Beach Haven

by T. I. Lowe

  “Good morning, Linc,” Opal greeted, same as yesterday in all that bubbly happiness. And same as yesterday it annoyed him.

  “Mornin’,” Lincoln replied in a tired voice, still trying to shake the lingering vestiges of the morbid night. It had been filled with images of the rocket attack, twisted into disjointed dreams that made waking up even more bothersome. He’d lain in bed, panting and washed in sweat, wondering if the vise grip of those nightmares would ever alleviate enough for him to find some form of peace. “I’m going to start wiping furniture down in the other tent.” Lincoln scooped up the bucket she’d already prepared and started shuffling away.

  “Wait!” she called out. “I’ve made you cotton candy.”

  A quick glance over his shoulder found her skipping toward him with the cloud of pink candy held high like a confectionery torch. “It’s eight in the morning,” Lincoln pointed out with a good bit of grit, hoping it would send her in the other direction with the absurd treat. It’s too early to deal with this.

  “Yes, but I thought it would make for a more enjoyable way to start the day . . .” She paused when he shook his head, but only briefly. “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. This circus stuff was your idea.”

  That had him turning completely around and giving her his full-force you-are-most-definitely-crazy look. The woman practically vibrated kookiness, but her joy was as alluring as that candy in her tiny hand. And boy, did that make him spitting mad.

  “Aha!” Opal pointed the cone toward his face, barely missing the tip of his nose. “You like me in spite of my quirks.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Your gorgeous brown eyes gave it away. They just softened around the edges. That can only mean one thing . . .” Opal shoved the cotton candy torch into his free hand. “You like me, Lincoln Cole. You might as well stop lying to yourself about it.” Giggling, she sashayed back to the refreshment table, the baggy legs of the coveralls swishing as she went. She could play the part of the clown in their current scenario with little effort.

  He was pretty sure he had the flabbergasted sidekick role down pat.

  “Your gorgeous brown eyes . . .”

  Shaking off the uneasiness she pushed on him with that knowing smile of hers, Lincoln said tersely, “I do not like you! And whose clothes are you wearing?” He dropped the bucket and shoved his hat lower onto his forehead, wishing he could wear a complete face mask to help hide from the perceptive woman. Annoyed for even wanting to be there under the ridiculous tent with her, he took a harsh bite out of the side of the cotton candy and did his best not to enjoy it.

  “They were my brother’s until he outgrew them a few years ago. His name is Kane, but I’ve called him Bubba ever since they brought him home from the hospital. I tried my best to talk Momma and Daddy into renaming him, but they were set on Kane for some silly reason.” Opal touched the lapel of the coveralls. “I had these made for him when he used to help deliver furniture. Now he’s off to college and I’m left missing him. He wanted to come home and help me out, but it’s midterm time, so I told him to stay put and focus on that. He’s going to be an architect one day.” She rambled off all that information with pride when Lincoln would have much rather had just a very brief briefing. They were my brother’s would have been a sufficient explanation.

  Three more substantial bites and Lincoln was left with only remnants of sugar stuck in his back teeth and clutching a sticky cone in his fist. Tossing it into the garbage bin, he retrieved the bucket and attempted the trek once more to the other tent.

  “You’re welcome, Linc,” Opal said in that singsong tone.

  “Thank you.” Lincoln ticked his head in the direction of the portable speaker placed on a coffee table. “Cut that racket off. I already got a bellyache as it is.” Truthfully, it had nothing to do with his belly and everything to do with the all-out war raging in his thoughts and his leg. The nightmare episode and pain was pressing down on him so severely, his jaw kept locking up.

  “What would you like to listen to, if not this fun musical selection?” Opal asked with a little too much sugar dripping off her lips, oblivious to the battle he was fighting against.

  Lincoln knew she was being nice enough to ask his preference but sly enough to get a jab in. He couldn’t fault her in that one bit. It was deserved, and it made no sense why she even put up with him. As he took in her warm smile, a longing to share with her what was tearing him apart hit him out of nowhere. His bottom lip betrayed him, right along with his thoughts, and began to tremble before he could stop it.

