by T. I. Lowe
“And you vowed to honor me. Not abuse me or cheat on me . . .” Her voice rose, so she tried quieting it down by releasing a cough before continuing. “You broke the vows first.”
“You drove me to do those things!”
Sophia sputtered a haughty laugh. “Oh, wow. Who’s being the coward now? You won’t even take responsibility for what you did wrong.” She blinked the sting from her eyes and swallowed the tears wanting their freedom. “And just so we’re clear, you’re the one who demanded control over our finances. It’s after you took over that this mess happened, so don’t you dare try blaming it on me!”
“How can you turn your back on me after all I’ve done for you?” Ty growled.
She rubbed her forehead and tried to tamp down the escalating rage building as quickly as a tornado. “I don’t owe you anything. Have you forgotten we are no longer married?”
Instead of answering her, Ty continued to sling insults mixed with the guilt trip, so she hung up on him and hit Ignore as soon as the phone began ringing again.
Shaking her head, Sophia turned to go put the phone in her office but bumped into Wes standing in the way. His hands, gently yet firmly, grasped her shoulders to steady her. When he kept them there and tilted his head slightly to search her eyes with his attentive ones, an entire conversation seemed to pass between them.
Are you all right?
No.
Will you be?
Hopefully.
“Do you need to talk about it?” Wes finally asked after they stood in silence for several long moments.
Sophia pressed her lips together to keep from unloading the weight of her worries. Even though they were forming a friendship constructed from a foundation of similar heartache, she didn’t want to add to his burdens.
“I’ll listen,” Wes added, bending slightly to try recapturing her gaze, but she didn’t allow it. “Letting it out can be good medicine.”
Truthfully, Sophia was embarrassed by her predicament, which seemed cliché and shallow compared to what Wes had endured. Their pain might have had the same symptoms, but the cause couldn’t have been more different.
“Good medicine would have been using some common sense to keep from getting to this point in the first place.” Her muttered words finally had Wes’s hands releasing her, so she bolted and left a lot unsaid in the hall.
•••
Another celebration showed up two weeks later, and Sophia was actually going to be able to enjoy it. The mess with Ty had finally died down when some other celebrity figure was caught doing something deemed more scandalous than tax fraud.
Labor Day was considered the last hurrah for summer in the beach communities, and most tourists found their way back home after the long weekend, leaving Sunset Cove to settle down for a spell. The Sand Queens had always viewed the holiday weekend as their time to pay tribute to their summer achievements and make resolutions for the seasons ahead. The tradition went all the way back to their preteen years when the achievements had been easier and the resolutions simpler.
While others barbecued and lounged on the beach, the girls would sneak into Driftwood Diner and set up fancy finger foods and summer punch along the counter. For a splash of fun, purple Kool-Aid was always added to the punch, and flashy outfits were a requirement. Early on, the attire was plundered from their mothers’ closets, and then later it was last year’s prom or winter formal dresses. As the adult years knocked on their doors, the flashy dresses evolved to who could dress the tackiest. Opal won, hands down, most years. The girl could come up with a doozy of an outfit on a normal day, even more so when she put forth a little effort in the kooky department.
“This is going to be the best year to date,” Josie mused while setting up the punch bowl. “We’ve never included guys in our fun. Makes me feel all grown-up.”
Sophia placed a platter of crudités on the counter and gave Josie a dubious look. In wonky-patterned golf bloomers that looked more like shorts on her long legs and a silk blouse with a purple bowler hat on her head, she looked anything but grown-up. “We’ve matured greatly,” Sophia said dryly while straightening the front of her psychedelic mod dress. She even lucked out and found a pair of pleather white boots and a platinum-blonde Afro wig.
“Honey, I’m here!” Opal sang out as she entered with a tray. “Momma made us some of those pineapple cream cheese tea sandwiches. Aren’t they just darling?” She held the tray out for their inspection, but both women scrutinized her outfit instead.
