Laiyla
I step onto the boat, easily the nicest one in the marina, and Levi slides behind the wheel like the experienced boater he is. He backs the boat out and steers from the marina, picking up speed on the open water.
Complicated, jittery emotions bubble inside me. The warm evening air blows against my skin, the scent of the lake fills my head, and I’m alone on a boat with Levi. It all assails me, threatening to turn back time.
I can’t keep all the memories from flooding in. So many amazing summers when Levi and I were inseparable. The feeling of joy and comfort and so much love from every direction—Grandpa, Levi, friends. Even the adults in town liked me.
Oh, what a difference the years make.
Levi steers us past the cove where my grandfather’s house used to be and around a bend.
In the distance, the other end of the lake comes into view, and by the time Levi slows and shuts off the engine, the sun is gone and the evening is growing dark. But I’m not looking at the land to my right, the potential spot for the restaurant, I’m staring at the stunning, modern lakeside house
on my grandfather’s land. My land.
Levi joins me on the bow. “The land here is on bedrock. It’s not in a slide zone, and we wouldn’t need any grading or engineering here. And you’d have two-hundred-and-seventy-degree views.”
“What’s that?” I say, growing angry. “That house at the end of the lake?”
“Looks like a house at the end of the lake.”
I don’t acknowledge his obtuse answer. “If that’s not something my grandfather had built, then someone is squatting, because that house is on his property.”
“No, it’s not.”
I turn a scowl on Levi. “I know this land, and so do you. We’ve explored every inch of it.” Hurt joins my anger. “That’s our land,” I say, now referencing Levi and myself. “We dreamed of building a house there, all those years ago. What in the hell? How could someone build there? How could the city give a building permit to someone who doesn’t own the land?”
“Hey,” he says, voice calm. “Chill, it’s not on Otto’s land.”
“Why do you keep saying that? You know—”
“Because it’s my land, Laiyla,” he says. “My house.”
My mind can’t get around that. “What?”
He takes a breath as if he’s settling in for a long, hard discussion. “Otto sold me that piece of land. It was all nice and legal. You can look at the records. I gave him a fair price for it.”
I shake my head. “When? Why? He never told me.”
“You weren’t here. You hadn’t been here for a long time.” He’s stoic, his brow creased with unease, his gaze on the house. “As he aged, Otto needed help around here. When I got back from Dubai, I did what I could. He wanted to pay me, but I refused to take his money. When he asked what he could do to repay me, I told him he could sell me that little spot on the lake.”
Hurt batters my heart. And anger—at my parents, myself.
“He really needed you, Laiyla,” he says, voice soft with hurt and disappointment. “We needed you—Otto, the town. Why weren’t you here?”
“He never told me that.” Tears sting my eyes. “Every time I talked to him, he told me he was fine and had plenty of help. Always said he didn’t need anything. Just wanted to hear about where I was and what I was doing. If my parents knew, they didn’t tell me, just like they didn’t tell me about the state of the marina or the landslide on the property.”
The tears spill over, and I wipe them away with both hands. “Goddammit.”
Levi slides an arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” I say it to Levi, but I’m including my grandfather in my thoughts. “I’m sorry it put so much on your shoulders. Thank you for taking care of him.”
“You’re here now. Otto would be proud of the way you stepped up.”
A few silent moments pass between us, while I sniffle and pull myself together. Levi withdraws his arm and wraps it around his knees.
“Did you build it?” I finally ask him.