Lost Years

To my faithful Novel Sirens - Sienna Snow, Sage Spelling, and Aliza Mann, who believed in this story before anyone else did. Thank you for being part of my writing tribe and pushing me to be the best version of myself.

To my beautiful girl, Nicole, who inspires me everyday.

To my talented editor, Candace Havens, who helped me to shape this story and made me a better writer though the process.

Chapter One

If someone told me my dreams would lead me to Texas, of all places, I’d ask them what drugs they were on…and if they wouldn’t mind sharing. But I’d taken this winding pot-holed path, and it had led me here to Serenity, an island just off the coast of Port Aransas.

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I studied the house in front of me. It looked like any other single-story house. Well, except for the bright blue door with the large silver doorknocker in the shape of a rose.

I felt nothing for it. The place held no memory for me. What did I expect? Maybe I’d finally let go of the last shred of reality and punched my one-way ticket on the crazy train.

It wasn’t until I stepped out of the Mustang and reached for my phone that I realized I’d never set the GPS with the address when I rolled off the ferry. I’d driven here on my own as if I’d been here before.

The tension I’d carried eased up just a bit as if someone had removed a few weights from my chest. This was right. Maybe.

The Texas sky exploded with stars, creating a spotlight around the small house. I checked my watch. Nine forty-four p.m. seemed a God-awful time to drop in on someone you’d never met. I considered turning around and finding a hotel or driving around until I found a secluded spot where I could sleep in my car until morning.

Fuck it.

Knocking on the door, I inhaled a lungful of ocean air, hoping it would swell up my courage.

Would she turn me away? It was the reason I didn’t tell her I was coming. I didn’t want to risk having obstructions before I’d even gotten here. The last few days had been a blur. I may be sober, but I’d never felt more out of control than I did now.

My size twelve sneakers were too big for the tiny porch. I shifted my feet and dragged my fingers through my hair, wishing I’d taken a minute to groom myself.

Sounds of shuffling came from inside. I took a step back when the door opened and almost landed on my ass. She was shorter than I expected. Streaks of gunmetal gray interlocked with her dark hair. She adjusted her glasses, taking me in. Wrinkles lined the outer corners of her eyes and mouth.

I wondered if I misunderstood and she was really my great aunt. She seemed much older than my mother would have been, although she was the younger sister. I recognized her dark green eyes, though. They matched mine, as did the shade of jet-black in her hair.

Hello, Aunt Rose, how are you?

She blinked in surprise, cupping her hand over her mouth. Jason? Jason Flynn?

Guilty.

She looked me up and down several times, actually standing on her tip toes, trying to get close to my face. I bent down so she could avoid any unnecessary strain. She hugged me, the scent of oranges and cinnamon coming off of her.

What brings you here, sweetheart? Such a casual question, as if anything about this was normal.

Between the solid two-and-a-half days of driving from Manhattan followed by the thirty-six-minute ferry ride to Serenity, you’d think I’d have come up with a convincing explanation, but I had nothing. The truth would probably get me a customized straight jacket and a reservation to the nearest padded cell.

Would you believe I was in the neighborhood? I said with a lopsided grin.

She placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head. As much as I’d believe I’m the long-lost Kardashian sister.

I laughed for the first time in a long time, relieved she had a sense of humor.

We are an island, so unless you were on a boat trolling the Gulf, I’m not sure how that’s possible.

The truth is I wanted to visit with you. Just for a few days, if you’ll have me, but I can stay at a hotel.

There are no hotels in Serenity. Everything tensed all at once.

Not that I’d allow you to stay in one. You’ll stay here.

I let out a sigh of relief.

She opened the door wider, gesturing for me to enter. I walked into the bright pink living room full of trinkets and tapestries. The only subdued colors were the beige couches, but even they had tie-dyed blankets over them.

The fresh smell of citrus seemed out of place in the old-fashioned room. But what really didn’t make sense was the music. The music didn’t fit at all.

Aunt Rose, are you listening to Phish? It was the last kind of music I imagined her liking. Maybe Harry Connick, Jr. or Michael Bublé or something, but not the second coming of the Grateful Dead.