Sophia’s hope of winning the tackiest trophy—which was a beauty queen trophy Opal purchased years ago from a consignment shop—plummeted at the sight of her. “Where on earth did you find that getup? You look like a Christmas leprechaun.” Sophia waved a hand at Opal’s ridiculous outfit—a green sequined top with a black bedazzled vest, metallic-gold Lycra pants, and red fur booties. Even the green-glittered headband nestled in the mess of red, blonde-tipped curls sparkled.
Opal set the platter down and shimmied. “You like it?”
“No, it’s awful. You win,” Josie grumbled. She redirected her attention to Sophia. “Wes is coming, right?”
“Yes, but only after I promised another public date.” Sophia wrinkled her nose.
Opal settled on top of a stool and rubbed her small belly. “I’ve never seen two people so much alike. You’re all posh and neat and too stubborn for your own good. What’s so wrong with the dates that you have to give him such a hard time when he asks you out?”
“I’d rather we just hang out in private so there’s no putting on a show for the town, but he insists we go out in public.”
“I see nothing wrong with that. Couples can do both.” Opal shrugged.
“But we are not a couple. Friends, yes. Couple, no.” Sophia adjusted her wig that was as uncomfortable as the conversation.
August walked in from the kitchen entrance with his arms loaded down with bags of chips and a wholesale-size tub of dip. “Yo, ladies.”
“What is that junk?” Sophia asked as she watched him shove the pretty platters aside to make room for the chips.
“Real snacks. I need more than dainty rabbit food.” August opened a bag of chips, peeled the lid off the dip container, and dug in.
The girls watched him crunching away while the floral granny skirt he was wearing swayed as he moved his hips to the beat of the song playing over the sound system. He’d paired the gaudy skirt with a baseball jersey, and his black hair was hidden underneath a big floppy straw hat. On his feet were none other than combat boots splattered with paint.
“Cute skirt,” Opal teased.
August jerked his chin in a manly manner. “Thought you would like it, but those gold pants are killer.”
Heavy limping steps hit the deck outside and produced a giant wearing orange coveralls rolled up to just below his knees with a camouflage beanie on his head. He carried a tray of hot wings and a case of root beer, and that somehow added to his comical appearance.
“Linc, glad to see you managed to put on shoes,” Sophia teased, eyeing his Converses—one navy and one white.
Other than a sardonic glance at her boots, Lincoln ignored Sophia and directed his path over to his wife. He bent down to give Opal a kiss before joining August in feasting on their junk food.
The girls were giving the two men a hard time when the door opened once more. Wes came to a halt and gave each one of them a curious once-over.
“Hey, why’d he get to dress normal?” Lincoln whined, using the back of his hand to wipe wing sauce from the corner of his lips.
“Neanderthal,” Sophia muttered before turning her attention to the preppy man at the door.
Wes smoothed his tie and leveled Lincoln with a haughty look. “I’m wearing a plaid tie with my plaid shirt.” He lifted the hem of his khaki linen pants and showed off the brown leather flip-flops. “This is not normal.”
The girls snickered, and the guys glared with envy.
When it was made clear that the guys woul
dn’t be following the Sand Queens’ traditions, the women banished them to the deck with their junk food and soda and commenced to enjoying their holiday rituals—snacking, dancing, and talking. There was certainly a lot to reflect on since the last Labor Day. One Sand Queen had married her ruggedly handsome prince, and the one who’d married the year before was celebrating a pregnancy. Josie and Opal were in the beginnings of a beautiful time in their lives, while Sophia tried not to be bitter about tripping into a difficult season in which her marriage and career ended in one excruciating fell swoop.
“How about you, honey? Tell us about your summer,” Opal instructed before taking a sip of purple punch. The women were perched on stools at the counter, chatting and grazing on the snacks, but Sophia hadn’t added much commentary.
“Collin is getting the hang of the potty training. Not too many accidents lately.” She smiled, proud of her little boy and appreciative of Wes being so supportive in the matter. “Momma brings him by just before closing each day so he can get his Wes fix. I swear, the boy is all about some Weston Sawyer.”
