Julia - Coming home

[moonshadows]

Uncle Vince and Uncle Dave have been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember. We’re not really related, but then again, neither was Mom. Every year on my birthday they’d come, give me weird-smelling hugs and cards with money inside, and Uncle Vince would take me aside to assure me that “when the time was right”, he’d “reveal everything”. Last night, before Duke took me to the only place that’s felt like home since I was about five, Uncle Dave looked me in the eyes and told me solemnly that it was time. All my life I’ve wanted to know the answers, find out the truth, but now that the veil of secrecy is finally about to be lifted…

I’m scared.

 

When I make my way back to the Cape I’m hauling a steamer trunk and a duffle bag with me, feeling every bit as rootless as I have since I left Texas and hoping my puppy eyes are good enough that Duke doesn’t politely but firmly tell me no slumber parties. Mom’s estate will need to be settled before I can start the “job” the uncles have arranged for me, but once I do, I can start paying rent. He probably won’t toss me out. He did take me home and make me breakfast. Still, I’m tied to Haven now and that weighs on me more heavily than I thought it would.

When the cabin door doesn’t open, my heart drops like an anchor. He’s not home. I don’t know where he is, or where he might have gone, and even if I had an American phone, I don’t have his number. Or anyone’s number aside from Vince and Dave, and they’d only look at me in bafflement that I’m not staying at “my” house. As I’m looking around in despair, resigning myself to sitting on my trunk until Duke comes back, I remember he said something last night about owning the Gull. Maybe…?

 

The Grey Gull is loud and busy. The town must have softened up towards Duke if they’re willing to visit his establishment in droves like this. I weave my way to the bar and gesture the bartender over.

“What can I getcha?” she asks, looking me over like she thinks she remembers me but isn’t going to go ‘Do I know you?’ anytime soon.

“Actually, I’m looking for Duke. Is he around?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “He’ll be back later, though. Want to leave a message?”

Great. Sitting on my trunk it is. “Yeah, just tell him Julia was-”

“Wait,” she interrupts, one hand up. “He left something for a…” She lifts a lumpy envelope and squints at the writing. “…Wee Lass Julia?”

I laugh, but it’s resigned. “That’s me.”

“Then this is yours.” She slides it over and retreats a respectful distance, clearly curious but also clearly not going to pry.

Inside the envelope is a phone with three text messages, about sixty dollars cash, and…

I heft the keyring reverently. If this is what I think it is, I may cry. Instead of thinking about it, I check the texts.

Went to call you but didn’t know your number.

Key is what you think it is.

Dinner’s on me.

Yeah. I’m going to cry. I shove the phone and cash in my pocket and weave my way back out the door, key clutched so tightly that I’m pretty sure it’s leaving imprints in my hand. Once outside I run for the Cape like I can outrun my tears, which works for the most part. My hand is a lot steadier than the rest of me, and the turn of the lock is a tiny reassurance that I’m not adrift. I take the duffle bag in first, leaving it on the bed before hauling the trunk awkwardly inside. And, since I’m pretty sure I’m still going to cry, I lock the door behind me.

Once I’ve wrestled the trunk into what I guess really is my cabin, my knees go wobbly and I sink to the floor, not really crying but not dry-eyed either. Almost too relieved to cry with relief, I guess. I fumble the phone out of my pocket and type a slow reply to the texts. It’s not the most eloquent thing, but hopefully he understand how heartfelt it is.

Thanks, Boss.