A Walk Along the Beach

by Debbie Macomber

  The nurses came and disconnected all the devices and gave us a few minutes to say our goodbyes. Dad and I stood on one side of Harper while Lucas and Chantelle were on the other. No one spoke. None of us could find the words.

  For my part, I couldn’t stop touching Harper’s face, soothing her as I had so often over the last few months.

  Dad left the room and returned. “Pastor McDonald will be here shortly.”

  I nodded. He’d come when we’d lost Mom, too.

  * * *

  —

  The next few hours passed in a blur. We gathered at Lucas and Chantelle’s apartment and made funeral arrangements. Pastor McDonald met us there and prayed with us. His words barely registered as grief consumed me. Vaguely, I was aware that once the funeral was over, I would go back to what my life had once been, without Harper. It didn’t seem real. Didn’t seem possible.

  Not until that evening, when I was mentally exhausted and my eyes burned from all the tears I’d shed.

  Sean still phoned. Not as often as he had after he’d first left, but I could count on him reaching out at least once a day. When I saw his name come up on caller ID, I thought he should know.

  “Willa? Thank God you answered. Babe, we need to talk. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m flying back…I should never have left you.”

  “Stay.”

  “Stay? What? Why would I do that? Don’t you need me?”

  I had needed him, but the job was more important. A foretaste of any future we might have had together. “You’re too late. Harper died this afternoon.”

  His shock reverberated across the wireless connection like a sonic boom. “No. Willa, dear Willa, I am so sorry.”

  “I know…We all are.” There really wasn’t a whole lot more to say. People generally said the same things in situations like this. They were sorry, as if the death were somehow their fault. Or they were sure the loved one would be at peace now. Or in a better place. In the few hours since Harper had been pronounced dead, I’d already heard them all.

  “What happened?”

  “Cancer happened.”

  “I know…I mean…This is a shock!”

  I could tell he was struggling to find words.

  “I know she wasn’t doing well,” he continued, “but I didn’t realize…you know, that death was imminent.”

  I had nothing to say.

  “I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. Oh babe, I had no idea. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I’m so sorry. Will you be in Seattle or Oceanside?”

  “Why?” I didn’t mean to be obtuse, but why should it matter?

  “Why?” he repeated. “So I can be with you.”

  “You haven’t been with me in weeks, why is it important now?”

  “Willa, please. I know you’re in shock and I hate that I wasn’t there for you. But I’ll be there soon.”

  I almost smiled. As far as I was concerned, it was too little, too late. I had nothing left to give.

  “Promise you’ll talk to me,” he urged.

  “Promise?” I repeated, as if this was more than I could manage, and at this point, it was.

  “Willa, please, tell me what I can do to make this better.”

  “Make this better?” I asked, as if that was humanly possible. “My sister is dead, Sean. A bowl of ice cream, a walk on the beach, ten sunny days in a row isn’t going to make this better. Nothing this side of heaven could put a dent in this grief. This loss. This pain. I’m empty. Devastated. You aren’t going to be able to make this better. No one can.”

  “Oh Willa…”

  He seemed to be at a loss for words, which was fine because I wasn’t ready to hear anything more he had to say.

  “Thank you for calling, but please don’t again.”

  “Willa, don’t hang up.”

  “I’m sorry, Sean,” I whispered. “It’s over,” and I disconnected the call.

  CHAPTER 28

  Sean

  After my conversation with Willa and hearing the news about her sister, I didn’t sleep all night. What I’d said was true. I wasn’t clueless. I knew Willa was upset about my leaving so soon after my return from the Philippines. I got the hint when she didn’t pick up my calls. At first I rationalized that she was at the hospital with Harper and had turned off her phone. Then my voicemails went unanswered. So did my text messages.

  When I’d joined Doug in Chicago, I assumed we’d be able to wrap this all up in a couple of days. I’d been wrong. The last bit was intense. We were putting in long days. I did my best, pressing ahead as fast as I could in my effort to get back to Seattle and be with Willa. We weren’t far from completing the comprehensive article with the accompanying photographs. I have to admit that I was proud of how it had come together. Doug knew I needed to leave and said I should go. He would finish up the last bit without me, seeing that I wasn’t offering him much at that point.

  I was thrilled when I was finally able to connect with Willa.

  Learning of Harper’s death had left me in shock. I was sick at heart. My stomach clenched with what a selfish, self-absorbed idiot I’d been. I’d gotten caught up in my career the same way I had back when I played baseball. The entire world revolved around me. Everything was about me and my work, my goals.

  In my stupidity I might well have lost the one woman I loved. With everything in me, I prayed I wasn’t too late and that I could make it up to Willa, that I could help her through this dark tunnel of grief. I refused to believe she meant it when she said we were finished.

  As soon as the plane landed, I raced to get home. I collected Bandit first thing, thanking Logan once again for watching the dog. Bandit didn’t seem all that eager to go with me. After my long absences, he was probably more comfortable with Logan than with me. It looked like Willa wasn’t the only one I was going to have to win over.

