Read Empty Promises (The Promises Series Book 3) Online
Authors: Elle Brooks
Empty Promises (The Promises Series Book 3) (18 page)
TWO WORDS.
That’s all I was given. That’s all that was said.
I knew this moment was coming, and I didn’t really expect much to happen. Well, maybe I did a little, but it was the silence of the moment that I can’t seem to forget. The silence is so loud that I can actually hear the air ringing off of my eardrums. I want to throw my hands over my ears to make it stop.
Two words . . . eight letters that have forever changed my life.
I thought that I would feel different. I don’t know why. I’m sure it’s coming—the difference—but at this moment, I don’t really feel like anything has changed. This moment looks just like the moment an hour ago, and I suspect that in one hour from now, the moment will look the same. Or maybe it won’t.
I think maybe I’m frozen in this moment. My father sits next to me in the other high-back chair. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, and he leans over with his elbows on his knees and his head is dropped down. Soft piano music plays. It comes from somewhere in the background. They play for her. My mother always loved the piano. The sunlight streaks rays through the window into the room. Dust particles swirl around in the air.
My hands are down next to me and my fingers keep rubbing the fabric of the chair, back and forth, back and forth. The fabric feels almost like velvet, so soft. I officially hate velvet.
I continue to watch the dust swirl, and somewhere in the background voices murmur, but I don’t know what they’re saying. The ringing in my ears has turned to more of a thumping. My pulse, my heartbeat, I focus on the thumping and the dust.
Someone touches my shoulder and breaks me from my frozen moment. I turn to look up and see my father. I can’t help but notice the dark rings under his eyes. He looks like he has aged so much recently. How did I not notice this before? He shouldn’t look like this. He’s only thirty-nine.
It’s then that I realize the moment has changed. Everything has changed. My heartbeat drops from my ears to my chest, and as I look around, it begins to pound faster and harder. The imprint of the dragonfly on my skin burns. A hole is being burned straight into my heart. The room has gone dark. The dust has disappeared and my eyes begin to blur with tears. The music isn’t playing, and she isn’t here anymore.
Two little words.
“She’s gone.”
TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS.
That’s how long it has been since I’ve talked to her, hugged her, smiled at her—seen her. She consumes almost all of my thoughts as if she is still here—but she isn’t.
Standing on the beach, I look out to the horizon and the beacon lights from a few ships shine back at me. I breathe in the cool freshness of the morning air and remind myself once again, I am not on vacation and she is gone.
Dad decided after her funeral that instead of trying to move forward with our lives, that it would be best for him and me if we just move on. “Let’s start over,” he said. Within three weeks, he sold our home in Denver, found a new one on the beach in Florida, and had movers come in and pack up all of our belongings. He transferred offices for work and registered me in a new high school for my senior year. I really didn’t get a say in any of this.
Just like that, my entire life changed. I’m not quite sure why I never saw this coming. I should have. Once someone you love dies, nothing really is the same ever again.
I have officially been living in my new house, in a new town, in a new state, for three days.
I look up and down the beach of Anna Maria Island. There are only a few people out, a couple of other runners and a few elderly women looking for shells while drinking their coffee. I can tell that the mornings here are going to be my favorite time of the day.
Mom always loved the beach. I remember her saying over the years that when my father retired, she wanted to live on the beach. The question is: why didn’t we? If it’s possible for us to do it now, why didn’t we then? It also makes me wonder why we didn’t go to the beach more often. We took vacations at least twice a year, but they were always to places like New York City, Seattle, or New Orleans. Dad liked cities, and he thought it was important that I was exposed to culture, but what about what my mom wanted? Maybe by him moving us here this is his way of giving her something that she always wanted.
I reach up and rub the dragonfly charm that hangs from a silver necklace.
Over the last week of my mother’s life she began to drift in and out of consciousness. She gradually became less responsive to our touches and to our voices. Three days before she died, she quietly told me she loved me and asked that my father go ahead and give me my gift. By the time he returned, she had fallen back asleep, only this time was the last time. She never woke again.
The charm and necklace had been placed in a black velvet box, and it was wrapped with silver wrapping paper and tied up with blue ribbon. The charm of the dragonfly isn’t very large, maybe about an inch in size, but what’s striking about it are the royal blue Swarovski crystals that make up its body and tail. It is delicate, elegant, and I love it.
Attached to the gift was a letter . . .
My darling daughter Ali,
I love you. I want you to know that you have been the light of my life and you have given me more precious memories than one person should be allowed. This is my wish for you. I hope you will experience a life filled with dancing, kindness, adventure, and love.
