The next morning, Zack showed up at her door wearing paint-streaked shorts, a wrinkled button-down, and carrying a handful of wildflowers. Be still my heart.
“Thought I could walk you to your mailbox,” he said.
“Charmer.”
Liddy doubted that he could have known what waited for her inside that metal box. She pulled out the large, white envelope, and just stared at it a few seconds.
“Something you’ve been looking for?”
Liddy slid a glance at him. “Divorce papers.”
He nodded once. “Ah.” Then he turned her away from the mailbox and grabbed her hand. “C’mon. Let’s drop that off at your apartment and take a walk.”
The divorce had long been decided, and Liddy had anticipated the delivery of the final declaration. She’d even contemplated various ways to celebrate the package’s arrival—fancy dinner out (too expensive), cruise to the islands (too cold), skinny-dipping in the sea (still thinking about it).
In the end, she felt content to wander aimlessly on the beach with the mysterious Zack. Maybe he was exactly what she needed to accelerate her healing. She’d never met someone so obviously not in a hurry. By the time they made it back to the condo complex, they had traversed more of the sand than she ever had on her own.
The sun warmed her face as she leaned back against the rubber-slatted lounge chair on the pool deck. She’d never seen a soul swimming here since she moved in, but she supposed that could be because it was still winter. Although winter in California was a bit of a joke, really.
“I’ve got a bottle of champagne chilling at home and my roommate’s nowhere to be seen. Wanna celebrate tonight?” Zack asked her as they contemplated the sky.
She turned her head in his direction. “I would love to.”
And that’s how she, a brain surgery survivor, ended up in the arms of an artist on the evening that her divorce became final.
* * *
As he slipped in through the back door to his office late Monday morning, Beau could hear the counselor’s voice in his head. Not that he’d actually gone to see one, but if he had sought counseling for his lingering grief, he felt quite sure the words “do what makes you happy” or “take a vacation” or even “bury yourself in work” might have shown up in the mix.
What he didn’t think he would ever hear was “grow a beard.” He rubbed his hand across the grizzle or “sharp” feel of his skin, as little Madi might say. After the poor child nicked her tender skin on his face, he’d shaved and kept it up each morning. Unlike his brothers and father, Beau spent Christmas week beardless.
But today was different. The weekend had begun nicely enough with a stroll downtown after work … he shook his head. No time for memories. If he didn’t have so much work to do, he’d pack a bedroll and some food and head into the wilderness of Yosemite. A man could get lost for a good long time in those sacred mountains.
As luck, or lack thereof, would have it, he had more work on his plate than he knew what to do with. Great for business—and burying oneself—but not so much for mindless meanderings in the great outdoors.
Jill leaned in through the doorway. “Good,” she said. “You’re back. I just dropped off a stack of messages and four proposals for you to sign.”
He dropped his satchel onto the floor and kicked it under his desk. “Got it.”
“So, you’ll do those soon?”
He sank into his seat and began logging into his computer. “Uh-huh.”
“Beau?”
He didn’t feel like it today. Jill’s nagging. Loved the woman as an assistant, and as a friend, but he feared that if he were to tear his eyes from the screen, she would clearly see “get out of my face” flashing in his eyes.
Jill was now standing right behind his computer screen. Harsh taskmaster, that one. Sometimes he wondered who employed whom.
He sighed. Of course, she was right. He had let the messages pile up. And though he had worked his butt off on all those proposals, he’d yet to finalize even one of them. Reluctantly, he was thankful for Jill. And her nagging self.
“Are you going to look at me?”
He glanced up.
She scrutinized him and nodded succinctly. “Huh.”
He frowned. “What?”
“You’re growing a beard.”
He touched his face.
“It’s kind of patchy, but the girls will like it.”
“What girls?”
“Oh, you know, the young ones who go for that sort of thing. Makes you look rugged,” she said with a gravelly growl and he had to hold back what tasted like revulsion. He had never imagined Jill as the growling type.
“I’d thank you for the compliment, but my guess is that you didn’t mean it that way.”
Jill laughed. “To each his own, Beau. If you suddenly want to become a mountain man, then that’s your prerogative. Who am I to say? We will need to have the photographer come in to take a new profile photo of you, of course. You know, for LinkedIn, your website, etc., etc.”
He rolled his eyes.
Jill smiled at him in that “I’m glad you’re finally listening to me” way of hers. “So you’ll sign those proposals?” she asked sweetly.
“Sure thing,” he said. “After you deliver my coffee.”
“Touché, boss.”
When she’d gone, he sat back and surveyed the fan of documents across his desk. He had a lot to be thankful for, and the first at the moment was all the business coming his way.
His eyes caught sight of one of the messages Jill had left. From the local physician’s association. He’d been invited to their annual beach picnic, but had not RSVP’d. He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his wrist across his cheek as he did. He couldn’t miss this event … it was too important to his business. In the past, Anne attended with him.
