Page 25 of Beautiful Place By the Sea

I never expected the whirlwind that’s descended upon me these last weeks. Ever since I met him at Harbor Lights, we’ve spent nearly every evening together. He’s charming and sweet, and I’m completely swept away, possibly beyond the point of recovery.

Janie has been so supportive, helping me sneak out once our parents turn in for the night. She usually comes with me, and we meet him at a prearranged spot on the beach or on the footpath overlooking the cliffs. He brings his friend, the one we met that first night, so Janie has someone to talk with. Sometimes, Charlie comes with us, too.

I don’t want to use either of their names here, just in case Mama reads this. She claims she would never invade my privacy, but I’ve seen her read Janie’s diary. More than once.

If she knew his name, she might start asking around town to see about inviting him for supper or some such. Since we’re staying with the Blackburns, I would be so mortified to have my mother invite a man over on my behalf. And besides, people talk. If Mama mentioned him to Charlie’s mother, for instance, it would certainly get around. Everyone here goes to the Parkers’ grocery store; that’s where the best gossip is sold.

We’re only here until the end of the summer. I don’t want to become the talk of the town.

Instead, I’d like to just live in my magical dream world a little longer. As long as I can. Just him and me and the ocean, stretching out before us like the possibilities of our future.

God, my grandmother had a way with words. Must have been all that reading she did, I muse with a smile. I’m so curious who this mysterious gentleman caller was. It really seems like she was at the very least infatuated with him. Maybe even in love for real.

How is it that just four months later, she was married to someone else?

Grandpa Charlie was incredibly charming, I admit. And, based on old photos I’d seen of him, he was pretty handsome, too. I guess it’s possible that this mystery guy didn’t stick around, or broke her heart, and Grandpa was there to pick up the pieces. It just feels…quick.

I wish my grandparents were here. To ask them for this story; to hear all of their stories. Even just to hug them, one last time.

With a sigh, I flip to the next page. This entry is dated July 26, 1953.

Tonight, Janie helped me sneak out to my favorite place—the bench on the cliff overlooking the cove. It’s the perfect vantage to see it all—sea, sky, the distant horizon. That part of the footpath is in a circle of pine trees, so it’s mostly secluded from prying eyes.

Charlie got me a bottle of wine and some fruit and cheese from his parents’ shop, and I brought a blanket for a picnic. He’s such a good friend. We have fun together, Charlie and I. Sometimes I wish he could be the one I have these feelings for, but it just doesn’t work that way, I suppose.

The man who makes my heart beat faster met me along the footpath, and then Janie went off to the dance hall with some girlfriends. My parents thought I was with her, but I stayed behind and had a magical evening instead. I hesitate to say so, but the way my soul soars whenever he and I are together makes me think we are falling in love.

In fact, he told me as much, even going so far as to suggest he would be talking to my father about his intentions in the near future.

I won’t speak to the more intimate specifics of the evening, but suffice it to say, it was more than I could have hoped for.

My eyebrows jump up my forehead. Was Eleanor referring to…sex? I’m both intrigued, as a reader, and disgusted, as a granddaughter must be when faced with a reminder that her departed relative was once a sexual being.

God. I’m pretty sure I know the place along the footpath that she’s talking about. Not only can I not imagine her having sex, period, but I can’t fathom doing so safely on the edge of a rocky outcropping, 20 feet above the Atlantic. I didn’t give my grandmother enough credit for being a badass, apparently.

Shaking my head, I turn the page.

November 3, 1953

Charlie and I were married today. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the weather was unseasonably warm. It was like the universe was smiling down on us, giving us the gift of a beautiful day to start our lives together.

I look down at the journal in confusion. How did we skip from debauchery at the tide pools in July to marrying my grandfather in November, with nothing else in between?

It’s then that I notice a frayed edge in the very inner crease of the book. Almost like…no, it couldn’t be.

I run my finger along the middle of the diary, then pull it apart as far as I can without damaging it.

No, I’m definitely not imagining things. Several pages have been ripped out.

My heart starts racing, like this is a poorly executed mystery that I’m living in my actual life. Who would do this?

Maybe it was just my grandmother, I muse, later regretting some detailed descriptions of what she and Mr. Summer Romance did by the shore? Perhaps she was too embarrassed for my grandfather, or worse, one of her sons, to ever read a lurid entry about teenaged passion?

I shake my head. But she already basically admitted to the sex. If she’d wanted to remove mentions of anything incriminating like that, wouldn’t she have pulled out the July 26th entry, too?

I guess I could ask my dad, but that feels like it would be a more awkward conversation than I’m willing to have. I’ll have to run it by Laurel. But I hear “Iron Man” emanating from her room, so sharing my grandmother’s intimate encounters with my cousin will have to wait.

It’s getting late, anyway, and I have to work in the morning. And deal with Oliver. For that, I’m going to need all the rest I can get.