Follow Your Arrow Page 11
“Yes, I did. See, the whole series has been based on the mystery of an island, the disappearance of families. The one thing that floated between each book over the years has been the connection that Detective Javier has had with Caroline. We’ve watched them over the span of the series, longed for either one of them to take a leap of faith with each other. Since I can’t give away all the answers before my fans get a chance to read the book, I’ll say that you won’t be disappointed.”
“Is it true that you’ve put more of your heart in this one?”
“Yes, it is. I used some life experiences to fuel our detective. You know, push him a little harder toward love.”
“Now, Justin, I have to ask, as many at home are probably curious. Is there a real life Caroline?”
“Yes, there’s a real life Caroline. And just like Javier, I’m trying to win her back.”
“I’ve had the pleasure of reading ‘When the Fog Lifts’ before you came on the show and, I have to admit, this one feels different. There’s more of a romantic feel than the mystery of the others.”
“That’s because I needed to get a message across to the real Caroline, and I wanted the readers to feel the agony that Javier has for loving the one he’s been investigating over the years.”
“Well, I’ll have to admit, that not only was I captivated by the level of romance, I didn’t see the ending happening the way it did. Do you think your readers will be satisfied with the conclusion of the series?”
“Yes, I’d like to think that the true fans of the Kingston Mystery series will be happy with the way it all wrapped up.”
“Tell us, Justin, what’s next? Have you started on a new series, can we expect a spin-off?”
“Right now, I’m taking a little break. However, I can say that there’s more to come but not from this series. ‘When the Fog Lifts’ is the last of the series.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first. There’s a real Caroline, and Justin might be searching for her soon. Don’t forget, ‘When the Fog Lifts’ hits the shelves next Tuesday.” She stops and turns toward me more. “As always, Justin, it’s been a pleasure having you on the show. We can’t wait to see what comes next,” she finishes before reaching her hand out to shake mine.
I nod and say, “It’s always a pleasure, and I look forward to our next adventure.”
“Cut,” comes from the producer, and I take that cue to pull the tiny mic from my shirt and stand.
“Thanks again, Justin, for being on the show today. You’re always welcome back,” the producer says as he approaches me on the stage.
“It’s been a pleasure, and I’ll have Christina set up something with the next release I’m sure.”
“She has my number,” he tells me before walking away. I toss up a hand toward Rachel before I exit the stage.
Checking my phone, I notice there’s no message from Elliott or anyone else from back home. Instead of calling Elliott, I head home to pack my bags. I have one last adventure to take.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leslie
I took Haddie’s and Elliott’s advice this morning and watched Justin’s interview. I knew that his words were genuine. If I’d not have read the book, I’d think they were all lies to cover his tracks. Over the last several days, it’s taken a lot out of me to not call and forgive him for using my story. After the show ended, I got up and walked out of Skipper’s without uttering a single word. What I need to do is think, think about what to do next. Do I call him? Do I risk flying out to see him without knowing that he’s home? With the release of the book next week, he could be jetting off to another city like he has been. There are so many unanswered questions that I don’t even know where to start. Lost in thought, I continue down the sidewalk toward the bookstore.
Once inside, I flip the sign to open and draw back the curtains, allowing the sun to shine in on my face. The town is full of tourists, ones looking for Justin, ones visiting to capture the beauty of the island. It’s not my favorite season, but it’s one that pays the bills. Last night I woke up and realized that I needed to put all of Justin’s books back out on the shelves and table. The shipment of his latest arrived yesterday afternoon and yes, I admit, that I had to weigh the options of actually placing them in the window when it came time. I knew by not doing so, I’d lose money that I desperately need to keep the store running. But then, I also knew that by placing his newest release out front and center, I’d be putting my heart right out in the open for the whole town to see. I spent three hours unpacking all of the past books in the series and finding a place for them. With the last one coming out, those who haven’t bought the complete series might be intrigued in them. The idea of making a whole table housing them all hit, but then that felt like creating a shrine to the famous Justin Albott that I’d have to look at daily. That wasn’t an option, so I went with the old plan. They went on the shelf, categorized in the mystery section of the store and his newest will go in the window. No table will house his name. I won’t have to look at it until a customer checks out. It’s the safest thing for my heart.
“Leslie!”
“Back here,” I yell back to Haddie.
“I brought coffee and muffins,” she says as she gets closer.
“You must’ve read my mind,” I say with a smile as I take the cup from her hand and follow her toward the porch.
“You want to talk?”
“Not really… I’m not sure what I’m going to do, or if I’m even going to call him.”
“You do realize that he just professed his love for you on national television?”
“I do, but I’m old-fashioned, and he knows that. That was a grand gesture, I need the face to face. I need for Justin to face me.”
“Then you might need to tell him that, Leslie. I just want you happy, and he makes you happy.”
“I can’t argue with you on that one. He’s always been able to make me laugh.”
“Did you hear the weather report this morning?”