“I think Wes has been good for the both of you,” Opal said pointedly but moved away from the statement fast enough that Sophia didn’t have time to retort. “How about work?”
Sophia smiled again. “You know, it’s been such a pleasant surprise. Totally opposite of the fast-paced world of consulting high-maintenance clients, but I’m really enjoying the simpler work life. We’re making good progress on converting the filing system to the new software, and I’m figuring out how to customize it to make everyone’s life easier. It’s very gratifying.”
“I had no doubt you’d rock at running that place,” Josie commented, using her napkin to wipe up a dollop of dip from the countertop. “You’ve never met a challenge you couldn’t handle. I’m just so glad it’s agreeing with you.”
“Speaking of a challenge . . . I heard Miss Dalma made another visit to the doctor’s office last week,” Opal mentioned, and both Josie and Sophia groaned.
“That woman is like a wayward toddler.” Josie snorted, shaking her head. She moved her plate to the side and propped up on her elbows. “What I don’t get is how in the world she managed to get her arm stuck inside the crab trap.”
“Well, if anything, Wes really does get a kick out of the challenge of tending to Miss Dalma’s odd injuries. He’s gone on and on about it. It’s too cute.” Sophia snickered, recalling how animatedly he’d spoken about it while they shared lunch that day.
“I thought Vanessa Sánchez moved in with Dalma,” Opal commented.
“She did, but she still works part-time. The other Knitting Club members take turns sitting with Dalma during the day, but that’s pretty much the blind leading the blind.” Josie shook her head. “Most every afternoon August checks on her and she ends up roping him into doing something outlandish. Like last Thursday, when he arrived, Dalma had her small trolling boat wedged between the dock and the bank. Of course, August agreed to take care of it. By the time he got home, he was encrusted with inlet mud and had several oyster shell cuts.”
Sophia wrinkled her nose. “I bet he stunk to high heavens too. Why didn’t they just wait until high tide?”
“Because that was hours away and Miss Dalma’s mind was set on getting it out right then and there. August knew if he didn’t help, she would have tried to do it herself and probably broken her neck.”
“True,” Sophia agreed, thinking elderly minds did indeed work much the same as toddlers’.
While Sophia poured fresh cups of punch, Opal stretched out on the wood-plank floor. “Ugh . . . my thighs are getting thicker by the day.” She slapped her gold-encased hips. “And look at these things. This is not my body!”
Sophia and Josie snickered, and then Sophia explained, “Honey, that’s just the way it is. Your foundation has to be able to balance that big ball of a belly that’s going to show up soon.”
Opal raised her head and glared. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I bet Linc isn’t complaining about all those new curves,” Josie said on a giggle.
As though he had been summoned, Lincoln limped inside and picked up his pixie wife like she was made of glass. After giving her a soft kiss, he placed her on her feet. “No complaints here.” He smirked while swaying Opal to the music. She grinned up at him, and it was easy to tell she was over her thickening thighs and hips. The woman was smitten.
Wes poked his head inside, and once he had Sophia’s attention, ticked his head to the side, a silent request for her to join him.
She pulled the sweaty wig off and shook out her tangled hair while making her way to the screen door, where he remained. “Yes, sir?”
“May I take you home?”
“Sure.” She turned back to the Sand Queens. “Josie, Wes said he’d take me home.”
Josie swiveled around on the barstool and peered at them from underneath the brim of her bowler. “As long as you two behave and he has you home before curfew,” she mocked in a motherly tone, which had no effect due to her silly outfit.
“We’ll do our worst, Mother.”
“Okay. Good night.” Josie waggled her fingers and sent her stool swiveling back in the other direction as August took the seat beside her.
“Good night,” Sophia repeated, following Wes out into the night. The air met her on a refreshing breeze, and she paused long enough to appreciate it. “You guys missed some great dancing,” she mumbled, lifting her damp hair up so the breeze could cool her neck.
