A Walk Along the Beach

by Debbie Macomber

  I could see Sean struggling, wanting to argue. He opened his mouth, but when he saw the determined look in my eyes, he closed it again.

  Knowing this would likely be the last time I’d see him outside of Bean There or around town, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” I said, and moved back one step.

  He continued to stare at me as I headed for the front door. I was on my way out when he stopped me.

  “Willa,” he said with a tenderness I didn’t expect, “don’t make the mistake of turning away from love. We have our differences, but we can work past them if you’ll give me another chance.”

  I hesitated and then sadly shook my head. After burying my sister, I couldn’t face losing someone else I loved. Making an emotional investment in Sean was too much for me.

  As if reading my mind, he added, “Loving someone, anyone, including me, will always involve some risk. I love you. I have almost from the first moment we met. It’s crazy how long it took me to work up the courage to tell you.

  “You shook my world. You still do. One day, and I pray it will be soon, you’ll realize that love is worth the cost. Otherwise, I fear you’ll end up alone and bitter, thinking about all that you missed out on in life.”

  “That’s my choice,” I reminded him.

  “It is,” he said, walking me to the door. “Choose wisely, my love.”

  Stepping out into the wind and rain, a chill came over me. Ignoring it, I walked to where I’d left my car, the harsh weather beating down against me.

  * * *

  —

  I connected with Shirley, who I’d spoken to only briefly since I’d moved back into town. I told her I planned to open again on Thursday morning. It would take that long to complete an inventory and purchase what I’d need to get back up and running. I would serve only what I could order in quickly or bake myself. The coffee beans had to be freshly roasted and of the highest quality. No one brewed a better cup of java than Bean There, and I was determined it would stay that way.

  As soon as Shirley learned I was opening my doors once again, she stopped by the shop. “Thank the good Lord,” she squealed, hugging me hard enough to crack a rib.

  I’d been convinced I’d worked her to the point that she wouldn’t want to return. “You’re willing to come back?”

  “You couldn’t keep me away,” she said, squeezing me again. “If I ever threaten to quit or retire, remind me what it’s like at home.”

  Grinning, I knew she wanted me to ask. “What’s so bad about being at home?”

  “It’s Randy.” She tossed her hand into the air. “He expects me to be his personal maid. Cook his breakfast, fix his lunch. Are his clothes washed? I swear, what do I look like? His servant?”

  I struggled to hide a smile, knowing Randy well. He had recently retired from work with the city.

  “He wants me to bake day and night, and not just for him,” she continued. “He promised his poker buddies that I’d provide homemade goodies every week. You’d think I had nothing better to do than see to his every wish.”

  “I’ll be glad to have you back,” I said, grateful she was inclined to return.

  “I never appreciated the fact that this job saved my marriage.”

  She released me and I was able to breathe normally again.

  “It’s good to be back,” she said, “but it’s even better to have you here with me.”

  She was right. This was exactly where I needed to be.

  “Joelle said she’d be happy to fill in until you could hire a full-time barista,” Shirley continued. “I reached out to her after you called. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” My one hope was that we’d have enough business to keep the two of us busy.

  “Should I let her know we’ll be up and running again come Thursday morning?”

  “Please.”

  Standing in the middle of my kitchen, I felt almost alive again. Walking around the room, I ran my hand over the counter and the front of the ovens, getting the feel of it back in my blood, stirring me awake.

  Deciding to reopen Bean There felt right. It was where I belonged, where I was most comfortable, where I could forget the pain that threatened to rip me apart.

  * * *

  —

  On Thursday morning, my stomach was a ball of nerves. I’d been up and baking for two hours before Joelle arrived. After she tied the apron around her waist, I asked if she’d unlock the front door and turn on the OPEN sign.

  Harper’s friend shook her head. “This morning, that’s something you need to do yourself.”

  Surprised that she’d refuse me, I noticed that she trailed along behind me when I unlocked the door. I didn’t have a chance to turn on the neon OPEN sign before a line of customers quickly filed into the shop. Most I recognized, and others I didn’t.

  A very long line of customers.

  Stunned, I looked outside and saw the queue stretched all the way down the block. The wonderful people of Oceanside were letting me know how much they’d loved Harper and how much they cared about me and my small coffee shop.

