Nate was waiting by his car when Bea and I got back.
She went to him first, kissed his cheek and asked whether he wanted tea. He said he'd have some in a minute.
“I've got something for Lucy,” he said. “I told you about it.”
Bea glanced at me. “Okay. I'll put the kettle on.”
She took the empty takeaway bag inside. I stayed by the gate while Nate reached into his jacket pocket.
He brought out a small blue hair clip shaped like a fish.
I stared at it, then laughed.
“You kept that?”
“It was in the little box in that drawer with my old phone. I found it when I got the phone yesterday.”
He held it on his palm. One of the little painted eyes had worn off.
“I wondered where it went.”
“You gave it to me to hold.”
“I remember.”
We'd been sitting by the river on a windy afternoon. My hair kept catching in my mouth, and the clip had broken its grip because it was cheap and I'd insisted it was adorable. Nate had offered to hold it while I tied my hair up. I'd forgotten to ask for it back.
He'd called it a dangerous predator. It was about an inch long.
“Still dangerous,” I said, turning it over.
“Especially with one eye.”
He smiled, and I felt myself smile back.
The gate stood between us. I could have opened it. He was close enough that I could see the faint grease mark still on his wrist, the one he'd joked about that afternoon. I wanted to rub it with my thumb. I wanted something ordinary and familiar to be mine again.
Instead I clipped the fish onto the strap of my bag.
“Thank you.”
“It's yours.”
“Why didn't you throw it away?”
He looked down at it. “I didn't want to.”
The answer warmed me before I could decide whether to let it.
Inside, I could hear Bea calling to Mother about the towels she'd brought back. I looked toward the house.
“Are you still going to marry her?” I asked.
Nate's smile went.
“Yes.”
“After everything with Mum?”
“I love Bea.”
I pressed the bag strap between my fingers, just below the little fish.
“You said that at the bench. I wanted to ask about Saturday, properly.”
“Yes,” he said again. “I still intend to marry her.”
It was kinder than anything vague he could have offered. It still hurt.
I leaned against the gatepost. The pavement smelled of warm dust.
“Part of me wanted you to say no,” I said.
His shoulders moved as he drew in a breath.
“I don't think you should try to make me feel better about that.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“This afternoon was good. Hearing that you liked me, that you meant what you said then.”
“I meant it.”
“I believe you.”
I looked at the light in the kitchen window. Bea moved past it with a mug in her hand.
“But I'm not going to hang around beside you both waiting for you to want our summer back,” I said. “I won't be that person.”
“I wouldn't ask you to.”
“I know. I'm telling myself as well.”
He lowered his eyes. I was grateful he didn't reach for me. If he'd put a hand on my arm, I might have mistaken that for something it wasn't.
“I don't want it to be cruel for you to be here,” he said.
“Then don't make it confusing.”
He looked up.
“We can talk about what happened,” I said. “We can carry flowers and laugh at a stupid cake. But don't let it look like there's something else you're offering me.”
“All right.”
The words were simple. I needed simple words tonight.
I unlatched the gate and stepped through. He waited while I did it, then followed at a distance that didn't feel unfriendly. It felt careful.
Bea came to the kitchen door with his tea. She handed it to him, glanced at my bag and saw the clip.
“Oh,” she said. “The fish.”
“Survived a long voyage,” I said.
“Did you put that in your hair for an entire summer?”
“I was sixteen. I had a style.”
She smiled. “You certainly did.”
I took the clip off the strap and slipped it into the little side pocket, away from the keys in the main part of my bag.
“I'm tired,” I said. “I'm going up.”
“Sleep well,” Nate said.
I nodded to him, then to my sister.
In my room, I set the fish on the dressing table and put the key beside it. The clip's spring still worked. I tried it once, caught the loose hair above my ear and looked in the mirror.
For a second I could see the younger me. The one who had thought next weekend would always be possible.
I took it out again before it caught.
Downstairs, Bea laughed at something Nate said. I felt the familiar ache, but I didn't go down to see what the joke was.
I put my phone on charge, moved the dress away from the window and slipped the spare key back into my bag before climbing into bed.
Tomorrow there would be more flowers to do. I still wanted to help. I wanted Bea beside me, even if I couldn't stand beside her for the ceremony.
And on Monday I was going back to the coast, with my job, my room and a hair clip I could decide whether to wear.