“I thought about asking the guys if we should join in, but Lincoln’s leg is swollen, so I didn’t think it was wise.” Wes replaced Sophia’s hands with his and held her hair away from her skin while combing through it. “It’s a medical miracle that man still has his leg.” He recapped the leg injury, using a lot of medical terminology that was over Sophia’s head, but she didn’t mind. Her focus was on the massaging motion of his fingertips along her scalp and neck. Wes could speak about any subject he wanted as long as his fingers continued delivering pure bliss.
Wes concluded the medical commentary and released her hair. Sophia reluctantly turned to head toward the parking lot, but he wrapped his hand around her wrist. “I walked here.”
“You plan on giving me a piggyback ride home then?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“The house is only a mile up the beach. I suppose I could carry you.” Wes turned and bent down. It was tempting to shove him over, but she tamped that idea down along with the chuckle it tried to produce.
“Just let me take these boots off and I’ll be able to manage the mile on my own two feet.”
“Suit yourself.” Wes straightened and helped to steady her as she worked the long zipper on the side of the boot.
Once she had both boots off and tossed into the back of Josie’s truck, Sophia began trudging through the sand beside him. The beach was still lively with folks out and about, so they had to skirt bonfires and gatherings until reaching Wes’s house.
“Do you mind if we sit out on the deck for a while?” he asked.
Sophia scanned the dark space that was barely illuminated by a few solar torches. “I guess not. Why?”
Wes unraveled his tie and unfastened the top button of his shirt. “For one, I’ve not spent much time with just you in the last week. I’d like to catch up. Plus, I found something for you. Give me a minute.” He held a finger up and disappeared inside.
The outdoor sectional sofa had the best view of the giant Ferris wheel just south of Wes’s house, so Sophia chose to sit there. Besides, the giant piece of furniture was downright comfy. Watching the brightly lit wheel slowly rotate, she heard the back door open and close. He sat close beside her and balanced a small gift box on her leg.
She picked it up and weighed it in the palm of her hand. “What’s this?”
“An apology for my failed attempt at fake dating.”
“It hasn’t been a fail.” She tried handing the box back, but he refused to take it.
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“Clearly it has, but this is more than an apology.”
She opened the box and found a delicate silver ring tucked inside. An anchor sat horizontally on top of the band. “It’s lovely.”
Wes took the ring out and slipped it on her left ring finger. “Even though marriage can be fickle, I wanted to give you a ring to remind you of an everlasting love.” He tapped the top of the ring. “The anchor is a Christian symbol of hope. Each time you run your thumb along the back of this ring, you’ll be reminded that no matter how many people break their promises, God never will.”
Sophia moved the ring closer to a beam of light to get a better look at it, moving it one way and then the other, remembering the day Ty slipped a two-carat diamond on the same finger. Sure, she was blown away by the grandeur of the ring and the proposal, but it didn’t hold a candle to the significance of this understated silver band.
Wes reached inside the box and pulled out a small card. “This came with the ring.” He read, “‘We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.’ It comes from Hebrews 6:19.”
“Wes . . . thank you.” Sophia offered him a slight smile and touched the back of the band with her thumb, surprised that he’d picked up on her habit. His attentiveness said so much about him. Undoubtedly he had made one fine husband. “How long were you with Claire?”
He wiped his palms down the sides of his pants and released a heavy sigh. “We were college sweethearts. I went to a women’s softball game my freshman year and was blown away by the agility of the pitcher.” He smiled out into the night, seeming to wander deeper into his past. “I couldn’t take my eyes off the blonde beauty. She owned that field. And by the end of the night, when Claire agreed to go grab an ice cream with me, she owned my heart.”
Starting as college sweethearts seemed like an eternity compared to her mere four years with Ty. Knowing Wes had a better grasp on marriage than she’d ever had, Sophia asked, “What do you miss most about marriage?”
Wes blinked out of whatever memory had engrossed him and glanced at her thoughtfully before focusing on the glowing whitecaps of the ocean. “Sex.”
