Brooklyn had a hard time understanding Carly’s reasoning. If she didn’t believe Brystol was her granddaughter, why would she leave everything to her? Of all men, why would she single out Bowie? Unless he went around telling people they had slept together. If he had, though, surely Carly would’ve said something to her years ago.
She returned the file to its location and reached for the one marked “Brystol.” She wasn’t sure what she would find when she opened it but steeled herself for whatever the contents were. Only a single envelope lay there. Brooklyn felt her heart drop. She glanced at the blue logo in the corner and saw that the envelope was from a lab in Seattle. Against her better judgment, she picked it up, pulled the folded sheets of paper out, and read them word for word. Then, she read the pages again for clarity. And a third time so her eyes could process what her brain was comprehending. As calmly as she could, she refolded and stuffed the letter back into the envelope, closed the folder, filed it away, and shut the drawer. She wasn’t prepared to deal with its contents and didn’t foresee a time she ever would be.
Downstairs, she found her daughter sitting on the floor, reading one of her required summer reading novels, with Luke resting his head on her leg. Brooklyn didn’t want to disturb her and slipped out the back door. She needed to think and wanted space to do it. Miraculously, she made it all the way to the beach without one of the crew members stopping her. She was hoping that Bowie was managing the crew and could get along without her for a few days. If not, he knew where to find her.
Brooklyn ditched her shoes by the wooden staircase and proceeded to walk until the dry sand turned wet. A few more feet, where the ocean would touch her toes, was where she finally sat, looking out over the surf. She didn’t care about her shorts getting wet or the fact that a sporadic wave would wash over her, drenching her. Every wave sunk her deeper into the sand, almost swallowing her. Every wave took her tears out to where Austin was.
Brooklyn stared at herself in the mirror and wiggled a bit as she pulled her dress down. She wasn’t sure if this was the right dress to wear to the party, but it was going to have to do. It was too late to try and find something else. She walked out into her small living room, twirling in front of Austin as she did. When he had showed up earlier, he had been in a bad mood, and she hoped this would at least make him smile. Although it seemed lately he was always in a bad mood, even when things were going really well for him. Of course, each time she asked about moving to Seattle so she could go to school, he’d fly off the handle and tell her they’d discuss it later. The problem was, later never came.
He didn’t say anything. He leaned to the side to look past her. She followed his eyes to the television and groaned when she noticed he was watching some fishing show. This show wasn’t going to deter her, though; it wasn’t going to ruin her night.
“Babe, are you going to get ready?”
“For what?” he asked without taking his eyes off the show.
“The housewarming party for Mr. and Mrs. Robwell. Remember? I told you they invited us because I worked on their house.”
“You, what, painted a wall? Anyone can paint a freaking wall, Brooklyn.”
Brooklyn bit the inside of her cheek. “It was more than just painting, Austin. I don’t understand why you have to put my job down all the time.”
“Because it’s not a real job.”
“And what, fishing is?” she asked, raising her voice.
Austin scoffed. “Fishing pays for nice shit for you. What does your job do? Put this shitty roof over your head?”
“Is that the problem? That you don’t like where I live? Or is it my job? Or is it me? Which is it, Austin?”
Austin threw down the remote and stood. Even though she was in her heels, he was still taller than her. “I’ve told you, move into my damn house and work for my mother.”
“I told you, I want my own career, Austin. I want to be a nurse, and until then, I’m going to work for the Holmeses and make my own money, and I won’t move in, not until we’re engaged.”
He shook his head. “And I’ve told you, this is where my job is.”
“You work on a boat, a boat that goes up and down the ocean all the time. There’s no reason as to why you can’t park that stupid boat in Seattle.”