It was still more than the way he’d looked at Ellie.
She blinked, feeling dazed, but he only flashed a too-bright smile, looking beyond them to the next people in the endless series of handshakes and greetings. “Enjoy the day,” he said, but he was already moving past them. His photographer, a few steps behind, raised his camera to take a picture of them—not just Ellie and Graham, but the man in the Red Sox cap and the chef with his lobster apron and a few others who were standing nearby—but Graham’s whole body stiffened, and he threw a hand out in front of him. The photographer shrugged—confused but unbothered—then trotted after the senator into a sea of potential voters.
“Sorry,” Graham said, turning to Ellie. “I guess I’m still a little gun-shy after last night.”
But she didn’t answer. She just stood there, staring after her father, watching as he was swallowed up by a crowd of admirers. She glanced down at her empty hand, which prickled with the memory of his palm, and when she raised her eyes again, he was gone.
–Would it help if I told you another joke?
–Probably not.
–Okay.
–But… thank you.
Chapter 22
They decided to leave the boat behind.
It was no doubt ready to be picked up by now, but neither of them felt quite up to the job of sailing all the way back to Henley, and though it had been a while since Graham had spent so much time on a bus, it seemed the far preferable option at the moment. It wasn’t that he was seasick exactly—if such a thing was even possible on solid ground—but the feel of the ocean was still with him, even after all these hours, a rolling sensation that made him feel shaky and slightly off balance. Even as they walked back toward the bus stop, the noise from the clambake growing distant, the road felt untrustworthy beneath his feet.
“It’ll be fine,” he was telling Ellie, who kept her eyes straight ahead. “I’m sure the production guys can pick it up tomorrow morning, and besides, they said they wanted it back in one piece, and I think there’s a much better chance of that happening if we’re not in it.”
She nodded in the same blank way she’d been nodding at him for the past ten minutes, with glassy and unfocused eyes that she refused to turn his way.
Not sure what else to do, he kept up a steady line of chatter that sounded nervous even to his own ears. “And anyway, I’m not sure how that lobster roll would feel about being back at sea,” he said, patting his stomach. “I mean, it was good, definitely. But you just never know with those waves—”
“Graham,” she said, and he looked over.
“Yeah?”
“Can we not talk about the lobster roll?” she said, though not unkindly.
He laughed. “Sure.”
At the bus stop, they sat on the wooden bench on the opposite side of the street from where they’d been dropped off earlier. It seemed like it had been hours ago, but Graham knew it couldn’t have been more than an hour, and probably even less. They were still weary and sunburned, but where before the journey had been urged along by a sense of gritty determination, they were now on their way back to Henley, where nothing good could await them.
Graham dreaded having to face Harry, who had been so patient with him last night, and who would surely have been told about the boat by now. He knew he should have stayed in Henley today. He should have faced the consequences and helped deal with the situation himself. But instead, he’d done what he always did: he ran away.
In his real life, it was admittedly more like hiding away, this specialty of his. It had become the worst kind of habit. He’d started to avoid everything, parties and press events and people in general, tucking himself away with only a pig for company. When his life had changed, the world rushed in and he’d responded in the only way he knew how: by creating a cushion between himself and everyone else, a distance that extended even to his parents.
It was easy to blame them. But the truth was, it was Graham’s fault too. He’d told himself they didn’t understand his new life, and then, instead of letting them in, he’d shut himself away. He’d mistaken loneliness for independence, and had become so good at closing himself off from the world that it took an e-mail from Ellie to remind him what it was like to have a real conversation.
She’d been so much braver than he ever was, marching into an unknown town to confront a father she didn’t remember, and who obviously didn’t remember her either. Graham’s parents lived only a short drive away, but it wasn’t until he’d made it all the way to the other side of the country that he’d finally done something about it, and now, it seemed, it was too late. The geography of the thing wasn’t the point; it didn’t matter where they were: there was still too much space between them.
But watching Ellie with her father this afternoon had struck at something deep inside him, something hollow and expansive that he hadn’t even known was there. Her face had been etched with such undisguised hope that he wished he could have done something to protect her, to shield her from what had unfolded. To look at one of your parents and have them look back at you with complete and utter blankness was unimaginable to Graham. He knew it wasn’t the senator’s fault—how could he possibly have guessed that this random girl in the crowd was his daughter, of all things?—but still, he’d burned with a quick and sudden anger. No matter how long it’s been or how far you’ve drifted, no matter how unknowable you might be, there were at least two people in the world whose job it was to see you, to find you, to recognize you and reel you back in. No matter what.
Now he inched closer to her on the bench. The silence between them—usually so full—felt empty and brittle, and he wasn’t sure exactly how to fix it. Up the street, the bus came into view, and there was a long hiss as it pulled to a stop in front of them. Ellie and Graham were the only two people waiting, and they climbed the steps slowly, weary travelers nearing the end of a long journey.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” he said once they were in their seats and the bus had lurched forward again. The ocean was on their left now as they headed back south, and Ellie leaned her forehead against the window. Graham wished he were sitting on the other side, wished that she would lean against his shoulder instead, but he knew she needed space right now. He could understand that better than anyone.
“You’re probably right,” she said, though it was clear her heart wasn’t in it. “It’s just kind of weird, you know? Ever since I was little, I’ve always dreamed about what it would be like to be a senator’s daughter. But I guess I never really thought about being his daughter.” She paused and shook her head. “That probably doesn’t make any sense.”