Jill delivered a mug of coffee, black, and left without a word. Beau glanced at the RSVP card again. Sure enough, there was a spot for the number of guests. He picked up a pen and allowed it to hover over the card, then he tossed the pen back down and watched it roll off the mound of documents and onto the floor.
He gulped down a swig of the hot coffee not bothering to let it cool first. Really, he didn’t need the caffeine today. He was antsy enough without a drop of it. He hauled in a breath, rolled one shoulder, and then the other.
Beau stood, and marched over to the small closet on the other side of his office door. He swung it open and stared at the stack of paintings leaning up against the inside wall. His breathing reverberated in his ears. His memory took over, bringing with it the smell of paint and solvents. And color. So much color. That’s what he was missing.
He glanced around his office, taking in its bland walls. He’d always let the bank of windows on one side provide his art, as the view was decent enough. Oh, he had always wanted to hang some of Anne’s work, but perfectionist that she was she had not allowed it. Instead, she’d given him a stack of unfinished (her word) paintings and then presented him with the task of choosing one or two for his walls. She had promised him she would finish her work.
He had never taken the time.
Or maybe he’d always preferred the thought of her having at least “one more project” to complete.
With a surge of his heart, he lifted the bundle of paintings and began to go through them slowly, one by one. Each of them held a memory of its own. The profile of her face as she concentrated … the tinkling of classical music that served as background … the changing light that flowed through westerly windows, constantly frustrating her efforts.
He expelled a breath of surrender and plucked one from the bunch, a forest scene with unexpected bursts of spring color.
Chapter 9
A grey-tinged cloud floated in front of the morning sun as if Eeyore himself had pulled it along with him. Or maybe that was a remnant from too much celebrating the night before. She yawned, tucked strands of uncooperative hair behind one ear, and fought off an odd niggling of �
� what? She couldn’t define it. All she knew was that for a woman who had been given her freedom, she felt anything but unencumbered.
Liddy shrugged off the malaise and padded down the stairs to pick up the mail, half-expecting to find Zack waiting for her. He wasn’t. Inside her mailbox, though, she found an unexpected invoice from the hospital. “Great,” she muttered.
“Everything okay?”
Liddy pivoted around to face the person who had heard a comment for her alone. “Fine,” she said, biting her lip.
“You’re Zack’s … friend. Aren’t you?”
Liddy flicked another glance at the man. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt that bulged midway at the buttons, offering her a view of way too much body hair. Frizzy shoulder-length hair gushed from beneath a clean painter’s cap. “How do you know Zack?” she asked.
“He’s been living with me for a few weeks.” The man pointed in some vague direction over her head. “Although I’ve been in and out of town myself.”
“Oh, of course. You’re his roommate …” Did she even know his name?
“Bob.”
She nodded, her mind a dazed swirl, most likely from one too many sips of last night’s champagne. “Hi.”
“Yeah, hi.” He shifted. “Hey, I’m glad I ran into you this morning. Zack’s snoring like a freight train back at the condo, but his wife left a message on my machine this morning. She’s decided to pop in tonight on her way down the coast. Thought it would be awkward if you two, you know, ran into each other.”
Liddy blinked. A catch in her lungs made it difficult to breathe. Her mind began to spiral, the sensation too raw, too horribly familiar. “What did you say?”
He raised one eyebrow. “About Zack’s wife or what?”
“Zack … has a wife?”
Bob straightened and pushed back his cap, recognition first reaching his eyes and then his mouth pursed a couple of times before he spat out, “Figured you knew.”
Liddy shook her head slowly. “I-I, no. I didn’t.” She looked down, scuffing the sole of her flip-flop against the cement walkway. “And you’re sure?”
He frowned. “I’m not some liar.”
His harshness delivered deep color to her cheeks. She could feel it. He must think I’m … I’m some … oh no … Liddy lifted her chin and hugged her stack of mail to her chest.
“Well?” he cut in.
“Uh …” How had she not known, not seen? Thoughts of confusion, anger, and bitterness rioted in her mind and without another word, Liddy pivoted and briskly walked away. When she reached the bottom of her steps, she ignored him further when she heard Bob call out, “What am I supposed to tell your boyfriend now?”
Inside her apartment she dumped the mail on the floor and collapsed onto her sofa. A rush of tears clawed their way through her insides, scratching her raw. Her sobs came out in sharp gasps.
She grabbed her cell and called Meg, who she knew to be on her way to Florida. “I let him touch me!” she said when her friend answered. The din of airport sounds rattled in the background.
“Liddy? What happened?”
Liddy told Meg about the drifter she’d met, how he complimented her when she felt uglier than a dog that had long needed a bath. “Oh, and last night—”
“I don’t understand,” Meg interrupted. “When exactly did you even find time for a new boyfriend?”
Liddy continued her rant into the phone. “Last night, we drank champagne until so, so late …”
“You drank champagne, Liddy? Even with all your medication …”
“You’re right! I’m so stupid and dumb. And irresponsible.”