  The flirty tease slipped away from her beautiful face as Opal grew serious and took a step toward him. Her green eyes scanned every inch of his rigid body, making him feel exposed. “Lincoln, are you okay?”

  Lincoln released a harsh cough and turned his back to her, something he’d become accustomed to as of late. “I’m fine.” His voice betrayed him too, presenting hoarse and weak. The happy tune abruptly stopped playing, leaving a heavy silence to hang in the air. Taking several deep breaths, he pushed the hurt and turmoil deep within and put a lock on it. Once he regained his composure, Lincoln waved toward the speaker. “Anything country I ain’t opposed to.” As he finally made it into the adjoining tent and placed the bucket beside a barrel table, a Sam Hunt song began filtering throughout the space.

  Getting down to work, Lincoln forced his mind to drift to simpler memories. Times that were bright and promising with no dark shadows to dim the excitement. Youth ROTC, basic training, nights of kicking up dust on back roads back home, OCS, shooting the breeze with his unit during those brief downtimes, and traveling overseas to show the enemy who was boss . . .

  Hours slipped by as they steadily worked. It was a relief that the woman’s perceptiveness picked up on his need for just that. By lunch, the knots in his shoulders and neck had loosened and he was able to say a word or two without sounding like a frog.

  After hobbling over to the Jeep, Lincoln eased the leg of his pants up and slapped on a few Icy Hot pain patches around his knee before grabbing the cooler from the back. He brought it over to the tent and even pulled on a half smile while handing Opal the sandwich he’d made her for lunch. Of course, she made too big a deal out of it, thanking him profusely for the boring turkey sandwich.

  “This was so thoughtful of you.” Her face lit up as she unwrapped the sandwich.

  Lincoln shrugged while placing two sandwiches, a couple packs of crackers, a bag of carrots, three apples, and two bananas on the table. “Gotta eat.” He placed a bottle of that weird raspberry tea she liked by her sandwich and slid an apple and banana over too. They ate in silence, him tearing into the food with gusto while Opal slowly nibbled.

  Sharing the meal was pleasant enough, but once they got back to work, somehow Opal’s mute button had stopped working, and Lincoln couldn’t figure out for the life of him how to press it again.

  Opal jabbered on and on about nonsense while flitting near him like an annoying fly. He’d speed up to get a few pieces ahead of her, but she remained right on his heels. All the while, her heart-shaped mouth never took a break. For some odd reason, he wanted to be in the woman’s atmosphere but at a safe distance. Too close and she’d suck him into her zany orbit and a catastrophic collision would surely follow. Every time she approached him with popcorn or a bottle of water or some other offering, he shuffled in the other direction.

  No matter, that day ended and the next day showed up to find Lincoln going back to help Opal, all the while wondering why it was impossible to just stay away. He chalked it up to wanting to make amends for his past rudeness and he threw in some pity for her situation to round it out. Life might have sullened him, but his manners were still somewhere deep inside, and he was genuinely ashamed of how he had treated her.

  It took two more days to finally get all of the pieces washed down, and in those two days, two things began to nag at Lincoln. First, the throb in his leg escalated to higher levels of pain no matter how much ibup
rofen he threw at it. And second, that scent of honey nagged him until he finally understood where it was coming from.

  Yesterday, Opal had to work on a dresser she had fashioned out of mismatched parts from several other dressers. It took quite a bit of sanding on a few of the drawers to get them to move with ease. There was no denying the fact the woman had a gift and knew what she was doing. Not many could come up with the strange refurbished pieces and actually create them in a functioning way. As she worked, he noticed the scent of honey mingled with the more robust scent of sawdust when he was close to her. He began hovering around just to draw in the aroma, never having imagined that the odd combination could smell so appealing.

