “He’d call every year around this time to check on the reservation. Sometimes I’d pick up the phone. When I didn’t, he’d ask for me. Each time we chatted he would remind me who he was. Why he thought I’d forget, I have no idea.” She arches a silver brow. “He is quite handsome, your young man.”

  I don’t correct her that he’s not my young man. Her expression sobers at what she’s said, and she places her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s all right. When was the last time he called?”

  She thinks about it for a few seconds. “A year ago.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I remember because I told him I was retiring. He wished me luck. I let him know anyone at the hotel could confirm his reservation in the future. He said he wouldn’t need another confirmation, since he’d be here himself in a year. He was always a pleasure to chat with and so polite.”

  I hug her again, longer this time. “Thank you.”

  * * * *

  When I arrive at the airport, the lady behind the counter also punches in a ton of keys as she searches for a flight back to New Jersey. None of this makes sense. Mason’s letter said he met someone a couple years ago. Yet, Mrs. Waters said he called just last year. The letter itself was typed and impersonal. Plus, he dismissed our time together like we were under a spell. Yeah, maybe we were idealistic and young, but it wasn’t a dream. It was real. All of it.

  What does it matter, though? Maybe I’ll cheat and do a Facebook or Google search for him. I’ll get the nerve to ask him one day, but that doesn’t feel right either. I need to see him. I need him to tell me to my face. Short of searching every small town within a forty-five-minute radius of Charleston, I’m not sure how to do that.