by Jenny Hale
“I’ll tell him you want him to play when I talk to him. I asked him to call me as soon as he gets a chance.” She shifted Robby’s weight on her legs. “He didn’t mean to run off like he did. He just had to go back to work.”
When she looked up, Sydney was staring at her, an indecipherable expression on her face. Hallie tried to question it with a look, but Sydney turned her head toward the blowing wind. The waves rushed into the shore, lapping hungrily under the dock, the sky above them a lush shade of gray, billowing in formations that made them appear to be dancing in the wind.
“We should probably get inside before it pours,” Sydney said. “And we’ll want to be inside to soften the mood. When Uncle Hank gets up, Mama’s going to try to convince him to let her bring that Lewis guy over. She wants to call Lewis.”
Hallie stood up. “Yeah, we should probably get inside.”
But they were just a tick too late.
“How dare you suggest calling him?” Uncle Hank bellowed from down the hallway as they arrived at the cottage. He was awake and clearly not very happy at hearing the news that Mama was in possession of Lewis’s number. But then, as Hallie, Sydney, and Robby entered the room, he added more quietly under his breath, “He’s not coming into this house.”
A clap of thunder shook the walls.
Robby ran over to grab the box of colored pencils and more paper. He set Ben’s picture down on the table and pulled a clean sheet from the stack.
“At least let us know how Aunt Clara knows him,” Mama said, shutting the windows as the rain began sheeting down. The manic tinkling of the wind chime silenced when the last window met the bottom of its frame. Mama twisted the locks on it before searching Uncle Hank for an answer.
He clenched his jaw defiantly.
“We can’t just continue to have this stand-off. You’re denying Aunt Clara’s wishes. I know she’d have wanted you to move forward with this or she wouldn’t have given me the letter.”
“She’s finally gotten me in a position where I can’t argue,” he said, defeated. His gaze fell to his lap, his lips pursed so tightly they were white with tension and anguish.
Mama’s face dropped in sympathy for her aching uncle. “We can leave it for the time being, but we’ll have to talk about it later,” she told him, her tone gentler than before.
After that, the whole family plunged themselves into a quiet symphony of movement to prepare dinner, the undertaking of a meal at the cottage now a series of trained actions; passing plates and taking one helping before offering the next person the serving dish, whether or not they planned to eat that particular dish.
Just then, Hallie’s phone rang. “It’s Ben,” she said. She felt a new eagerness to hear his voice, but at the same time, she suddenly didn’t know what to say or where to begin. It rang again, flustering her. She needed to be in silence to think, but she didn’t want to let the call go for fear she wouldn’t get another chance to speak to him due to his schedule. “I’ll just grab it on the porch.”
“You’re gonna get soaked,” Mama warned as Hallie headed outside onto the porch, closing the door behind her.
“Hello?” Hallie leaned against the house to avoid the rain.
“Hey.”
The wind whipped around her furiously, the sky darkening to a solid smoky gray and the choppy turquoise waves looking like static as raindrops pelted them. A single jagged bolt of lightning lit up the sky and then dove down into the sea, another loud clap of thunder chasing it. She pressed the phone firmly against her face, gripping it tightly. “How’s the music going?” she asked, unsure of what to say other than, “What the heck is going on with us?”—a subject she didn’t want to approach just yet.
“Good.” With the phone clamped to her ear, she could hear his light breathing on the other end of the line despite the gusts of wind and the rain. His breaths sounded the way they did when he was worried. “I’m sorry I left so quickly.”
“When can you come back?” They had a lot to talk about: what had happened between them, and if Hallie could muster the courage, they needed to discuss why they could never have another moment like that again.
“I’m not sure…” His voice was gentle.
“Robby’s upset that you left. He wanted to play football with you. He said you told him you would. I explained about your work.”
A frustrated groan came from the other end of the phone. “Damn it,” he said in a whisper. “I forgot I’d mentioned that to him. I had no idea when I offered that I’d have to leave.”