“Elliott told me; I’m going to get ready this morning,” I say as I think about all the items I need to get together. See, the thing about living on an island is that you’ll lose power with a mild windstorm. Tonight’s storm is supposed to produce forty miles per hour winds and it’s coming in at high tide, which also means the water will rise up and over the street near the river. I’ll hunker down upstairs and ride out the first of many more storms that will come over the summer. It’s not the first, and it won’t be the last.
After Haddie leaves, I go behind the front counter and slide out the old shoebox that I found and tucked behind here a few days ago. I’d forgotten about it as I’d asked Nan years ago to hide it from me. When Justin and I were young, we’d share a soda or dinner at Skipper’s while killing time. While there, we’d draw and write notes on the bar napkins. Some would be outlines to stories that Justin wanted to write. While others would be quirky sayings that we’d make up. I kept every single one of them. When I brought them up from the basement, I only opened the lid to see what was inside. I hadn't gone through them, not until now. Even though I have other things that I need to get done, these old napkins are the only thing I can think about. I pull each one out, reading over the ink and placing them in piles across the counter. Plots, sayings, and drawings. It’s when I come across the one that stands out the most that I raise it up and clench it to my chest. It’s the one that Justin wrote, ‘Our Story – the greatest love story of them all’. He did that. Justin wrote our story, and I tossed it back in his face. Yes, the story hurt to read, but here is proof that I’ve already given him permission all those years ago. In some twisted way, that’s how he sees this. The grand gesture of all grand gestures. He poured out his love through a story that is heartbreaking to me, only to give me a happy ending after it was all said and done. I set this one aside as I continue to look over the others. I can’t help but wonder if he remembers these. Should I send them to him, giving him permission to use what we dreamt abou
t all those years ago? Instead of acting on a whim, I place them all inside and tuck them safely back under the counter.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Justin
I couldn’t take it anymore. The moment I finished the interview I had my driver take me home so I could grab a bag and then to the airport. I got on the first flight I could. After landing at the Jacksonville International Airport, I rented a car and hit Interstate 95 North. It isn’t until I veer onto the highway that I notice the swell of dark clouds forming off in a distance. My fingers instantly go for the radio, scanning for any news I can find on what’s brewing. Of course, when you’re searching for something, it doesn’t come up. Foregoing the radio, I dial Elliott’s number knowing he’ll answer. While waiting for him to pick up, all I can think about is Leslie and her safety. It’s not that she can’t handle herself; it’s more that she’s alone and I’m not there to protect her. On that island, the smallest of storms can seem like a category five hurricane. It depends on the tide, the direction of the wind—it all matters.
“Hey man, everything okay,” Elliott’s voice booms through the car’s Bluetooth.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing? I’m headed there now, and it’s getting dark.”
“Dude, do you not watch the news? There’s a small tropical storm coming,” I hear him tell me this, but it’s a delayed reaction as I let those words sink in.
“Where’s Leslie?” My voice is stern and rushed as my life depends on knowing her location.
“Last I heard from Haddie, she went back to the cottage to get ready. She has everything she needs, and I’ll be across the street from her.”
“Not the point. I’ll be there in….” I stop to look at the GPS, “…thirty or forty minutes.”
“You do realize that you’re about to make this small storm a huge one with you showing up. Man, she’s not ready to see you.”
“I appreciate your advice, Elliott, but she’s going to face me one way or another. I’m not going back until she agrees to listen to me and accept that we are meant to be together.”
“Took you long enough, drive safe. I’ve gotta go help Haddie.”
“Later,” I say and disconnect the call.
With everything that’s been going on over the last few weeks, the last thing I’ve done is watch the news or any TV. The interviews that I’ve been doing, I don’t watch them once they air. I was there, there’s no reason to go back over it again. Traffic is light, but still heavy enough that it’s slowing my speed down. I take a chance and dial Leslie just to see if she’ll answer, but I’m sent straight to voicemail. She’s probably busy with last minute stuff around the store. Years ago after the island was hit with a category three hurricane, Nan invested in Hurricane shutters for all the windows downstairs. I can’t remember seeing them on the top level when I was there last. Nan had explained to me that she had to protect her investments, which, by that, she meant all the books. She’s also never placed any book on the bottom three levels of the bookshelves. She’d house a trillion shelves in the place before she set on book down near the floor. When you grow up with rising flood waters, you quickly learn how far it will rise. Not that it means everything is safe, as there’s always that one chance it could go higher. To Nan, it was better to be safe than sorry in this situation.
Taking the exit, I notice the lack of seagulls and birds flying in the air. How the limbs of the palm trees are swaying, the high marsh grass tips are twirling. A long time ago my father had explained to me that if a storm is ever coming, watch the animals. Watch the way the birds will fly inland, the way the butterflies will rest and hunker down far from the flowers. That even the crickets would no longer chirp in the evening. There were old fisherman tales about ships going out and coming back to the docks with word of a storm brewing before we would even know. All they ever did was watch the skies. Not for the dark clouds that weren’t forming yet; it was always the birds. You could watch them swarm above the water at feeding time; they would lead you to the best fishing spots in the river. But when they raced to shore to take shelter, it was time for you to tie your lines to the dock and hunker down with your family.