“No, you’re not. Stop it. I shouldn’t have said that—I’m the irresponsible one. Let’s start over.” Meg’s voice hung with unshed tears. “Are you okay? I mean, he didn’t do anything to you … physically.”
“Nothing … it was nothing. You know what? I’m fine. Just feeling ridiculous.” She paused. “Oh no! I’m the other woman. I feel like I’ve done to Zack’s wife what Shawn’s bimbo did to me. I hate myself!”
“You didn’t know.”
Her heart raced so hard in her chest she thought it might leap into her throat and out of her mouth. And here I thought Zack was an answer to prayer …
“Liddy, hear me. This isn’t good for you. You need to focus on gaining your strength back, on healing. Stay away from that guy. Promise me.”
“Are you kidding? You think I’d go out with him now?”
“I didn’t mean it that way, but he sounds like a guy who might try to sweet talk you when you’re especially vulnerable. I wish I could be with you tonight so we could tear him to shreds over a pizza, but I can’t.” She groaned into the phone. “It’s just that I know guys like him. He’ll probably show up with flowers and some kind of explanation about his wife not ‘understanding’ him—and he might even be able to pull off that kind of cliché!”
“You know what? No. That’s it. I’m done.”
“Wha-what do you mean?” Meg’s voice rose in pitch.
Liddy clucked her tongue. “I’m not committing suicide, but I am done with men. Forget it! Even if I were to find one who wasn’t totally horrible, I’m no good at relationships anyway.” Her voice became rueful, jagged yet quiet. “I think I’ve proven that.”
“Liddy? Today’s Wednesday, isn’t it?” Her friend spoke gently. “Shake it off and go to that church of yours. You always seem so much better off after one of your prayer meetings.”
She scoffed. “Just what I need … to hang out with perfect people tonight.”
Meg giggled. “Uh, honey? I saw some of the outfits those women were wearing … Birkenstocks and skirts? Trust me—they ain’t perfect.”
“I’ve never seen that.” Liddy’s heart had settled into a more reasonable rhythm now. “Maybe you’re right, though. If I stay here I’ll probably eat a half-gallon of ice cream. And then where will I be?”
“A plus-size clothing store?”
Liddy pressed her eyes shut. It was only mid-morning and already a nap beckoned. “Thanks, friend. I’m going to get some rest, and if I can pull myself together, maybe I’ll try the church thing later.”
“Okay. Love you.”
* * *
As it turned out, she’d been unable to sleep. By the time evening had fallen and she had eaten more dark chocolate than she cared to admit (it is the best kind for you, after all), she longed to get out of the apartment. Too tired to drive, she called for an Uber driver to drop her off at service ten minutes late. That way she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. She slipped into a seat in the back row, miraculously avoiding the glare of an elderly usher who prided himself on seating rule-breakers such as her up front. Even after brain surgery, she was faster than that old guy.
The evening itself was uneventful, but calming. And she needed it that way. The only hiccup was the twist in her gut when she noticed Beau walking in the parking lot after church with the same woman she’d seen him with downtown. Though she had become slightly fixated on the swath of fine bristles on his face, thankfully, he hadn’t noticed her, too.
During the service, when her mind was able to parse through the events of the past week, Liddy realized she needed to take charge of her life again. She had been allowing circumstances to toss her about, but no more.
“Tomorrow,” she said under her breath as the Uber driver pulled up to the curb outside of her complex, “I start over.”
* * *
He’d noticed her. She wore red … how could he not notice? Beau pulled into the driveway of his home and threw the car into park. It lurched to a stop and he hesitated to open his door and see which of his neighbors noticed his less-than-smooth parking job.
He grabbed the basket from his front seat and stepped out into the cool night. The sky was clear. Perfect night to put his feet up in front of the fire and watch something on ESPN. He glanced at the basket of baked goods. Wendy apparently thought he needed to add a little around his middle.
Chapter 10
Liddy arose the next morning, pulled on her yoga pants and a long-sleeve tee, covered her eclectic mess of hair in various stages of growth, and walked across the street to the Farmer’s Market. She had decided to start her “new” life small. There she wandered among the throngs of people vying for non-GMO veggies and fruit. If she ran into Zack, so be it. She had nothing to hide.
Still, the thought of seeing him inflamed her gut and she tried very hard not to think of him again. A sad, lingering commentary left behind was that her dalliance with an artist who’d snowed her, had, unwittingly, brought to mind memories of her recent divorce. It still irked her that she was so terrible at choosing men.
She glanced out to the marina and the boats and the lapping blue seawater … anything that could possibly make the pain go away. When she felt sure that she was able to take on the next challenge, she hoisted her bag of fresh items over one shoulder and headed for home.
“We meet again.”
His voice crept like a thorn-bearing vine up her back and she winced.
“Liddy. Turn around.”
She threw a glance over her shoulder. “Get away from me.”
He gave her an ethereal smile like he was about to follow it up by quoting some kind of sonnet. She pressed her lips together. How could she have fallen for that crap?
Walking on Sea Glass Page 8