“I know. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
He blew air through his lips loudly. And then silence. She could feel his deliberation all the way from Nashville. “Tell him I’m coming back.”
An unexpected tightness seized Hallie’s chest. Ben was coming back, and while she couldn’t wait to see him, she didn’t want to have to face telling him the real reason she and Jeff didn’t make it. “He’ll be so happy,” she said instead.
“I’m glad. Hey, I’ve gotta go…”
“Okay.”
“Tell everyone I miss them.”
“Will do.”
“And Hallie?”
She tipped her head against the house and closed her eyes, afraid to hear what he had to say to her. She didn’t know what she wanted him to tell her, but a distress like no other swam through her. Perhaps it was the fear of change, of things being different between them, of having to learn a new normal, a normal where they both found themselves having unexpected feelings but couldn’t act on them. “Yeah?” she finally said.
“I miss you the most.”
He was changing everything.
“See you soon?” she said, cradling the phone to her face as if it were his hand.
“As soon as I can.”
When she got off the call, Sydney’s warning screamed at her from inside her head. After Ben had let his feelings show even a little, it had sent him all the way back to Nashville. He was certain to stay far away when she told him her secret. Because once she told him that, any relationship that he wanted other than friendship would be completely out of the question. And she hadn’t totally figured out her own, new feelings for Ben. But one thing she did know was that she longed for the feel of his arms around her, to have his eyes on her, his unstill hands caressing her. If she allowed herself to feel what she suddenly wanted to feel for Ben, the only thing that would come of it would be heartbreak. Couldn’t things just be simple?
Hallie went back inside, her hair damp. Another clap of thunder pounded them. Robby was drawing a truck. “What did Ben say?” he asked, his pencil moving across the paper as he sketched the road under it.
“You’ll be happy to know that he’s coming back just to play that football game.”
Robby looked up. “Really?”
“Yep. He doesn’t know when just yet, but he said as soon as he finishes, he’s coming to Firefly Beach.”
“I can’t wait to see him!”
“Neither can I,” Hallie said. And then she locked eyes with Sydney, but turned away quickly, her face burning with the knowledge that everything she felt for Ben was right on the surface for everyone to see.
SEVENTEEN
It was late. Sydney had piled up Robby’s drawings on the table and taken Robby up to get his bath and read stories. Hallie insisted that it was her turn to clean up dinner, and she’d told Mama to relax with her book and put her feet up, so Mama decided to make a cup of tea and head upstairs for a little down time. Uncle Hank had stayed back. He still sat at the clean table, the last one in the kitchen besides Hallie.
“Would you get me a beer from the fridge?” he asked.
Hallie opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a beer for him, and then one for her. “Mind if I have one?” she asked, holding up the other bottle.
“Not at all.”
She popped the tops off the bottles and brought them to the table, lowering herself down across from Uncle Hank.
He took a long, qui
et drink from his bottle and then peered down at the label, pretending to inspect it, but it was evident that he was gathering his thoughts. “Your aunt is making this very difficult on me.” He looked up. “I don’t understand why she would leave anything to Lewis.”
“Who is he, Uncle Hank?” Hallie held her bottle with both hands, leaning forward in interest.
“He’s no one important. He hasn’t been in my life for over fifty years, and I’d rather keep it that way… But I think I might need to read her letter. I want to see what Clara says about him. It’s tearing me up inside.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tattered pink envelope. It was creased in half, still sealed, with his name in Aunt Clara’s script on the outside. He set it on the table and stared at it, tipping his beer up to his lips for another drink.
“Do you want me to stay, or would you like to be alone?”
“Stay. Please.” He pushed it toward her with his fingertips. “In fact, would you read it to me?”
