The Shadows of the Past

The Letter

At the dead end of Holly Road, in the small southern California town of Beachside, where sunshine was constant and summer never seemed to end, there stood a pastel blue two story house which faced the vast Pacific Ocean. It was the only house on the road to be painted in such a whimsical color and was, therefore, very telling of the type of people inside.

There was Amanda Hardt, a cheerful English woman in her thirties, who never seemed to stop smiling and who's smile never seemed forced. Her husband, Marvin Hardt, was an equally jovial man who had all the good looks of an old-time Hollywood actor and always wore a pair of thick rectangular glasses.

And then, there Laelin Hadleigh, their American goddaughter, who had been orphaned at age nine, taken in by her godparents who she fondly called "Aunt Mandi and Uncle Marvin". Laelin, who hailed from the mountain woods of Massachusetts, was plain as the day was long, a girl who's only points of interest were her parents' tragic passing and, perhaps, the mismatched green and golden eyes she possessed.

No, there was nothing much to be said about the small family in the house with walls of sky, except, maybe, that they believed walls could be made of sky, or that little orphan girls could sing to animals and have them understand, or that the sea beyond their star painted picket fence was truly endless. Laelin Hadleigh, much like the godparents who cared for her, and the birth parents she knew before, believed in magic. She believed that the ocean was forever, that the wide world of fantasy beyond the stars she had painted had no end to it.

So, what happens when the limitless sea gives way to an unforeseen shore?

***

Laelin

It was warm.

It was loud.

It sounded like the waves were crashing in my ears and felt like I was drowning in mid-June beach sand.

I couldn't see anything. Occasionally, I could hear a yell of a name... my name, my actual name, before the roar continued. Less like the ocean and more like the crowd at a football game... but... distant. Like my ears were plugged. The heat grew. A hand grasped my wrist and then-

"Jay! Sweetie, wake up!" I groaned and rolled over, blinking my eyes open to see my thick, green curtains fighting out the sunlight. A few rays poked, stubbornly, through the cracks.

"Jay," said my aunt's voice, just outside the door behind me now, "darling, can I come in?" I groaned in affirmation. The door creaked open and I rubbed at my eyes while my aunt whipped the curtains back and opened the window. Warm salty air washed in and blinding California sunshine pierced my eyes as I threw my body over again, facing the door, away from the offending light.

"Oh, goodness. Come on, my dear, it's time to get up," my aunt spoke in her crisp British accent while taking a seat on my mattress. I nuzzled my face further into the pillows.

"D'n't w'nna... sleepy... Time s'it ev'n?" A soft hand carded through my hair, coaxing my head up.

"It's 10 am, and time to come down to breakfast. I have a surprise for you," she said cheerily. How Aunt Mandi managed to look so perfectly peppy every morning, no matter the hour, was a mystery. It was like living with a real life Mary Poppins. Glancing up at her through my bleary eyes was like glancing into the sun, but without the pain. Her brown curls were  shiny like ribbons around her head and shoulders, her blue eyes were bright and sparking, and her sweet smile positively blinding. It was almost like she was giving me the energy to get out of bed through a mere glance.

The smell of chocolate coming from the kitchen actually got me out of bed, though.

Aunt Mandi shuffled me downstairs, PJs and all, to find Uncle Marvin at the table with coffee and newspaper and... chocolate chip waffles?