  CHAPTER 31

  Sean

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Willa and her family. I felt at a loss as to how best to help, especially since she’d made it clear she’d rather I stayed out of her life. I knew I needed to be gentle and patient with her. In time, she’d come to understand that I wasn’t going away. As far as I was concerned, Willa Lakey was it for me. The yin to my yang, the sun to my moon, the woman I intended to love the rest of my life. All that I needed now was to convince her that we were meant to be together.

  I was one of the first people in line the day she reopened her business. I made it my mission to return every day until she got the message. For the first four days, she didn’t acknowledge me other than to greet me and wish me a good day. It was the same treatment she gave every customer. As soon as she recognized me, she avoided eye contact, filled my order, and sent me on my way, ignoring any effort I made to engage her in conversation. My frustration mounted, although I didn’t allow it to show. I ended every transaction the same way. “See you tomorrow.”

  On the fifth day, I saw her dad sitting at a table, the very one where Harper once sat. He read the newspaper as he sipped his coffee. This was my chance to seek his advice. Braving it, I took my mocha and approached him.

  “Would you mind if I join you?” I asked, pulling out the chair, determined not to take no for an answer.

  He looked around and must have noticed that there were several vacant tables. “Sure.” He set aside the newspaper and leaned back in his chair to study me. “You’re Willa’s young man, aren’t you?”

  “I’d like to think so.” I took a sip of my mocha to hide the pleasure his words gave me.

  “I appreciated your help there at the grave site. Couldn’t have buried Harper alone, as much as I would have been willing to try, my back being what it is and all. You getting those other shovels was a big help.”

  His appreciation embarrassed me. “I wanted to help…It’s hard to know what one can do in situations like that.”

  “You love my girl?” he asked, staring me down.

  I appreciated that he was direct. “With all my heart.” I held his look, hoping he heard the sincerity in my voice.

  His brow folded into a frown, as if he wasn’t sure he should believe me. “I haven’t seen you around much.”

  “Willa doesn’t want to see me…after I failed her. I was away during most of Harper’s illness. Willa is finding it hard to forgive me for that; frankly, I don’t blame her. Had I known…I’ve made a mess of this, Mr. Lakey; I need help.”

  “It’s Stan,” he said.

  “Like I said, I need your advice. Do you have any ideas on how I can win Willa back?” Life without her would be unimaginable. I was determined to make sure t
hat didn’t happen.

  “Like I said, I haven’t seen you around much.”

  “I’ve been here every day,” I argued. “She greets me like I’m a stranger.”

  He took a deep swallow of his drink, as if he needed time to think. “Don’t suppose you know she walks along the beach every afternoon, usually around four. She seems to find solace there.”

  “Thank you.” My heart throbbed with gratitude. I planned to take full advantage of running into her and had the perfect excuse. Bandit needed exercise. She couldn’t fault me if our paths just happened to cross.

  Another thought came to mind of how I might be able to help. Willa would need to clear out Harper’s bedroom. I could only speculate how difficult that would be. “What’s happened to Harper’s things? Is there any way I could help with that?”

  “It’s all been packed up. Willa couldn’t do it; she tried and found it too hard. Lucas and I took care of it.”

  The thought of her dealing with all the memories and mementos caused my gut to clench.

  “What’s she going to do about the apartment?” I suspected a two-bedroom place would be too expensive for her to maintain for long, especially since she was having financial difficulties. She’d had enough change in her life, losing her sister and best friend. Uprooting herself would only add to the upheaval.

  “Willa and I are talking.” His eyes brightened for just a moment.

  “Oh?” I hoped he would elaborate.

  “There’s lots of temptation for me at the casino, if you know what I mean. I let my family down after I lost my wife, turning to the bottle instead of dealing with my grief.”

  Alcoholic drinks flowed freely at the casino. Being around that wouldn’t be easy for him.

  “I’ve been thinking long and hard on what I need to do. Years ago, I worked in the lumber business. Too old for anything that physical these days. A friend of mine mentioned the hardware store was looking for a sales associate. I used to be something of a handyman. Raising a family made it necessary to do a lot of projects around the house myself. I’m hoping they’ll be willing to hire me.”

