6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When I enter the Palisade Shores Public Library, I keep the PS High hat low and my head down as I follow the little placards upstairs to the history section. None of this jogs a memory for me. However, I do feel like I woke up from a dream, remembered it, and then it promptly slipped from my mind.

It's like the memories are somewhere in there but hidden behind shelves of books. However, I'm afraid that even if I read every page, I still won't remember.

A sinking feeling follows me through the stacks until I reach the history section where Bea waits with a pile of hardcovers wrapped in clear vinyl.

"Ready to learn all about Sir Frances Drake?" Bea whisper-says.

"That's not the problem. I did a ‘Live-action walk-through history' program in fourth grade and could still tell you ten facts about his ship, the Golden Hind. But I don't know myself. That's what I want help with."

Her smile falters, but she says, "Patience, Grasshopper."

"Did we ever watch movies together?" Frank claims I was a big fan of film.

"We'll get to that." Bea stops in a nook in the farthest corner of the library, likely the best place not to be reprimanded for talking too loud.

The promise that we'll be spending more time together makes me feel lighter inside, like if I'm patient enough there will be light at the end of the tunnel.

"Unlike modern libraries, Palisade Shores is the second oldest in the state." Bea informs me that before it was officially a library, the original wooden building on this site was a waypoint for missionaries traveling up and down the coast.

Appreciating her every word, I listen intently.

"They'd leave each other books to read and little notes hidden inside. The founders of the town thought it would be fitting to build the library here in a historic style. So instead of a modern structure with private meeting rooms, this one has wood salvaged from old ships, stained glass windows and lanterns, and a bell that no one is allowed to ring. The anchor from the Golden Hind is outside and the captain's log is downstairs. There are archways and hideaways, and a globe that makes me want to believe there are still unexplored parts of the planet." She sets down the books on a table.

My brain isn't giving me back the years that helped inform the way I see the world, but I like Bea's interpretation. I like it a lot.

Dropping into a wooden chair, with a laugh I say, "Are we really going to redo this project? Should we find Mr. Cesar and present it?"

"No, but by the time we'd gotten started, the librarian already warned us to keep quiet twice. Three strikes and all that."

"Were we being loud?"

"We were laughing."

"About the Golden Hind?"

Bea's shoulders jitter and once more her cheeks flush. "In sixth grade, my friends started getting crushes, they appeared like California poppies, sprouting up everywhere. Then you transferred?—"

"My mother fought hard for me to go to public school." I sigh, missing her, thankful for the pieces of her I recall. "She passed away shortly before the accident. She would've liked you." It's just a guess, but I sense the truth there.

Bea hugs my hand and squeezes. "She always blew you a kiss when she dropped you off in her Mercedes."

I nod, knowing she'd kissed my cheek goodbye when I was still in grammar school, but I must've gotten embarrassed by the time I reached middle.

"Anyway, I'd never had a crush before, but when you entered Mrs. Clemson's class I understood all the fuss. When we met here for the history project and spent hours whispering and laughing, I knew I'd chosen well." Then in an even softer voice, she adds, "The crush never left."

"Never?"

Her cheeks go crimson, making me wonder what it would be like to spend an entire day together at the beach, drink in the morning sun, splash in the waves, and watch the world spin away...the two of us together.

"So back to the story about our research project. When I said Golden—" She cuts herself off and stifles laughter, eyes squeezed shut.

"What'd you say?"

Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head. "I can't repeat it."

"Why not?"

"You'll laugh and we'll probably get kicked out or they'll tie you up in the basement so you can't level the place with a wrecking ball."

"Is there a basement?" I ask, knowing those are rare in this part of California.

"Probably not, but I'm not repeating it. Anyway, we started passing notes back and forth instead of talking so we could finish our research." She opens one of the books. Written in faint pencil in the margins are about as many words as are printed on the page.

I read, "‘The Golden Heiny: The Tale of a Great Booty.'" A chuckle builds inside.

"That became our inside joke."

"So I did know how to have fun..."

Bea beams a smile. "Senior year with Finn Barton was the funnest."

This feels like the beginning of something—the kind of thing where you lose track of time and sense of place. In whispers and muffled giggles, Bea gives me a tour of our writing in the book which doesn't so much tell Sir Frances Drake's story, but our own. There are even some doodles. More than anything, I wish I could remember, but my mind remains blank like a missing page.