  On the way from Logan’s I stopped off at Willa’s apartment and knocked, hoping to see her, talk to her. I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest until I could make things right between us.

  No answer.

  Next I checked in at Bean There and was shocked to see the sign on the door that read: TEMPORARILY CLOSED.

  One of her regular customers worked next door at the candy store. The window displays never failed to attract a crowd, especially when they featured the homemade saltwater taffy.

  I walked over and stuck my head in, grateful to see that Allison wasn’t busy. “How long has Willa’s shop been closed?” I asked, thinking the closure was probably due to Harper’s death.

  Allison, busy at the counter, paused as if to count the days. “Must be more than a week now.”

  “That long?” Willa hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to close. It left me to wonder what else I’d missed with my selfish ambition. What else hadn’t she felt comfortable enough to share?

  “Did you hear?” Allison asked, her welcoming smile vanishing. “About Harper Lakey, Willa’s sister?”

  “I did.”

  Allison shook her head. “Damn shame, you know. She was young, so full of life. And they were especially close. Willa is going to take her death hard. We’re all shaken by it.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have seen Willa in town, have you?”

  Allison shook her head. “Not since I heard the news.”

  “Do you have any idea where I might find her?”

  Again, the shopkeeper had no answer. “If anyone in town would know, it would be Pastor McDonald.”

  I briefly remembered meeting the man. I’d liked him. He was personable and down-to-earth. I located his address on my phone and drove to the nondenominational church where he preached.

  Leaving Bandit in the vehicle, I went to the church and found the doors locked. On my way back to the car, I noticed a parsonage behind the church and decided to check there.

>   I knocked several times before anyone answered. A middle-aged woman opened the door to me. “Can I help you? Before you ask, we’re not interested in buying anything.”

  “I’m looking for Pastor McDonald,” I explained, amused that she thought I resembled a door-to-door salesperson. Sleepless, hours in the air, plus the long drive to the ocean from Seattle—no doubt I looked disheveled.

  “Pastor is with the Lakey family.”

  “Do you know where that might be? I’m a friend of Willa’s,” I said, hoping that would explain my interest.

  She looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing. I must have passed muster, because she said, “Heath mentioned something about them all meeting up at the funeral home.”

  “Thank you,” I said, grateful for the help.

  My impulse was to race there, but then I paused, having second thoughts. I had Bandit with me, and I was a mess. This was a private time for Willa and her family to plan Harper’s burial. Now wasn’t the time or the place for me to go bursting in like some savior and sweep Willa into my arms.

  Following our conversation from the night before, I feared Willa never wanted to see me again. As eager as I was to resolve this distance between us, I had to accept that this wasn’t the right moment.

  Depressed and at a loss for how best to make matters right, I drove home. Bandit walked into the living room, looked around, and sat down on his haunches by the front door. It was as if he wanted to say that if I was leaving again, he was finished with me.

  “Okay, point taken.”

  With a sense of purpose and resolve, I unpacked my bags and started a load of wash. My stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten all day. The refrigerator was shockingly empty unless I was interested in a mustard-and-ketchup sandwich.

  On the bottom of my list of things I wanted to do was go grocery shopping. However, my stomach wasn’t the only one I needed to feed. Not thirty minutes after I arrived home, I was in my car again, Bandit curled up and asleep in the backseat.

  * * *

  —

  The following morning, I went in search of Willa a second time. Bandit didn’t look pleased when I left the house. Can’t say I blamed him. Seemed every time I walked away it was for a good long while. Not something I’d recommend in relationship-building, both with my rescue dog and with my girl.

  I connected with Pastor McDonald at the parsonage and met his wife, the woman who’d answered the door.

  “You’re Willa’s young man,” he said, remembering our brief meeting.

  “Yes. I returned from a business trip in Chicago yesterday. How’s Willa holding up?”

  He didn’t hesitate, his eyes holding mine. “She’s taken the death of her sister hard.”

  “Do you think I should seek her out?” I asked, needing guidance. “Or would it be best to wait?” I called myself a coward, afraid of what Willa might say or do when she saw me. I was afraid she didn’t want me in her life any longer, and I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, accept that.

  “She’s at the church now,” he said.

  That didn’t answer my question. “Then I should go to her? Will that help?”

  “Can’t hurt.” He didn’t seem to have strong feelings one way or the other, which wasn’t encouraging.

  “Thank you,” I said, and left to walk over to the church.

  Stepping into the dim interior of the church, I found Willa sitting in the front pew, staring at the altar. Silently, I slid into the row and sat next to her, leaving a small amount of space between us.

  She glanced up when I sat down, paused, and then looked away.

  We sat in silence for several minutes. I reached for her hand and gave it a soft squeeze before she dragged it away as though she didn’t want or need my touch.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

  Willa shook her head.

  “What about for your family?”

  Again, she declined. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Thanks for asking.”