She smiled, which made her look younger. Great band, don’t you think? This song is called ‘Farmhouse.’

Uh, yeah, I guess.

You can stay as long as you’d like. She reached up and tousled my hair. Gosh, you grew up handsome. You, um…you’re nineteen now?

Twenty, I answered.

That’s right. I should have remembered. She frowned as if forgetting my age really upset her.

It’s no problem.

You look so much like your mother. You have her eyes and mouth. But you have your father’s square jaw.

Thank you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t drop in like this. You don’t even know me.

Her eyes narrowed. That wasn’t my choice. Your father isn’t a fan of mine.

Well, I guess Aunt Rose and I had something in common then. My dad didn’t exactly care for me much, either.

She gestured to the couch. I scanned the room before taking the seat, hoping for something to latch on to—a scene from a memory or a dream. I came up empty.

I’ll make us tea, she said, clapping her hands.

You don’t have to do that.

My only nephew travels over sixteen hundred miles to visit me. The least I can do is brew a pot of tea.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t like tea, but I did have enough sanity left to know I shouldn’t tell her about the dreams. No use getting institutionalized before I could investigate. Thank you. Your home is really nice.

She flipped her hand. It’s a knickknack haven.

Her scratchy voice floated out of the kitchen as she sang along to the song. I couldn’t help grinning. Damn, Aunt Rose, you are not what I expected.

Chapter Two

I walked around the room, studying the bookshelves, loaded with odd arrangements of porcelain cat statue, seashells, and what looked like an antique hookah straight out of A Thousand and One Arabian Nights. A small stuffed terrier smiled back at me. I picked it up and pulled the string. Its mechanical paw moved, and it barked three times. Well, Toto, we’re not in Manhattan anymore.

My cell buzzed again. Anna probably sent another text. My sister had been blowing up my phone since I’d hopped on the George Washington Bridge.

Here we are, Aunt Rose said, breaking my trance.

I almost dropped the Johnny Walker collector shot glass in my hand. Taking the tray containing a large teapot, two cups, and a plate of sandwiches from her, I searched the room for a spot to deposit it all.

On the coffee table, she said. Will this be enough? I can whip you up some chili or something.

I didn’t think people just whipped together chili, but what did I know? This is plenty. Thank you.

Such nice manners. She poured two cups and placed a sugar cube in each, stirring with a small silver spoon. So, what really brings you here?

Straightening in my chair, I blurted out the half-truth answer before I lost nerve. I saw an ad for Serenity in a travel magazine, and I remembered you lived here.

Oh, the one about cheap beach vacation spots?

Yeah. I flashed back to the Bodega in Brooklyn when I stood behind a lady as she flipped the pages of the magazine. I was so amped up I couldn’t even form coherent words or thoughts. A photo taking up the top half of the glossy page showed a large boulder jutting up from wet sand surrounded by crystal blue water. It would not have been extraordinary in any possible way—except I’d seen this rock before in a dream. Actually, I’d seen it in almost all of my dreams for the past ten years. I paid the woman fifty dollars for the magazine. She’d looked at me like I was crazy when she pocketed the money. Ironic, since this was the first time I felt sane.

I’m glad you’re here, but aren’t you in school? Aunt Rose asked.

I’m taking a break for a while. I thought a road trip might be cool. Cool? Who said shit like that? But how could I tell her the truth? I wasn’t sure how Aunt Rose would react, especially since she just invited me to stay with her. So here I am at your doorstep like some kind of hobo. I do have money so I can pay you rent.

She sipped her tea, surprisingly calm as if this happened all the time. Do not insult me by offering money again. Your grandfather built this home. It belongs to you as much as it does to me.

I exhaled, relaxed for the first time since I’d gotten off the ferry. That means a lot.

Does your father know you’re here?

I don’t think he cares.

He might. He thinks I’m crazy, you know.

Why is that?

What have you heard about me?

I shrugged. Dad doesn’t really talk about you. Not that he talks about much. I honestly forgot my mom had a sister until this past Christmas. I got your present. Thank you.