Eventually, my stomach growls, meaning it must be dinnertime.

"I'm going to guess not many people have done a Sir Frances Drake project since and if they did borrow these books, they'd wonder about the Golden Heiny."

Bea's shoulders shake with her muted laughter.

"I should also donate to the library for defacing their property." I run my fingers over the faded pencil marks and long to have my old self back. Or at least the full picture of who I was.

"Or don't tear down the library."

"Or that." Getting to my feet, I gather the books in a big stack.

Bea leads me back to the correct shelf and replaces them. I take note of where they are in case I want to come back. When I pass her the final thick hardcover, our hands brush. My skin warms and my head turns floaty. I feel like I'm in the clouds, and for once, it's not a bad place to be.

Bringing myself back to earth, I say, "So how'd we do? Did we get an A?"

"An A+ all with thanks to your highly detailed sketch of the Golden Heiny."

We both smother more laughter because the library is extremely quiet. When we reach the lobby area, rain patters against the big windows, streaking them and making the traffic lights in the distance shine through like the stained glass in the other areas of the building.

"Looks like we're the last ones here," Bea says.

"They close early."

She glances at a brass clock set in what looks like a wooden ship's wheel. "It's after seven."

"No wonder I'm hungry." I pause and hesitate before asking, "Want to grab something to eat?"

"You're probably better off not showing your face on the Promenade."

I adjust the hat. "I have my disguise."

"Maybe lie low for now. I hear the townsfolk have torches and pitchforks."

"If they drive me out of town, that's mission accomplished, right?" My heart tells me not to so much as nudge a piece of brick in Palisade Shores. My mind warns me of what my father would say.

"We still have a few more miles to travel down memory lane before you're ousted." Bea presses against the bar on the door to exit, but it doesn't budge.

I try, but it's locked. Glancing over my shoulder, the help desk is empty. The lights are especially dim. The library is the empty kind of silence that composes the gap in my memory.

"It would seem the library is closed. Are we locked in?" Bea asks with a wobbly tone.

"Nah. I'm sure there's a door here somewhere that opens out and locks from that side."

We try them all.

"I'll call, um, the police?" I suggest, unsure of the solution.

"I advise against that. Officer Kyson was off duty last night, holding a candle out front." Bea adds. "He loves his crime novels."

"We can't just stay in here all night."

"I'll call Shelly. She can talk to Pinky. Surely, she'll know someone who can discretely break us out."

I swallow thickly, feeling oddly like a criminal, especially given how this looks with my soon to be Imperial's big boss role.

Bea paces while her phone rings with a tinny echo in the library. She sends a text but doesn't get a reply. This time, her stomach growls.

"There's probably a break room with some food."

"Will you replace it like the vandalized books?" Bea's lips quirk with a smile.

I find myself drawn to her lips when she smiles, laughs, chatters...

"Ha ha. But yes."

We find some pre-wrapped BelVita biscuits in a basket along with an assortment of tea and some packets of oatmeal.

"Wait. We can try a window," Bea says.

I gesture to the slim selection. "Not your idea of dinner?"

"Not when I have a huge slab of chocolate cake waiting for me at home."

My stomach rumbles as I walk to the nearest window and unlock the latch, but then go still when I spot a little magnetic alarm unit. "Do you think the library has an alarm system?"

"Of course. The control panel is by the front door. There was another in the rear."

"Then I'm not going to risk opening this."

Bea slouches and shakes up a pouch of oatmeal. We're quiet while we eat until she says, "It's like glue."

"You probably didn't add enough water."

She peers into my cup, gusting her classic floral scent in my direction. The tips of her hair tickle my arm. "Your oats are drowning. They need Sunny to throw them a life ring." When I don't reply, she says, "He's a lifeguard now."

"Who?" I ask, taking a bite of my watery oats.

"Sunny Kent? We went to high school with him. He was a surfer dude. I don't think you guys were friends, but you always had classes together so you were friendly. He and Diana Daniels, also formerly known as Duchess Diana, were prom king and queen."

I shake my head, wishing I could mentally match the name with a face.

"How about Spencer, Dalton, Paige, or Renee?" Bea names some of our classmates.

Not one blooms a memory. But we make new ones as we explore the library in the dim light as the sun sets. We speak at a normal volume and laugh even louder.

It's nearly midnight when we settle in the kids' area with a plush beanbag chair built for two. We sink together into the floppy sack made for little people, but it's that or small wooden chairs.

