Flynn rooted around in the closet of his childhood bedroom where the belongings he’d left behind had been stashed when he’d moved out. Although all his stuff had been stacked in boxes, the decor of his bedroom had largely remained unchanged. And why wouldn’t it? The large suite facing the ocean had been decked out by an interior designer from day one, with age-appropriate tweaks as he’d grown older.
For the most part, he didn’t mind that his room resembled a Ralph Lauren catalog. His sailing and regatta posters blended into the nautical theme so well, his mother barely even wrinkled her nose at his unauthorized additions. Although she did occasionally complain about the marks in the wall from all the push pins.
Aha! There it is.
Flynn found the Ziploc bag buried beneath worn copies of Dove and Sailing Alone around the World.
He crawled out of the closet and sat on the floor beside Cap, who happily chewed on the old baseball from middle school Flynn kept before he’d realized he was much better at tennis. “Enjoy that primo leather, buddy. Knowing Dad, that ball cost no less than a hundred bucks.”
Cap raised his bushy eyebrows, then resumed his contented gnawing, clearly unimpressed.
Flynn unzipped the plastic baggie, releasing the earthy scent of old paper and thread. He closed his eyes and breathed deeper, basking in the comforting aroma. So much better than the fake-smelling fragrance of whatever air freshener his mother had the housekeeper use to keep the empty rooms from turning musty. Why spritz imitation ocean breeze when the actual ocean was right outside your window?
Flynn slowly opened his eyes and forced himself to study the contents of the baggie. His heartbeat picked up speed, like a sloop’s sail catching the wind.
The familiar gut-wrenching weight of guilt crashed into him.
Two items, so simple on the surface.
A benign slip of paper and a braided friendship bracelet.
Innocuous except for the harsh reality that they shouldn’t be here, in this house, in his hands.
They should be in a watertight trinket box, wedged in a very specific crevice in Coyote Cave. A crevice his brother had specially selected ten years ago, when he first had the idea for the time capsule.
Flynn scrunched his eyes shut again, pained by the memories bombarding him from all sides. His throat clenched, making it difficult to breathe.
Man up. Don’t wimp out now. It’s time you finally faced this.
As if sensing his distress, Cap nudged his hand.
Flynn opened his eyes, and gave Cap’s head a gentle pat. “Don’t worry, bud. I’m fine. Or at least, I will be. This is something I’ve been needing to do for a long time.” With a fortifying breath, he removed the slip of paper and smoothed out the haphazard folds.
His youthful handwriting filled the page.
It had been ten years since he’d penned the letter. And he couldn’t remember a single word he’d written.
“Well, younger self, what gems of wisdom do you have for me?” he asked aloud, more nervous than he’d expected to finally read his decade-old words.
Dear Future Flynn,
I don’t really understand why Kev insisted we do this. I guess it’s something he read about in one of those self-help books for wannabe billionaires. He has about every book on business ever written. And he’s read them each ten times. I don’t know why he tries so hard. He was born to be a big success. I bet those twelve extra minutes of life ensured he got all the overachiever genes.
But, hey. I’m not complaining. I’ll gladly stand in the shadows and cheer him on. All I want is to be with Sage and to sail. So, ten years from now, I just want to be doing what I love with the woman I love.
His heart ached at his naive optimism.
When he wrote the letter, he couldn’t imagine a life without Sage. Or his brother. Then, in the span of a single summer, he’d lost them both.
I may not know The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People or Who Moved My Cheese, but I’ve always liked this quote by Robin Lee Graham. The guy’s a legend. And considering he sailed around the world at only 16, I think he knows a thing or two.
Robin Lee Graham said, “At sea, I learned how little a person needs, not how much.”
That pretty much sums up how I feel, too. I said something similar to Mom once, and she gave me the strangest look. I swear, if Kev and I weren’t identical, she’d be banging down the door of the hospital, claiming they gave her the wrong kid.
Anyway, I don’t really need to write my future self a letter. And I don’t really need to put my most prized possession in a time capsule to remind me what’s important in ten years.
Kev may worry about losing focus as he gets older. That can happen when you’re busy taking over the world and whatnot.
But not me. I don’t need tricks or trends like time capsules.
I won’t lose sight of who I am.
So, my best advice to my future self?
Keep doing what you’re doing and enjoy the ride.
Flynn winced at his own words.
You have no idea how wrong you are.
