A Walk Along the Beach

by Debbie Macomber

  “Stop,” he ordered. “That’s between Chantelle and me.”

  Harper slowly shook her head. “Just saying.”

  Frowning, Lucas said, “Kindly keep your thoughts to yourself, little sister.”

  I knew better than to harass him. I’d basically said the same thing when we spoke earlier and had been shut down. I didn’t know what held him back, but as he’d pointed out, his and Chantelle’s relationship was none of my business.

  * * *

  —

  Lucas drove the four of us to the casino, which was less than five miles from Oceanside on the tribal reservation. On a Friday night, the parking lot was nearly full. I was grateful Chantelle had thought far enough ahead to make reservations at the restaurant.

  When we arrived at the restaurant, our father sat waiting just outside. He brightened and stood up as we approached.

  “Lucas. Chantelle.” He shook hands with his son and then hugged all three of us girls. “This is great.”

  “You’d think it was Thanksgiving,” Harper joked. “That was the last time all of us had dinner together.”

  “It couldn’t have been,” I said, and then realized Harper was right. It had been more than seven months since we’d all been together for a meal.

  Chantelle approached the hostess and we were escorted to our table. Friday nights offered a seafood buffet with crab, shrimp, salmon, and all the fixings. We decided to go for that, since Dad was on his dinner break and had only an hour. Seeing how busy the restaurant was, we couldn’t guarantee we’d be finished within sixty minutes if we ordered off the menu.

  When the server came to take our drink order, we collectively held our breath, fearing Dad would opt for wine with his meal.

  “Water’s good for me,” he said, smiling up at the server.

  The four of us released a simultaneous sigh of relief. Once Dad started drinking, he couldn’t seem to stop. The casino had a no-drinking policy for employees while working. If Dad lost this job, I don’t know what he’d do with himself.

  Once we placed our drink order, we went through the buffet and returned to the table with our plates loaded down with an abundance of seafood.

  “How long are you in town for, son?” Dad asked, looking to Lucas.

  “Chantelle and I will head out tomorrow afternoon.”

  Dad looked a bit surprised, but then slowly nodded as if he understood.

  “We’re planning on going to the cemetery to visit Mom in the morning,” I said, wanting to encourage Dad. “Won’t you come with us?”

  Seeing his face fall, I wished I hadn’t asked. Even mentioning that we were going to visit Mom’s grave site was an unwelcome reminder of all he had lost. All that we’d lost as a family. It was beyond our father’s comprehension how the three of us had bonded after losing our mother. All he saw and felt was loss. I understood and didn’t judge.

  “Another time,” he said, and dug into his food as if he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. And he probably hadn’t. I invited him to dinner on Sundays, my one day off from my small café, and he came about once a month, if that, because of his shifts at work.

  “No problem,” I assured him. Reaching for his hand, I gave it a gentle squeeze. He smiled back at me, silently thanking me.

  Our time together passed far too quickly. Following dinner, Dad returned to dealing at the blackjack table. Seeing that we were in the casino, we lingered and played the slots, allotting ourselves twenty dollars each. None of us left as winners, but we had an enjoyable evening and that was what counted.

  It was close to ten by the time we returned to the apartment. Lucas and Chantelle had booked a hotel room, and they left after dropping Harper and me off.

  * * *

  —

  The next morning, Harper and I cooked breakfast and Lucas and Chantelle joined us. I made French toast and Harper fried the bacon. When we finished, I stopped in briefly to check in with Shirley and Alice to make sure everything was running smoothly at Bean There. From what I could tell, all was fine without me, and Leesa was a backup if Alice needed help. It felt good to take an extra day away from the business, although it was never far from my mind.

  “Did Sean stop by?” Harper asked, making a point to mention his name in front of Lucas and Chantelle.

  “Not today,” Alice said.

  “Oh.” My disappointment showed before I could keep it in check.

  “See,” Harper said, cocking her head toward Lucas. “She doesn’t want us to know she likes him, but she does.”

  I could feel the color fill my face.

  “I’m sure he’ll be back on Monday,” Alice assured me.

  Embarrassed, I tried to pretend it was no concern of mine.

  We stopped off at the local market to purchase a large bouquet of colorful spring flowers for Mom, along with a bottle of water so they would remain fresh. The mood was somber as we headed to the cemetery. Because of our frequent visits, we had no problem finding Mom’s grave site.

  Lucas poured the water into the small vase and I set the bouquet inside. Then we bowed our heads and each said our own special greeting to the mother we so deeply loved and would always miss.

  Harper looked up and her gaze drifted from me to Lucas. “I have something to tell you…I probably should have before now.” She paused and tears clouded her eyes.

  I reached for her hand and she gripped hold of it so hard I nearly cried out.

  “When I was the sickest, when I was sure I was going to die, Mom came to me.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Willa

  “Mom came to you?” Lucas repeated.

  Harper nodded and smeared the tears across her cheeks. “For a long time, I thought I must have been hallucinating, but the more I think back to that day, the more I realize she was there. Mom was with me.”