A lump formed in Hallie’s throat as she pulled the crumpled envelope toward her. The corners were worn, presumably from being in Uncle Hank’s pocket—he must have carried it around just like Hallie had carried hers, unable to let go of the last tangible piece of Aunt Clara. With Hallie’s own emotions on the surface, it would be nice to hear her voice, even if only in her mind as she read the writing.
She straightened her shoulders to keep away the pinch that always came whenever she faced life without Aunt Clara head on, and picked at the edge of the envelope flap until she had enough space to slide her finger underneath and free it from the seal. In a split second, she was holding the letter, that familiar script scrawled across the page, beckoning her eyes to decipher it. Uncle Hank took a heavy drink from his bottle as she read.
My Dearest Hank,
I’m praying you’ll actually read this. You’re as stubborn as anyone I know, and even as I write it, I’m worried that you’ll be so annoyed with me for getting to paradise first that you’ll grudgingly carry this letter around and never hear the words that I want you to know. So if you’re reading this, you’ve already surprised me…
Hallie looked up at him and smiled.
First of all, I want you to know that if I have the chance at all to be with you in death, I’m there. My chair at the table is full. And I’m looking at you with adoring eyes the same way I did every night, just like those quiet summer evenings after the family had headed home and we were both exhausted from their visit. Remember the bliss we shared, just knowing how, in a small way, we’d helped to raise Hallie and Sydney, and now they were adults who’d gone on to have their own lives? We would just sit in the silence and smile at each other.
Uncle Hank didn’t glance over at the chair like Hallie had, his gaze remaining on the letter, but his eyes filled with tears. Her own eyes clouding up, Hallie stood and walked over to the place where Aunt Clara always sat and scooted the chair away from the table a little, as if Aunt Clara had just gotten up and then returned to her own seat. Now, more than ever, Hallie felt her there. She picked up the letter again and began reading the rest of it.
The beautiful thing about life is that we don’t have the answers. It’s human nature to search for them, and if we’re lucky, those burning questions will get answered for us, but even if all of them aren’t, when we look back at what we’ve done, we have so much defining the path of who we are that the little mysteries don’t matter. My advice is this: go blindly into the rest of your life. Do the things that scare you the most because if they terrify you, they have worth to you.
Hank, your years are numbered. We won’t be apart very long. I know you’ll take care of all the business end of this, but you still have work to do, and as I sit here right now, I’m certain that’s exactly why you stayed on this earth after I had to leave it. Knowing how stubborn you are about Lewis, I’m giving you a little push. But ultimately, it’s up to you to make your family whole. There’s nothing holding you back now. I can’t get in the way of it anymore. I saw you staring at the empty chair I left for Lewis every holiday.
Hallie stopped reading, the last line hitting a little too close to home. The way they all noticed Aunt Clara’s absence at the table was the way Uncle Hank had noticed Lewis’s. Who was this man? She probed Uncle Hank with a questioning stare, but he wasn’t budging. Since she couldn’t get the answers from him, she just kept reading.
Every time we got the family together around the table, you looked at that empty chair. And if it weren’t for me, Lewis would have been in it. Go. Fill it. Because my hope for you is that you have not two empty chairs this year at your table but two that are filled—one with Lewis and one with my memory.
Our life together has a breathtaking view from where I sit as I write this. Everyone in your family deserves the kind of love you gave me. I can’t wait to see what you do next. I’ll be right beside you cheering you on.
I love you.
Forever Yours,
Clara
They both sat in silence, the light tapping of the rain on the roof the only sound around them. The fact that Aunt Clara had already thought of the empty space she would leave before it happened rocked Hallie to the core, and made her believe that Aunt Clara was right there just like she said she’d be.
Uncle Hank drained his beer and gently set the empty bottle on the table. His eyes were still misty, his lips pursed to keep them from wobbling.
“Will you talk to Lewis?” Hallie asked, her voice cutting through the stillness.
With labored movements, he shook his head. “I don’t know…”
“You have to. Did you hear what Aunt Clara was saying?”
“I don’t know if I want him in my life.”