  Although she didn’t say it, I noticed the tension in her seemed to increase the longer I sat by her side. Her back stiffened and she bowed her head as if willing me to leave.

  The last thing I wanted to do was walk away. And yet I felt like an intruder, unwanted, a nuisance. I reasoned it was guilt weighting me down. Reluctantly, I stood, wanting her to stop me. She didn’t.

  “I’m here if you need me.”

  Willa emitted a soft snicker. “You’re a little late for that.”

  I longed to defend myself. I wasn’t a mind reader. If she’d told me, if I’d known how close to death Harper had been, I would have taken the next flight out of Chicago. Screw the project; Willa needed me. Only she wasn’t answering my calls, had ignored both my texts and voicemails. Knowing how badly she was hurting, I swallowed down the need to defend myself.

  Moving to the end of the pew, I turned back. Willa hadn’t budged; she continued to stare straight ahead, as if I’d already left the church. I found it impossible to leave matters as they were.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” I told her.

  Silence.

  “Can you forgive me?” My heart raced as I waited for her answer.

  Then and only then did she turn to look at me, her eyes red and brimming with tears. “Of course.”

  I should have been relieved, but the indifference in her response had the opposite effect.

  “I’m serious, Willa. Words can’t express how bad I feel about all this. I should have been with you, should have been the one you could lean on for support to see you through those last days with your sister.”

  Her face was full of questions when she looked back at me. “I don’t know why you would think that, Sean. It’s all very sweet of you, but unnecessary.”

  “Why?” I said, much too loud for being in a church. My voice echoed in the empty space like a bell toll. “You’re my girl. Don’t you realize how important you are to me? I love you.”

  It seemed as if my declaration of love went directly over her head. For a long time, all she did was stare at me. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” I insisted.

  She shrugged, as if my declaration was nothing more than empty words. From all the calls, texts, and voicemails I’d left, she had to know she was constantly in my thoughts. I wanted to remind her that the last time I was home, not all that long ago, she’d slept in my bed. I spent the night with her in my arms. She’d needed me. Sought out my comfort.

  This had to be her grief talking. I consoled myself with the hope that within a short amount of time, and with patience, we’d be back on an even keel. As hard as it was to leave matters as they were, it would be best to leave this discussion for another day.

  The doors at the back of the church opened and the man I recognized as Harper’s friend and physician walked down the center aisle toward us.

  Immediately, Willa came to her feet, edged past me, and raced toward him. As I watched, she flew into John’s arms, hugging him and weeping on his shoulder. With her face buried against his front, I couldn’t make out what she said.

  Watching another man hold Willa caused my stomach to tighten. I should be the one comforting her, but Willa didn’t want me. It hurt in a physical way I hadn’t expected.

  CHAPTER 29

  Willa

  The morning of Harper’s funeral, I rose early and headed for the beach, needing to clear my head. I hoped to find strength and some badly needed peace in the one place I knew I’d find solace.

  Sleep had evaded me since my sister’s death. I tossed, twisting the sheets about me until exhaustion would finally lay claim to me. Then within an hour, possibly two if I was lucky, I’d wake sobbing, finding it hard to accept the truth that Harper was truly gone.

  Everything in our apartment reminded me of my sister. Each item that was hers brough
t up memories. Her mountain-climbing equipment. The little stuffed mouse she’d purchased for Snowball. Her shampoo tucked in the corner of the shower. She was everywhere I looked.

  Eventually I’d need to clear out her bedroom—a task I dreaded. If possible, I’d need to find another roommate, but that was a problem for another day. My rent was paid until the end of the month for both the apartment and Bean There. This month and this month only. My bank account was empty, and I had no way of making the payment for either come December. Today, the one in which we would bury my sister, held enough grief without my dragging my problems of the future into it.

  The briny scent coming off the ocean filled the air, and the wind buffeted against me, colder now that it was November. I wrapped my coat more securely around me, hoping to find warmth when everything around me was cold and gray. Gloomy and dark. Miserable.

  The overcast sky held the promise of rain later in the day. The burial was scheduled for that morning. The final goodbye. Yet how could I ever really let go of Harper? It would be impossible to release my beautiful sister, even in death.

  One of the last things I’d said to her was that she would always be a part of me, and it was true. I would carry her love with me into the future, no matter what it held or where it would take me.

  At the appropriate time, Dad, Lucas, Chantelle, John, and I met at the funeral home. The casket was open, and we were given time privately to say our final goodbye before it was closed.

  I stood before my sister and looked upon her one last time. Harper’s head was covered with her lilac-colored wig. Leukemia had ravaged her body, but it hadn’t been able to steal her beauty. She looked nothing like she once had, but it didn’t distract from who she was. I touched her face one last time, swallowed my tears, and turned away, bracing myself for whatever this desperately sad day would hold. Of all of us, John lingered at her casket the longest, his grief as deep as our own. His heart broken. He had gone above and beyond in his effort to save her.