Dragonflies are known to live their lives to the fullest. Whenever you see one, I want you to hear me saying, “It’s time to let go.” You are always so serious and focused. Sometimes you need to look for a little joy. Lighten up your life and make it brighter. Seek out some happiness because you, my darling girl, deserve to live each day smiling with not only your eyes, but your heart too.
Think of me like you think of the wind . . . you can’t see it, but you can feel it. I will always be with you.
I love you.
Mom
In the weeks following her death, I did a lot of research on dragonflies. It wasn’t like I was asking the big questions and looking for the meaning of life, but I was looking for symbolism. It’s the last thing that she gave me, and for that reason, I needed to know all I could and why.
I read that because the dragonfly evolves from growing in the water to moving through the air, it’s supposed to show wisdom when it comes to transformation and adaptability in life. I can only hope that I’ll be granted this wisdom too. I feel as if I’m evolving in reverse, from the air in Denver to the water of Florida.
The beach feels different this morning than it did yesterday. I try to pin point the changes, but all I can really come up with is that today it is more . . . more accepting, more inviting, and more captivating.
I drop my iPod on my towel, fold over the edge to hide it, and take off running toward the tip of the island. As much as I love music, this morning I just need the peace of the water as it washes up on the shore and the soft sounds of the seagulls as they fly overhead.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I can’t tell the difference between the ache for my mother and the ache from the exertion. I push myself harder to go faster, keeping my feet in line with the packed sand that’s left behind by the receding tide. I don’t even mind the slight downward slope of the beach; it just makes me push harder.
By the time I’m finished with the run, I need to head inside to get ready for school, but the water looks so inviting. Kicking off my shoes and socks, I strip down to my sports bra and underwear, and walk into the water. It’s cool, refreshing, and calms my overheated skin. Turning around, I face toward the beach and fall straight backward. My ears slip under the water, muting everything, leaving only the peace and quiet that I need this morning.
Floating on my back, staring up at the sky, I want to laugh at how surreal all this seems. Five days ago, I was sitting on our back deck staring at the Rocky Mountains. Four days ago, I was somewhere in the middle of the southern states. And today, I’m here, living in Florida, swimming in the Gulf of Mexico. Strangely enough, I feel at home here. Maybe it’s just acceptance, or maybe I’ve begun to realize how adaptable my life really is.
Suddenly, something crashes into me, pulling me down. Water rushes over my head.
I’m further out than I thought, and my toes don’t reach the bottom. Frantically, I kick my feet to free myself and push on whatever has hit my stomach. It’s an arm and that fear turns to panic. Thoughts of drowning flash in my mind.
The arm moves and I scramble to break the surface of the water, gasping for air.
I’m not a very good swimmer. Flailing my arms, trying to stay afloat, my hand shoots out and hits the person in the face causing them to groan. It’s a guy and I turn toward the sound. He jerks down on his goggles, and I see his pissed off glare just before he pushes me away.
“Watch where you’re going! Didn't you see me swimming here?” he snaps. I’ve swallowed some water and I start coughing. My hair is covering my face and it floats around me, making it hard to catch my breath.
“I'm sorry,” I choke as I keep slipping under. His hands find my waist. I grab onto his upper arms and he pulls me above the surface. My hair is now smoothed back. “I didn't mean to get in your way. I’m not sure how I got this far out. I’m sorry.”
His eyes lock on to mine and I’m frozen. He’s beautiful.
Falling Down
(Rockstar #1) By: Anne Mercier
Lucy
OUR FLIGHT'S DELAYED which isn't a surprise. Thank God for iPhones and headsets or I'd have to endure the incessant chatter of Regina Russo. Yeah, that's my mom. The chatterbox who is now talking my brother's ear off. The difference between Joey and me is he likes to talk as much as my mom. I'd much rather enjoy solitude.
Sera and I are listening to a random playlist on Spotify. She chose the Today's Top Hits playlist, which is okay, but I'm not into a lot of the rap-type music whereas Sera loves it. It beats out listening to Regina any day.
Sera taps my shoulder and I pull one earbud out.
“Stuck in Chicago, of all places.”
“Could be worse. We could be stuck in Kansas.”
“Or Texas.”
“Truth. Let's go get something to drink and see if maybe they have some decent magazines with His Sexiness in the gift shop.”
Sera snorts. “His Sexiness.”
“What? He is.”
“He's alright. His brother's seriously hot too.”
“Oh yeah. Mom, we'll be right back.”
“Don't be too long. I have a feeling we're going to be up in the air soon.”
“We won't.”
We head through the concourse of Chicago's O'Hare International airport. Tons of people are traveling today. I wonder if it's like this every day or if Thursdays are busier than most.
“Ugh,” Sera says. “If I get bumped one more time I'm going to throat punch someone, I swear. It's so rude. I mean, how hard is it to walk around someone instead of into them?”