  Today the combination was slightly different, with the honey entwining with the polishing wax Opal was applying to the finished dresser. He finally figured out she carried the note of honey along with whatever project she was working on at the time. As if the piece somehow became a part of her. He didn’t even realize he’d leaned in to take in another breath of her sweet air until she grew still and eyed him.

  “Why do you keep sniffing me?” Opal asked, holding the pot of wax in one hand and the polishing rag in the other. Her outfit for the day was made up of Army-green corduroy pants and a flannel shirt. All of those wild curls were tucked underneath a knit cap, making her look like she should be trekking through the mountains instead of dawdling seaside.

  Lincoln straightened and took a few steps back. “What? I ain’t sniffing you! Just breathing.” He grumbled a few sentiments under his breath while hobbling away from the distracting smell. “Sniffing you . . . Stupid . . . Can’t a guy breathe? Sheesh!”

  Once he had a few tables between them, Lincoln chanced looking at her and found Opal rubbing the wax into the top of the dresser while giving him a sardonic smile. The woman always looked at him like she had a secret, and that annoyed him even further. The irritation escalated and the pain in his leg joined in, and by late afternoon when Carter showed up to help load the dresser, Lincoln was ready to boil over in more than one sense of the word. Even though the air was comfortably cool, a fine sheen of sweat pressed against his skin and his gut was on fire from the vexation of . . . well . . . of everything. He was so angry that he’d lost sight of what had him so angry in the first place.

  It took both guys to wiggle the furniture into the back of Opal’s Volkswagen van. Of course, the weird van was the same teal color as the store with the same logo on the side. It looked silly in Lincoln’s opinion and he said as much, along with several other haughty comments.

  “These tents stink.”

  “Stop humming! You always got to make noise!”

  “Why can’t they be done with that roof already?”

  “The wind is too loud.”

  His rant kept on until Carter walked over and presented him with a king-size Snickers, slapping the candy bar against Lincoln’s chest.

  “Eat this,” Carter ordered.

  “Why?”

  “You’re an extra-special kind of cranky today. I’m hoping that candy bar will take you from being the grumpy bear that needs to go back into hibernation and turn your tail into sweet Bambi.”

  “Aww. Lincoln is a cute bear. A Bambi character wouldn’t fit his frame,” Opal teased while narrowing her eyes at Carter. “Now stop goading Linc. He’s tetchy enough without provocation today.” Opal formed the statement properly, something else he’d complained about earlier—her going back and forth between country slang and proper language. She breezed by and snatched the candy bar that Lincoln had been holding out like he was ready to throw it.

  “Hey! That’s mine!” Lincoln watched as the lumberjack sprite unwrapped the candy and took a big bite.

  “You don’t want this,” she garbled around a mouthful, her cheeks poking out. “It has nuts in it. They’ll get stuck in your teeth and then you’ll have something else to complain about, and I, for one, think you’ve reached your limit on that for the day.” She took another substantial bite and chewed it thoughtfully. “Carter, would you be a peach and help me deliver this dresser?”

  “Sure,” Carter answered.

  “That’s my job,” Lincoln replied at the same time.

  “No worries, Linc. I think it’s time you head home for a nap.” Opal skipped off and hopped into the van, leaving him fuming.

  Carter clamped a hand down on Lincoln’s shoulder with concern set in his eyes. It was all the angry man could do not to bristle at his friend’s touch. “Seriously, man. Are you okay today?”

  “I’m fine. Just need a nap apparently.” Lincoln shrugged off Carter’s hand and hobbled to his Jeep.

  The nap happened without Lincoln’s permission. One minute he was sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to get a grip on his rage and the escalating pain; the next thing he knew he was waking up to a new day. The pain continued vibrating through his leg, but the rage had withered into a hazy sluggishness. Skipping the physical therapy session that morning as planned wasn’t an option. Something new was wrong and he had to get it fixed, pronto.