  “You actually saw her?” Lucas asked, looking as stunned as I felt.

  Harper hesitated before answering. “I…I don’t think I saw her as much as felt her presence. I knew she was there, although I don’t know how I knew…I just did.”

  “You said she spoke to you?”

  “I didn’t hear an audible voice, if that’s what you mean. It’s hard to explain. I was so sick and weak; everything hurt. Nothing seemed to make it better. Willa had been with me all day and refused to leave my side until you came,” she said, looking to Lucas. “You convinced her to take a break and go with you down to the hospital cafeteria, so for the first time I was alone.”

  “What happened?” I asked, struggling to hold back my own tears. The fact Harper had managed to keep this to herself for this long shocked me. Not once since she’d gone into remission had she mentioned anything about this incident.

  Harper nodded. “It was at a point where I didn’t care any longer if I lived or died. Sick as I was, I would have welcomed death just to make the pain go away.”

  If memory served me right, it must have been soon after the initial treatments began. Harper was in the hospital twelve days for the first round of chemotherapy. She lost all her beautiful blond hair, but that was the least of her problems. The treatments left her violently ill, and to complicate everything, she developed an intestinal infection. We were told this was a common side effect of chemotherapy. In Harper’s case, it had almost been a deadly combination. Fearing we were going to lose her, I was at her side almost twenty-four/seven.

  “The thing is, I kept drifting in and out of sleep. After Lucas took Willa away, I felt this strange comfort. I still hurt and would have done anything to make the pain stop. That was when I felt a presence in the room. Not a physical presence, like a nurse checking on me. A spiritual one. Right away I knew it was Mom. I didn’t hear her voice, but I felt it in my heart just as if she had spoken. Mom told me I needed to hold on. That I would survive, and I did.”

  “Yes, you did,” I said
, blinking back my own tears. “And look at you now. You’re climbing one more mountain.”

  Harper smiled at me through her own tears. “Yes, I am. Mount Rainier, here I come.”

  * * *

  —

  Monday, I found myself waiting for Sean to stop by and was disappointed when the morning passed without my seeing him. Harper almost had me convinced that he was interested, and I’d been foolish enough to believe her.

  Harper dropped in between classes, as cheerful as ever. “Has Sean been here today?” she asked, as I made her the drink she had created with kale, wheatgrass juice, and protein powder, then dished up her favorite whole-grain spelt brownie.

  Doing my best to hide my disappointment, I shook my head. “Not today.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, pouting a bit. “That’s disappointing.”

  “I told you he wasn’t interested.” I was intent on making busywork at the counter. Alice had phoned in sick, but I had a feeling it had more to do with fun over the weekend than any virus. As a result, I was left manning the counter single-handedly. Shirley had made it clear when I hired her that she was no barista and preferred to bake and stay in the kitchen.

  Harper finished her brownie and returned to work and I went about my day. Near closing time, Sean arrived. My heart did a little jig when I saw him. Thankfully, the business had died down and it was only the two of us in the café.

  “Your usual?” I asked when he stepped up to the counter.

  He nodded. I noticed he looked tired. “Busy day?” I asked.

  “Busy weekend,” he answered, holding my look. “I was on a last-minute assignment. The timing couldn’t have been worse.”

  I was curious and wanted to question him but wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate. I knew next to nothing about his work and wished I did. If I was more like Harper, who naturally engaged people, I would have encouraged a conversation.

  He lingered for a moment and it seemed neither one of us knew what to say. “I suppose I should be going,” he said. “Before I do, I have something for you.”

  “For me?” For the first time I noticed he had a yellow manila envelope with him. He handed it to me. When I opened it, I found a beautiful black-and-white photo of the front of Bean There. Staring at it for several moments, I didn’t know what to say. Even though the photo lacked color, the shadows and the lighting offered a warm, welcoming sensation. “Sean,” I whispered as I pressed my hand over my heart. “This is…perfect.”

  “I wanted to be sure you liked it before I framed it.”

  “I…love it. Thank you…I hardly know what to say.”

  “No thanks necessary. It was something I wanted to do.” He turned away, prepared to leave.

  More than anything, I wanted him to stay. “Ah, it’s pretty quiet, if you’d like to sit for a bit?” I asked, stopping him.

  He hesitated. “Will you join me?”

  “Um, sure, but if someone comes in, I’ll need to get up.” This would be the first time ever that I’d prayed for a lack of business.

  “Understood.”

  I made myself a latte and joined him, my hands trembling, nervous and feeling awkward. Sean didn’t seem any more at ease than I was.

  He smiled when I sat down and I released a small sigh, wondering how best to start the conversation. I knew most everyone enjoys talking about themselves. When I heard that Sean was a photographer, I was intrigued, even more so now that I’d seen his work. I would treasure the photo he’d given me. With a single picture, he’d managed to capture everything I’d hoped my small coffee shop would be.

  “How did you get into photography?” I asked. “Is it something you’ve done all your life? I hope you don’t mind me asking.” I glanced down at the photo once more, impressed with his talent.