Twenty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot off to the side of the bookstore. I don’t see Leslie anywhere outside when I step from the rental. I’m not sure if she’ll be downstairs or up, so I take a chance on knocking on the bottom door to the shop first. There are no lights on, but I get closer to the glass. Placing my face against the panes, I shield the sides of my eyes to better see any movement. Coming up empty, I step down and take the steps two by two on the side of the cottage. Knocking several times, I wait before I call out, “Leslie, it’s me. Open up.” With no luck, I pound on the door a little harder, hoping she’ll answer. The wind’s picking up more but the rain’s holding off. I shift my body to look out over the tops of the house next to me. It’s then that I spot a woman standing down at the shore. Of course it has to be Leslie; she’s the only crazy person I know who would stand near the shore while a storm is coming in.
Running down the stairs, I turn right and follow the sidewalk down to the riverwalk. The closer I get, the more the weather is changing. There’s a hint of thunder in the sky. It’s not loud and ground shaking yet, but you can hear the rumbles warning us. Leslie’s not far from me, but something causes me to stop dead in my tracks as I watch her standing there overlooking the river. Her arms are wrapped around the front of her chest, hugging her cardigan close to her body as her hair whips around her face. I can see her side profile, the intense stare across her face as she’s lost in thought. I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking about. Is she wishing I was here? Is she thinking about the storm, or how she and Nan would prepare for such an event? It then hits me… This is the storm in my novel, where Javier finds Caroline standing by the shore watching as the storm brews. Is this a hint of what might come for me and Leslie? I’m not sure if she hears me walking toward her; it’s when I’m only a few feet away that she turns her face toward me. There’s no smile lighting up her face as another round of thunder rolls through the sky. There’s no light in her eyes when she looks at me. No sign of letting me know that we’ll be okay.
“Leslie,” I whisper, but she turns her focus back toward the river.
Her shoulders square before she asks, “Why are you here, Justin?”
“I’m here for you, isn’t that obvious?”
“I told you there was nothing left for us.”
“That’s what you said, but I disagree. I’m doing what I should’ve done all those years ago. I’m not running away this time.”
“Justin, I can’t right now. I need to get ready for this storm, and you are just another distraction that I don’t need.”
I step closer so close I can smell the honeysuckle shampoo she uses as the wind blows her hair around.
“Did you read the book?”
“Yes, I read it.” Her voice is flat, no emotion, nothing to let me know what she thought without having to pry it out of her.
“Okay, did you watch the interview this morning?”
“Yes to that too, but it doesn’t change anything.”
“It does, Leslie. You are Caroline; look where we are right now. Just like them, waiting for a storm to come ashore. It’s our story.”
“Our story ended a long time ago, and if you ever thought that there was a chance for us again, you shouldn’t have gone behind my back and created a story about me and my family.”
Letting out a long breath, I roll my head from side to side, loosing the knots that have built up from the stress of the day. At this point, I’m not sure what else there is left to do to get her to understand that I didn’t write the story to hurt her. I was trying to win her heart, showing her the love that I have for her through my words and character. I remember Nan told me once that Leslie has a severe stubborn streak deep in her that comes out from time to time, and you have to be stern with her to break her out of it. Maybe this will work; hell
if I know at this point.
“Leslie, you’re going to listen to me or I’ll lock you in your apartment until you do.”
“Oh, that’s funny since there’s nowhere for me to go while we’re under a tropical storm warning.”
“You’re sexy as hell when you’re mad, did you know that?” I tell her but get no response back.
“Fine, you’re hurt that I didn’t ask, but have you stopped to think why? That if I would have asked you to give me permission to write our story, you know you’d have said no. Then where would the surprise in that be? Second, it’s not just your story—it’s ours and this island. Just because Caroline lost her parents and didn’t know what happened, doesn’t mean I betrayed you in any way. All of that is public knowledge. You need to get past that and deal with what’s happening with the two of us. This sulking like a ten-year-old isn’t becoming anymore.” I stop because now I have her attention. Leslie turns around, her hands on her hips as she holds my stare.
“Acting like a ten-year-old, huh? Well, let me show you how a ten-year-old would act,” her voice booms as she marches past me, her shoulder bumping into mine. I let her walk away for just a second before I grab her arm and pull her back toward me. With our chests flushed against each other, I push the hair away from her face. “Leslie, I love you and only you. I was a coward all those years ago and let you slip away. I refuse to do that now, and if it takes us both standing out here in this storm to come to our senses, then that’s what we’ll do. I’m not walking away this time.”
“You already did, you let me go when I came to your house. It’s been weeks since then, and you’re just now showing up? What am I supposed to do, Justin? Drop to my knees and forgive you, trust you again with my heart for the third time?”
“I didn’t break it the second time, you let your emotions break it. I only poked it to make sure it was still alive. You’ll be happy to hear that it still beats; it still craves the romance that was so great between the two of us.”