He lifted the bracelet from the bag—the one Sage made, with a matching pair for her and Kev to symbolize their immortal friendship. His most prized possession. A reminder of the two people closest to him in the whole world.
What had Kevin chosen as his item? What had he written to his future self?
He’d considered opening the time capsule countless times over the years. Even more so as the ten-year marker approached. But he couldn’t bring himself to go back there. To the place where his brother died. Because of him.
A cold chill swept over him, penetrating all the way to his marrow.
He couldn’t let his brother’s memories languish in that cave. Kev wasn’t here to retrieve the time capsule, which meant Flynn would have to go instead.
But he wouldn’t have to do it alone.
Flynn raked a fidgety hand through his hair. Should he really do this? Should he invite Sage into the dark places of his past?
He’d vowed never to tell her what really happened that night. He didn’t want her to carry a single ounce of guilt, especially since it wasn’t her fault. It was his own burden to bear.
But he saw the damage he’d caused by leaving, when, at the time, he thought he was doing the right thing. Maybe he needed to change his mind about this well-intentioned decision, too?
He slipped the bracelet over his wrist and cinched it tight, resolute in his new plan.
He’d tell Sage the truth. The whole truth. And he’d do it tonight.
But first, he needed to have a conversation with his parents.
It wouldn’t be pleasant. But it was necessary.
Apprehension mingled with determination as he strode across the expansive back lawn toward the white marquee tent rustling in the wind. His parents stood underneath, speaking to one of the catering staff, the stunning panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean as a backdrop.
The two minutes it took his parents to wrap up their conversation with the caterer felt like an eternity. By the time they’d turned to face him, adrenaline had kicked his pulse into overdrive.
“Hi, sweetheart. Everything is coming together beautifully for your big night.” His mother beamed proudly at all her posh party details, like the illuminated lighthouse ice sculpture and enormous floral centerpieces with—wait. Were those live goldfish in the glass vases?
He cleared his throat, trying to concentrate on his mission. “About that. I need to talk to you and Dad about something.” He swallowed. His mouth had gone from dry as sand to suddenly producing way too much saliva.
Get it together, man. It’s now or never.
He filled his lungs with crisp, salty air for courage. Expelling it slowly, he ripped off the proverbial Band-Aid. “I’ve decided to postpone the promotion.”
“You what?” His dad’s eyes narrowed, and his tone took on a stern, icy quality. The kind that would silence him instantly as a kid. “You don’t want to be vice president?”
“Don’t get all worked up, Randolph.” His mother rested a hand on his dad’s arm. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant.”
“Actually, Mom. It is. I want to put off the promotion. In fact—” Hesitating, he cracked his knuckles. The staccato pop filled the heavy silence while he summoned his nerve. “I want to take a sabbatical from Cahill Enterprises.”
His mother inhaled a horrified gasp as if he’d just confessed to living a double life as a hardened criminal.
“Absolutely not,” his dad said brusquely. “Conversation closed.”
“The conversation may be closed, but I haven’t changed my mind. This is happening, Dad. But I’m not quitting. I’m just taking a break to pursue something else for a while.” Although, he had a feeling returning to work for his father at the end of his sabbatical would be even harder than he thought.
“This is because of her, isn’t it?” his mother hissed with poorly suppressed outrage.
“It’s my decision,” Flynn said firmly, trying to keep Sage away from the firing line.
“You may think it is, but that girl has cast a spell on you. Whatever they’re doing at the place with their bees and herbs, it’s borderline witchcraft.”
“Come on, Mom,” he groaned at her obvious exaggeration. “You know it’s not. And if you keep saying stuff like that about Sage and her family, I’ll leave right now and we won’t come to the gala tonight.”
“We?” Her eyes widened.
“Yes, Mom. We. Sage is coming. And I’m asking you to please end your ridiculous war against her.”
His mother lifted her chin ever so slightly, but didn’t say another word.
Was it his imagination or were her eyes wet with tears?
“This gala is about more than your promotion,” his father interjected, ever the voice of calm reason. “It’s the forty-year anniversary of Cahill Enterprises. You’ve been a big part of the company, so I’d still like you to come on stage with me and your mother during my speech. We’ll discuss your decision later.” The way his father said the word decision, he might as well have used air quotes.
Flynn should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to skate by with one conversation on the subject.
But he’d worry about that later.
Tonight, he simply wanted to enjoy the evening with the woman he loved and make up for lost time.