She took a long sip of her tea. You liked the football cards?

Very much, I lied.

Does Anna like the snow globes?

She loved it. At least that was a truth.

Her eyes darted around the room. It wasn’t brand new. I found it in a resale shop.

Those are the best kinds of gifts. They’ve been loved in a past life. My fingers twitched, remembering the newsprint that wrapped the heavy globe—the front page of the Serenity Post. The story was about some guy my age who had drowned while surfing. I read it twice, absorbing every single word. For the first time since forever, I actually cried.

I swallowed and focused on the sandwich—tuna salad with pickles and celery on rye bread. I never cared for pickles, but this tasted pretty damn good.

I thought you probably hated my gifts. You’ve never called.

Gifts? I raised an eyebrow, realizing she’d been using the plural this whole time.

The cup clattered against the plate as she set it down. I’ve sent you both Christmas gifts since you were babies.

I…I just saw this one. The post arrived when I was home for the holiday break.

I see.

My father kept your gifts from us. Or maybe my stepmother, Colleen, had something to do with it.

Well, I’m sure he had his reasons. If she was angry, she didn’t show it. She just looked sad.

How come you are estranged? You’re my only family on my mother’s side. It’s weird.

She played with a loose string of the couch blanket. I beat to a tune that isn’t rhythmic for most folks.

Then we’re not so different, you and me. Besides, I don’t hold my dad’s opinion in high regard. You seem like you have it together.

The lines between sanity and senile are often blurred, young man.

Well, when you say things like that, I kind of wonder. I cracked a smile, and thankfully, she did, too.

She wagged a finger at me. You definitely take after our side of the family.

I’ll take that as a compliment.

Do you mind if I light up?

It’s your house. Doesn’t bother me. The house didn’t smell of lingering smoke, only oranges and maybe lemons.

Would you care for some herb?

I held up my teacup. I thought this was herbal tea.

She chuckled, the lines of her face smoothing for a moment. I wasn’t referring to the tea. She stood and walked over to a wooden box on the fireplace. She brought it back to the coffee table, carefully setting it down. I stared in shock as Aunt Rose picked out seeds from a large ripe green bud. I’d smoked weed before but usually through a vape. The rolling process fascinated me. She rolled the joint with the preciseness of a seasoned stoner. She held the fat stogie toward me along with a shiny metal Zippo lighter.

Was she trying to test me?

Oh, don’t be such a prude, Jason. This is medicinal.

I smiled, taking it from her. I choked a bit on it. It has been a while for me, and this stuff wasn’t weak. What ailment do you suffer from, Aunt Rose?

Memory loss, she said.

Are you honestly telling me pot helps with memory?

She shrugged, waving the air to disperse the smoke. It’s ironic, but yes, it does. She took the joint from me, inhaling deeply and holding it in. This is the good stuff. I grow it myself.

I nodded. Never, in a million years, had I pictured sipping a cup of herbal tea and sharing a joint with my estranged aunt. The world could really mess with your expectations.

She started coughing.

Want some water? I asked, getting up.

She shook her head and grabbed her teacup. After taking a long sip, she gestured for me to sit. Tell me about Anna.

She’s great.

A smoke ring came out of her mouth as she sighed. No…no. I don’t want to hear some generic nicety. Tell me who your sister is.

She’s a dancer.

Aunt Rose sat up straighter. That’s amazing.

Yeah, it’s not Broadway, but she’s been in a few shows. My dad disapproved when she dropped out of college, but she stuck to her guns. I’m glad she did. It’s what she’s meant to do. I couldn’t exactly explain it myself, but whenever I saw Anna dance, it felt as if I was in the presence of a real-life miracle. She’s engaged, too.

Really?

Yeah, his name is Keith. He’s an investment banker on Wall Street.

Is he good to her? Aunt Rose asked, her concern a little surprising. After all, she didn’t really know us.

Very good. It looked as if she hungered for more information, so I recited the story Anna always did. "He came to the after-party when she played one of the evil stepsisters in Cinderella. It was a musical version with dancing. Anna wore a huge prosthetic nose, and they made her teeth look two sizes too big for her head. She said Keith was the one when he passed up Cinderella’s obvious flirting to talk to Anna. They’ve been together ever since. He proposed last weekend."