  Coastal Orthopedics and Physical Therapy was a combination clinic that Lincoln’s therapist from back home had recommended. He sat in his Jeep and stared at the building. It was an unassuming tan structure with the backdrop of the ocean behind it. His eyes roamed over the deserted beach, remembering days he’d spent just south of here on a surfboard with August, Carter, and their other buddies. He shifted in the seat as he reached back to grab his cane. The slight movement sent a thunderbolt up his leg, reminding him that his surfing days were history. Gripping the cane, it was all he could do to restrain himself from bashing the dashboard with it.

  Taking a calming breath, Lincoln let it out slowly as he proceeded at the same sloth-like pace to exit the vehicle before causing any damage. Using his cane like a good patient, he stepped inside and over to the reception area to sign in. A twentysomething woman sat behind the desk smacking gum, her hair dyed a unique shade of gray. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that shade of hair would come naturally and all too soon, but he chose to not speak at all. She’d figure that out on her own, anyway.

  Lincoln tipped his head to her before limping over to the waiting area. The place was decorated in the likeness of a beach shanty. Not very original, but completely inviting, and something about the styling seemed familiar. An ancient crab trap with bleached wood planks on top serving as a coffee table caught his attention. After inspecting it, he moved over to do the same to an old rowboat split in two on the back wall. One half had been refurbished into a TV stand. The other half, split the long way, was being used as low-standing bookcases on either side of the entertainment unit.

  He took a seat in one of the lifeguard stands lined in a row. The legs had been cut down to a normal chair height, and each one was dressed with a nautical-themed cushion. Before he could scope out the rest of the waiting room for other familiarly crafted pieces, a dark-skinned man in blue scrubs appeared from behind a side door and looked right at him.

  “Lincoln Cole?”

  “That’d be me,” Lincoln answered on a grunt while slowly standing up. He offered his hand to the therapist, who returned it in a confident grip. “And you must be Marcus?”

  “Correct. Are you ready to work that leg out?”

  Lincoln held in the grimace, not looking forward to anyone touching the angry part of his body. “Might as well be.”

  The front door swung open and a waft of honey floated in. “Oh, good! I’m not late!”

  Brow furrowed, Lincoln turned to find Opal standing right behind him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to keep you company.” Opal presented him with a hopeful smile, her bright-green eyes wide and friendly.

  “I’m good.” He pointed toward the door. “You’re free to skip back to wherever you just came from.”

  Opal clapped her hands quietly. “I’m so glad to see you’re in a better mood today . . .” Her gaze drifted to the cane in his grasp. “Oh, and you’r
e finally using your cane.”

  Right then and there, he understood her kookiness was only a front. The woman was too sly and intuitive for his likings. Each one of her odd attributes had purpose. He just didn’t know her well enough to read what was behind it yet.

  Lincoln cut her a look before sliding a friendlier one to the therapist, who had his arms crossed and was looking a little suspicious. “I use my cane.”

  “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you with it,” Opal interjected.

  His eyes snapped back to her. “Go away.”

  The glare and sharp tone should have had the tiny woman retreating. Instead, she stepped around him and gestured for the therapist to lead the way. “Marcus, I feel Linc has been joshing me over the severity of his injury. I need to know he’s okay to work with me.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Opal, you know how HIPAA works. I’m not allowed to discuss his health with you.”

  She waved off his concerns. “Oh, I know. I’m just going to be a fly on the wall during his appointment. Feel free to discuss matters as though I’m not even here.”

  “Like that’s possible,” Lincoln said snidely behind her as Marcus showed them into an exam room. It was a rather large space with an exam table he chose to sit on and a section with exercise and PT equipment.

  “It’s your choice, Lincoln, on whether she stays or not.” Marcus opened a small laptop and began typing something.

  “There’s no getting rid of her,” Lincoln mumbled when she took the cane from his hand and propped it against a chair like a good helper. It was the first time he had someone with him during an appointment in a long time. Sure, his family wanted to support him, but he’d shut them out, wanting to prove he could do it on his own. “So y’all know each other?”

  “It’s a small town,” Opal answered. “Everyone knows everybody.”

  “Opal decorated the waiting room for me. My wife and I love her eclectic furniture pieces.”