"I guess Shelly must be living her best hot girl summer life. She never texted back. Ooh. That must mean she's on a date with Petunia."

"Who?" I ask, not registering that name either.

"It's actually Duke. It's our code name for Sunny's older brother. She has a crush...I've said too much."

"Would I know him?"

"Probably not. Shelly just moved here. She works at Pinky's Squeeze. It's her aunt's place." Bea tells me about Shelly's unrequited crush on the town grump.

"Are you, uh, dating anyone?" I risk asking.

Bea shakes her head. The stuffing of the bean bag shushes with the motion. I don't say more because I was so focused on regaining my memories that I breezed past her mentioning her crush.

Me.

After spending the afternoon together and with Bea warm by my side, I can't say it's unrequited.

"When you were in town with Fifi, did you stop and get a coffee float?" she asks, likely still hungry.

I am.

"She refused."

"I'd get a scoop of chocolate. You?"

"The same because I don't know if I liked chocolate or vanilla, chemistry or English Lit, girls with peachy skin and auburn hair or... I don't know what. Nothing fills the space. Trying to grasp at my memories is like trying to hold on to the morning marine layer."

She goes extra still, silent. "Oh." Then clearing her throat, she says, "We'll get floats as soon as we're free."

"I'd like that," I say, feeling sleepy as I sink deeper and closer to Bea on the bean bag. We practically zip together from shoulder to ankle, but there's no avoiding it and I'll admit I like being this close.

"I'm guessing this wasn't part of our research," I say with a yawn.

"No, we didn't get locked in the library overnight."

"But we are making new memories." And for that, I am immensely grateful.

"Before we get too far ahead, there's something else you should know."

My breath catches because at this point it could be anything. We've covered past and present crushes...

"This seems like a good time to come clean. I'd find a copy of Romeo and Juliet, but it's too dark and I've always been convinced this place is haunted."

"Did your brother make you watch Ghostbusters like Frank did?"

"I'm an only child."

"I feel like that's something I should've known."

"Our families were kind of like the Hatfields and McCoys. Or I should say Imperial Enterprises and The Fletcher Dynasty Properties, Corp."

"So rivals?" I ask, vaguely recollecting reading about the Prism Point Resort changing hands.

"I was from a very wealthy family. We also owned exclusive luxury hotels. I practically grew up in them along with the house on the Strand."

"So we were neighbors?"

"The boy and girl next door, well, separated by five mansions, but close enough. My parents became embroiled in some sort of financial scheme. We lost everything." She tells me about how during the graduation party the feds showed up.

"We went from riches to rags. I was too young and preoccupied with my immediate problems to pay attention to the details. I thought my life was ruined. College plans and my entire future was hauled away in unmarked vans. Except I learned one thing." Bea hesitates. "Iver Barton is the one who turned them in."

It takes me a moment to register what she said and make the connection. "My father?" A gouging sensation in my gut makes me regret the oatmeal. "We did that to you?"

"I don't know that you had anything to do with it." Hope clusters then splits in her tone.

Me neither.

"I always hoped you didn't."

This is one of those moments where I feel the irony of being a poor, tortured billionaire boy because no amount of money can buy back my memory and I need to know what happened.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," I say.

"It's important to note that my parents did commit a crime."

"My father saw to the elimination of the competition. Ironic because he also put me in golden handcuffs."

We're both quiet for a long moment. I watch as raindrops land on the dark window and trail toward the bottom one after the next like on a loop. I fear that's going to be me with these memories...or lack of.

Bea's voice is barely a whisper above the patter of the rain. "I was angry for a long time, felt robbed, but my parents were at fault, and in the end—and I've never told anyone this—even though my life changed so drastically, I can't deny that it's been for the better. Had I turned out like Fifi, I'd never forgive myself."

This gives us permission to laugh and we fill the room, tears streaming, hands clapping against our legs as we imitate my father's fiancée.

"No shade, but I was so convinced you were going to marry her."

I imitate gagging. "No way. Not a chance. Fifi gets lizard slime facials. She sleeps in some kind of oxygen-infused chamber. I'm telling you, she has an atomic beam in her chest like Godzilla and would smite an entire city given the chance."

We spend the next few hours talking, mostly Bea spilling secrets about the past. I can't help but feel like I'm falling. When my hand finds hers in the darkness and they fit perfectly together, I wonder if I already did.