  “I don’t mind in the least.” He stretched out his arms and held on to his cup with both hands the way he had earlier. “I started out with another career that unfortunately didn’t pan out. It was a major disappointment, and afterward I floundered, unsure what I wanted to do. For years I’d had a one-track mind. For a time, I was angry and lost.”

  “That must have been unsettling.”

  “It was. I’d always enjoyed photography and had played around with it for years. I was bored and killing time, taking photos. It was my dad who suggested that I go into photography for a career, since I was so interested in it. His encouragement was all I needed.”

  “Sometimes all we need is a nudge.”

  “Dad was right. Soon I lived and breathed photography. It filled the void and gave me the opportunity to pour my passion and energy into something I genuinely loved. And the beauty of it was that I didn’t need a degree or a certificate.”

  “Did it take long for you to make a living?”

  His responding smile said more than words.

  “It wasn’t easy in the beginning, but I managed. I’m grateful I’d made enough money in my earlier career so that I was able to make an investment into the equipment I needed and had the time to develop a portfolio.”

  I noticed that he seemed evasive about his previous job, and while I wondered what he’d done, I didn’t ask. If he didn’t want to tell me, then I wasn’t about to put him on the spot.

  “I took a few classes and got a job working for a fine art photographer.”

  So he’d learned on the job, the same as me. I’d worked as a barista while in college. I’d enjoyed the work and made a lot of friends. I’d been terribly shy as a teenager, still was, but not nearly as bad as before. Having to greet people and make light conversation had helped me tremendously with my shyness.

  “What was your first sale?” I asked.

  He grinned, his look almost boyish. He pushed a lock of sandy-colored hair from his forehead. “A garbage dump.”

  “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

  “Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. It was the glass recycling center. I happened by one day to drop off my recyclables. The sun broke out from behind a cloud and shone down on the glass in a large storage bin. Light bounced around the multicolored glass stored there. I was never without my camera. I grabbed it and took a zillion pictures until I got the right one. I submitted it to a local magazine and was paid a whopping fifty dollars.”

  “Enough for a bottle of champagne,” I said.

  “I worked hard to build my portfolio and eventually was able to make enough to support myself.”

  “It’s clear you enjoy your work.”

  “I do. Very much.”

  “You were on assignment this weekend, you said?”

  “Yeah, in Seattle. I finished editing the shots this afternoon and decided to take a break.”

  His gaze briefly met mine. I could be wrong, but his look seemed to say he wanted to see me more than he needed the break. While I longed to believe that, I doubted it was true.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  He was about to say something more when a customer entered the café. Although reluctant to leave, I had no choice. Taking one last sip of my latte, I stood. “Thank you again, Sean. This photo means more than I can say.”

  “I’m glad.” He stood with me and said, “Let me frame it for you.”

  “No, please, let me do that. Thank you again.”

  I was sad to see him go. In those brief moments I felt that I’d gotten to know him a bit more. How I wished we could have talked longer.

  * * *

  —

  By the time I closed for the day and got the dough mixed for the following morning, I was exhausted and at the same time exhilarated. Although hesitant to admit it, I knew the smile I wore was due to Sean’s visit and the photo he’d given me.

  When I arrived back at the apartment, Harper was lounging on the sofa. As soon as I walked in the door, she catapulted off and stood before me. Guilt wa
s written all over her. My sister was incredibly easy to read.

  “What did you do?” I asked, not giving her a chance to speak.

  “Don’t be mad.”

  I froze, afraid to discover what scrape she’d gotten herself into this time. “Why would I be mad?” I asked tentatively, waiting while I held my breath.

  Rubbing her palms together, she paced in front of the sofa, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry, Willa, but I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t say no.”

  “No to what?” I asked, lowering my voice.

  “Wait here.” She held out her arm to keep me from following her. Hurrying into her bedroom, she returned with a small white kitten cuddled up against her midsection. She held it as though it was the most precious object in the world.

  “You got a cat?” I cried, aghast.

  “A kitten,” she corrected.

  “Who will grow into a cat.” Did I seriously need to remind my sister that this kitten wouldn’t stay small?

  “Yes, I know, but isn’t she adorable?” She stared down lovingly at the white puffball.

  “She?” I could already see the vet bills mounting.

  “Well, I think she’s a she. It’s hard to tell. She could be a he, which is why I chose a generic name.”

  As hard as it was, I felt I needed to remind her of what we already knew. “Harper, our lease states that we aren’t allowed to have pets in this apartment.”

  “Who will know?” she asked. “Think about it, Willa. When was the last time we saw our landlord?”

  She had a point. If we paid the rent on time, there was no reason for the landlord to make a visit.

  Tucking the kitten below her chin, Harper rubbed its tiny head. “I named her Snowball.”

  “Snowball,” I repeated, which I had to admit was the perfect name.

  “You aren’t upset, are you?”

  “Honestly, Harper, we can’t keep her. We could get kicked out of the apartment if anyone finds out.”