Rose put her hand over her heart and blinked her eyes several times. I love that. Good for Anna.

Truth was I was happier for Anna then I’d been for anything. She’d never given up on me, even though I’d given her many reasons over the years. That reminded me. I owed her a call…and an explanation.

And your father? How is he? Rose asked with less enthusiasm.

He’s fine. He’s happy with my stepmom. I didn’t have much to say. Why waste any more time on my dad? He said he didn’t want anything else to do with me. I needed to write him off, too.

How long can you stay? she asked.

It depends.

On what?

How long you’ll have me.

She set the joint down on a bowl that looked more like a sculpture than an ashtray. Make yourself comfortable then. We’re in for the long ride.

That sounds really good.

Would you like a job? My best employee just quit, and I could use some more help at the restaurant. That article you saw has made the tourists come out in droves.

I didn’t even know she owned a restaurant. God, I was a total dickhead nephew.

That would be great. I don’t have any experience, but I’m a hard worker.

The restaurant has been in our family for three generations. I think it’s only appropriate a fourth work there.

I sipped my tea, letting the cup shield my shame. My finger was too large to curl around the porcelain teacup, so I clutched it in my hands. Can’t wait.

We passed the joint back and forth. She asked me some more questions about our lives on the other coast. It felt comfortable in some weird way. When the joint shrunk, she handed me a roach clip. Damn, Aunt Rose was a total pothead.

Ever use a pipe?

As long as my fingers work, I prefer to roll one.

Yeah, this seemed really old school. I cracked up, a little too loud and way too long. I’d moved into Stonesville.

I had a million questions for her, but I stayed silent. Wanting information from Rose without giving her anything in return would be over-playing a bad hand. How could I explain that I’d been dreaming about this place without realizing it for the last ten years? Not just this place, but a certain girl. One with long hair, the color of the setting sun and eyes bluer than the Gulf of Mexico. Although judging by Aunt Rose’s oddness, maybe she’d be the one person who’d understand the crazy in me. Aunt Rose, I can’t explain this, but I feel drawn to this place.

She looked out the window. Your mother loved this island. It’s a part of us. So, you can say, the island is in your DNA.

Can you tell me about her? My father never talks about her, and Anna doesn’t remember too much.

She was very special. I wish you could have known her, Jason. I imagine you’ve had a very hard life without the presence of a mother to guide you.

I shifted uncomfortably. I had Anna.

Of course, you and Anna must be close, but it’s not quite the same.

Aunt Rose, believe me when I tell you I’ve had a cushy life. I’ve gone to the best schools, traveled around the world, and always had more than my fair share. I didn’t add that I’d also been a resident at some pricy rehabs. Sure, I wish she was alive, but I don’t plan on throwing myself a pity party because I didn’t get enough hugs. On the scale of tragedies, it doesn’t rank that high.

Suffering silently is not a prerequisite of manhood, even if it does meet society’s standards. A soft smile spread on her lips. To answer your original question, your mother was beautiful and not just on the outside, either. She was innocent but eternally strong, too. She had a kindness she carried in her heart that showed. Many boys fell in love with her, but she only returned the affections of one.

I wanted to ask her who, but I stopped myself. Obviously, she referred to my father. That’s a shocker.

Aunt Rose’s green eyes held a faraway look. You have to understand he was very different then, or perhaps he was the same man, but now his mourning is too deep for him to love. Their story was rare.

I regarded her skeptically. I can’t picture my dad as a romantic.

She frowned as she poured herself some more tea. "Hmpf, children always find it difficult to believe their parents existed before they came along, but he was. He came here for his college spring break, young, handsome, and charismatic. He planned Serenity as just a day excursion, but he met your mom on the beach and changed around his vacation, even extending it by a week.

"They spent every day together. She told me she loved him. I warned her to be careful. He lived so far away, and his lifestyle wasn’t anything like ours. Honestly, I thought it would be over after he left, but it was just the beginning. He wrote her these wonderful love