“Aunt Clara thinks he should be.”
When he didn’t answer, Hallie went over to the window. The heavy rain had lifted, leaving only a gentle sprinkle through the lights that illuminated the property down to the beach. She could make out the turbulent waters, still upset from the storm—as if they were echoing what was going on right now with the letter. Uncle Hank had to do this. Aunt Clara was a brilliant woman and he had to trust her judgment. She had a perspective that was far clearer than theirs, because when she wrote the letter she didn’t have any more life in front of her to blur her clarity.
Suddenly, Hallie’s thoughts were interrupted by the dark shadow that was walking down the beach away from the property. The figure turned back, staring at the house, unmoving, chilling her to the bone. Could he see her? Her breath caught in her throat.
“Uncle Hank,” she whispered, pulling her phone out slowly with shaky hands, her movements minimal in case the person out there was watching her. She held the phone out of view of the window and only moved her eyes to look down at it as she hit the number for the local police, which she’d saved in her contacts after she’d first heard about the trespasser. “Someone’s out on the beach,” she said quietly, not turning around. “Don’t move. I’m calling the police.” She hit the speaker icon.
The phone rang twice before someone answered. “This is Hallie Flynn at Starlight Cottage,” she said. “There’s an intruder on the property.”
“Tell us where you saw the intruder, Hallie, and we’ll send someone out immediately.”
“He’s on the beach, just down from the gazebo. He’s facing the house right now.” She squinted in an attempt to get a description but she could hardly see a thing. He was just an unnerving shadow, a dark form, making the hairs on her arms stand up.
“I’ve already got two cars headed that way. One has the search dog. The other was patrolling in the area and should be there soon. Lock up and stay put.”
“Okay.” She ended the call and then turned around to face Uncle Hank, the upsetting presence of the stranger at her back making her nauseous. She sat down, pushing her beer away.
Uncle Hank was looking out the window, with a clear view of the man on the beach. “That’s him,” he said. “That looks like the person I see every time. He used t
o come right up to the window, but the problem was that I couldn’t get to it quickly enough to catch a good glimpse of him. I was worried I’d fall. He’d be hiding or gone before I could get there. And when he’s further away, he’s never in a place where I can see more than a shadow. It’s so frustrating. He’s always deliberate with his movements. He never runs. But even still, I can’t get a solid look at him. Ever since you all came, he’s stayed further away.” Uncle Hank cut his eyes at the image. “You all probably scared him off, since you’re young and able to chase him if he gets too close.”
She turned to look at the figure and saw him heading away from them down the beach. Hallie silently prayed the police officers would find him. Would they get here in time? “I’m going to check the doors, and let Mama and Sydney know so they aren’t alarmed when the police come to the door.”
Just as she was leaving the room, she saw the elongated beaming glow from a searchlight stretch across the grass. They were nearly here.
EIGHTEEN
“Do you want to press charges?” the police officer asked Uncle Hank, as Hallie’s uncle sat in one of the two matching dark blue bergère-style chairs that Aunt Clara had delighted in when she’d redone the living room. “We’ve got him out in the car.”
“I think we should bring him in,” Mama said from the sofa. “We need to find out what’s going on.”
Uncle Hank sent a dagger-like look her way.
Sydney wasn’t offering any further advice, clearly allowing Mama to handle this. She rubbed her shoulder, rolling her head around. Hallie felt the same way. Things had taken their toll on everyone, but this was something no one had seen coming.
When the police required the trespasser to identify himself, the man gave his name: Lewis Eubanks. It all made sense now. No wonder he was in no hurry to get off the grounds. He was an old man; he couldn’t move very fast. And this was his family. But why hadn’t he just knocked on the door? What made him cower around, hiding in the bushes? Hallie had never thought of Uncle Hank as a poor judge of character, so if he didn’t like this guy, she was starting to wonder if there was a real reason. Was he a bad seed in the family? Should they be wary of him?
