When Drew finally spoke again, Merrick’s theory solidified.
“We met the summer before that. She was visiting her grandmother in that little tourist town. You know the one off the Coast Highway? The one named after a dessert topping?”
Coastal tourist towns were in full supply here. But yeah, Merrick knew the one. He nodded.
“I would play my harmonica on corners,” Drew continued, “hoping to earn a few bucks, maybe even land a gig with a band.”
“You play harmonica?”
Drew blinked as if it hit him Merrick still stood there. He stepped inside the apartment and returned with a brass instrument. It was a little beat up but still much newer than Merrick’s hand-me-down one.
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” Drew handed the harmonica over.
Merrick wiped it with his shirt, then pressed the instrument to his lips and played a few simple chords. It produced a clearer sound than his grandfather’s, but the latter was more authentic. Or maybe it made him nostalgic. He handed the harmonica back to Drew and waited for him to say more.
“Anyway,” Drew said, “River found me on whatever corner I chose. This bracelet ended up in my tip hat around mid-July. I figured some tourist had dropped it by mistake, so I held on to it. Played at that same corner for a week straight, waiting for the owner to claim it. But no one ever did.”
“So you gave it to River?”
“She called me her ‘Prince Charming.’ Can you believe that? I wanted to sell it, see if it was worth anything. But she was so sweet. It was almost like she needed me. So, yeah, I gave it to her. To be honest, I felt bad for her. She seemed so . . .”
“Sad?”
“Yeah. And lonely. Being around her started to get depressing. Cramped my style.”
The tone in which Drew said it, like it was no big deal, told Merrick more than his words had. “What happened between you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Drew cast his gaze to the concrete floor. He didn’t have to say anything else for Merrick to get the gist. Typical. “Another girl?”
“River lived across the country.” Defense coated his words. “I thought it was a fling, you know? When she showed up on my doorstep in the fall with her bags packed, I wasn’t prepared. You have to warn a guy. You don’t show up at his apartment unannounced.”
“You told her you loved her.” Merrick knew this much from what Brooke had told him.
“You know how it is. I’ve probably told at least a dozen girls the same thing. Who hasn’t?”
Merrick hadn’t. He pocketed his fists and worked his jaw. This guy had “player” written all over him in scarlet ink. If only River had waited. If she could have seen what true love looked like. Maybe things would have turned out differently.
Even so, how could he blame this loser who clearly needed a shower and a shave and probably didn’t have more than five bucks to his name?
“Depression is an illness,” his dad had said. “It is a disease . . . You are not to blame for Amaya’s death.”
Merrick sighed. He hated Drew on principle. But there was more to River’s suicide than her broken heart. Of course this piece of work had made things worse, poured acid into an already open wound, but she was sick, same as Amaya had been.
“Thanks,” Merrick said. “I think I have what I need.” He held out his hand for the pearls. They were done here.
“She was a sweet girl,” Drew said, as if that was any consolation. “I’m real sorry she died.” He placed the bracelet in Merrick’s hand and closed the door, taking his old-sock scent with him.
“Yeah,” Merrick said to the peeling maroon paint. “Me too.”
After taking a moment to collect himself, he made his way back outside. The day was uncharacteristically warm for the first of November, and his light jacket suddenly stifled him. After shrugging it off, he sat on the curb across from the apartment steps. Dead leaves littered the gutter and the barren branches above him offered little shade.
“So that’s your story, huh?” He turned the bracelet over in his hand. “That was the prince River fell for?” A dark laugh escaped. “Some prince.”
His phone buzzed. He answered without checking the caller ID. “Hey.”
“Did you find him, compadre?” Grim’s voice provided the grounding Merrick needed.
“Unfortunately.”
“Bad news, my friend?”
“I wanted to punch the guy.”
“Ouch.” He pictured Grim’s wince. “I knew I should’ve come with you.”
“Nah,” Merrick said. “This was something I had to do on my own.”
“I’m proud of you, man.”
“Thanks. I’m kind of proud of me too.”
They made plans to grab burgers and shakes later that night for their final exam study session, then Merrick hit End and tucked both the phone and the pearls inside his pants pocket. He exhaled and hung his head between his knees.
What would he say to Brooke? How could he explain that the epic and tragic love story she’d imagined for River was nothing more than a case of deadbeat-itis?
Merrick made a silent promise to himself then. He would live up to the name he bore. A name he’d once hated, but now found described exactly who he needed to be.
A prince.
Did she still want him? Their texts reeked of small talk. The moment they’d shared in the tea shop last month never came up. After all this time, after all the heartbreak and hurt, could the damage that had created a chasm between them be undone? Could they rebuild and find their way back to one another? Brooke was still healing.
But so was he.
Even if they couldn’t make it work, Merrick would be the prince Brooke deserved. And if it turned out she didn’t want him as part of her world?
He would still be a Prince.
Merrick would stand by her side until the very end.
Fifty
Brooke
Thanksgiving break brings with it the final phase of changing leaves and all things pumpkin and pecan and cinnamon.
Nikki and I stroll side by side past the charming shops and quaint businesses you’d only ever find in this town. We’ve found our way back once again. To this enchanting corner of the West Coast where time slows and life pauses. We can’t keep ourselves away, it seems. Nikki for Grim, of course. And me?
Mee-Maw is here, the life of the party at Ocean Gardens Assisted Living. Or so she claims. She never fails to work her magic, casting a spell on everyone she meets. There’s never been a soul who’s met her who didn’t immediately fall in love.
I drink in the cider-tinged air as a breeze swirls around me, lifting the hem of my skirt, reminding me why I wear leggings. I feel River here too. This is where she died. Though a stirring inside my heart says she’ll never really leave this place.
“I’m here,” I sense her whisper through the wind. “I’ll always be here.”
I take a moment to remember her voice. I picture her and Amaya Hope off on an adventure somewhere. Splashing in the waves, pretending to be mermaids for a day.
“Take care of each other,” I want to tell them.
I can almost hear Hope’s response. “You guys take care of each other too.”
A shiver runs through me as her brother’s smile takes up every inch of my thoughts. My heart twists. I check my messages. Nothing from Merrick, but my eyes widen when Jordan’s name lights the screen.
Happy Thanksgiving.