So...I told a few people that I would write a follow-up to Fixed Points since there were some who were curious about the lives Lucy and Wyatt led in the timeline where Wyatt rescued Lucy after her car accident. You don't really need to have read Fixed Points to follow this story — my goal was to write something that could be read in isolation or as a companion to the original. I apologize for the length of this monster, but once I started with these versions of these characters, I couldn't seem to stop. Many thanks to my writing pals who cheered me on as I trudged (and I do mean TRUDGED) through this process. And thanks to JennaKaylor for putting up with my incessant line of questioning.
I do realize that I'm posting this on Super Bowl Sunday, so there's a good chance no one will see it, but if there are any of you out there who AREN'T watching football, I hope this doesn't disappoint! I'll be posting the story in its entirety throughout the day and possibly into tomorrow, so please let me know what you think!
SUNSHINE ALMOST ALWAYS
PROLOGUE
Part of Beginning to Understand
~2003~
You ready for this?
Ready as I'll ever be.
Those were the final words he and his grandfather had exchanged before he hopped into his old beater and hit the highway, bound for California. And all because of a mysterious telegram.
He doesn't believe in fate. But this tattered slip of paper has him wondering.
The telegram in question is falling apart now. It's been crumpled and folded and smoothed and read more times than he can count. And he's certain that the prolonged dip in the chilly river water a couple of weeks ago hadn't done it any favors. Now it's oddly brittle and swollen after being waterlogged for so long. And...it might also be nearly thirty years old. Maybe?
He tugs the small square from his wallet and gently unfolds it. For the thousandth time at least, he lets his eyes rove over the now-familiar letters that can barely be ascertained through faint spread of the bleeding ink.
It still doesn't make any sense, and yet he's here, waiting to meet up with the girl he pulled out of a car in a river at the exact time and in the exact place that the telegram mentions.
Western Union Telegram
July 25, 1974
Wyatt,
This message is going to catch you by surprise…
You don't know me yet, but you will someday…
You're thinking of joining the Army. Do it…
You're thinking of moving to California. Do it…
This won't make any sense now, but it will all make sense when the time comes…
You need this, Wyatt...
If you save her, she can save you...
He's still not sure what he's doing with her. He'd been mortified by his performance, or lack thereof, during the dinner her mother had invited him to attend as a thank you, but something had possessed him to ask her to join him for coffee. Maybe it was his wounded pride—his desire to show that he's normally not such a wreck of a human being. Except that he is.
She's cute. Actually, she's beautiful in a really unassuming way, but he's guessing she doesn't get told very often. Even in jeans and a sweater, there's an elegance to her—a refinement that distinguishes her from the girls he's always known. She's a long series of contradictions. She's shy but confident, she's brilliant but humble, she's rigid but spirited, and she's sure as hell the most graceful klutz he's ever known.
It hadn't taken more than five minutes in open, airy, polished warmth of their large house for him to feel the chilly wisps of doubt worming into his mind and heart. Carol Preston seemed to have that effect. He'd seen Lucy's spirit—her humor and her light—fade when her mother looked at her just-so. And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't felt it too. He'd felt the pressure of her stern, appraising stare. He'd seen the disapproval in the way she'd pressed her lips into a hard line when he had described his military plans. He'd seen the flush on Lucy's face and the mortification in her dark eyes when her mother had politely and silently dismissed his potential to become anything more than a passer-by in their lives.
And he'd adored the complete disregard thirteen year old Amy had shown for every bit of the palpable tension hanging heavily over the table when she had announced through a mouthful of steamed vegetables that she thought soldiers were hot and Lucy could use some fun. The sight of Lucy, her head in her hands, grumbling through her mortification and threatening her younger sister's life, had brought a smile to his face. So in spite of Carol Preston's continued assault on his worthiness—all delivered with a sugary tone and a plastic smile, mind you—he had smiled openly at Lucy, who had looked utterly ashamed, and shaken his head.
"I'm going to be in Van Nuys for the next month or two...staying with a cousin until I head to basic. Do you mind if I call you? Or text you? We could maybe get some coffee...or something?"
A split-second flare of surprise lights her face, and then she nods slowly, the surprise gradually giving way to a genuine smile. There's a long pause before she seems to shake herself free of the mild trance she's in, and then a reply rattles out of her.
"Sure...uh...yeah," she agrees, dark eyes glittering prettily. "That would be nice."
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated!