  I could see the benefit of that for Stan. It would be good for Willa to have him close. She needed him and he needed her.

  “If I’m fortunate enough to get the job in town, then I’ll move in with Willa.”

  That would be even better.

  He stood and pushed in his chair. “Nice talking to you, son. Don’t you give up on Willa. She’ll come around. Just give her some time.”

  I sincerely hoped he was right.

  * * *

  —

  That afternoon, I was at the beach at the time Stan suggested. The instant I opened the car door, Bandit bounded out, tugging at his leash. Scanning the area, I saw Willa. Her back was to me and a football field away. I released Bandit and watched him race toward her, his feet kicking up sand.

  When she saw him, she got down on one knee, wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his fur. She was still on her knees when I approached, the wind billowing around us.

  “Hey,” I said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for us to meet.

  She looked up, her eyes puffy and swollen, tears wet on her cheeks. It demanded all I had not to take her in my arms and comfort her.

  She broke into sobs and buried her face in her hands. Her pain was so strong, her shoulders shook with the weight of her grief.

  “Willa…”

  “Go,” she sobbed.

  “I can’t.”

  “Go away,” she said again, this time with more conviction.

  Kneeling on the other side of Bandit, I reached out to her, placing my hand over hers, and experienced the same shot of warmth and rightness I felt each time we touched. She jerked her arm away.

  “Please,” she begged. “Leave me alone.”

  Her words cut me to the quick. I stood, loving her enough to give her what she needed, even though I wanted nothing more than to be the one to comfort her. “Bandit,” I ordered, “come.”

  Although it was hard, I left Willa. Bandit raced back and forth between us as if seeking a way to bring us together. By the end of thirty minutes, he was exhausted and lay down on the sand, panting.

  Just as I left the beach, it started to rain. Willa remained, walking in the drizzle as if unaware the heavens were weeping with her.

  * * *

  —

  The following day, I returned at the same time. As soon as I undid his leash, Bandit took off, running to Willa. She greeted him again but didn’t look to see where I was. After a few minutes of giving Bandit love and attention, she continued walking. I didn’t approach her, although she had to know I was on the beach.

  On the third and fourth day she didn’t show. I got the message. If I was going to invade this private time she took to grieve, then she planned to not come. My frustration mounted. This wasn’t working. If nothing else, I needed to let her know I’d stay away. She wanted that time alone, and I would give her that.

  Although I was tempted to stop by the house and tell her, I waited until the following morning when I went for my mocha. Willa was at the counter. She stiffened when she saw me.

  “What can I get you today?” she asked, addressing me as if we were strangers.

  “The usual,” I said in even tones.

  She quickly brewed my mocha and set it on the counter.

  I handed her the money, but when she went to take the bill, I held on to the cash. “I won’t be going to the beach any longer.”

  She looked up and I met her gaze. It was the first time since our last conversation at my house that she’d bothered to make eye contact with me.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Seeing my chance, I spoke. “I’d do anything I could to help you, but you need to know something, Willa. I’m here for the long haul. I’m not going away. I love you, and that’s not going to change.”

  Her eyes glistened and she swallowed tightly before she said, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  “Not happening, love.” I started to turn away before I remembered the question I wanted to ask. “Say, did your dad get that job at the hardware store?”

  “Yes…How did you know about that?”

  “He mentioned it the other day.”

  “Oh.” She seemed pleased for him. “He’s excited about it.”

  This was the longest conversation we’d had in weeks. By this time, I was starved for encouragement, some sign that would give me hope. Brief as our conversation was, it buoyed my spirits.

  As I left the shop, I saw Stan Lakey climbing out of his car. With my drink in my hand I approached him. “Hey, I hear congratulations are in order. You got the job.”

  His grin was huge. “I’m grateful.” He rubbed his hand down his pants leg. “Have to say I’m not looking forward to the move, though.”

  “You need help with that?”

  He frowned as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Are you volunteering?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it.” At his age, packing and hauling boxes wouldn’t be easy.

  “Willa said she’d stop by after she closed, but I was hoping to get an early start.”

  “Then I’m your man.”

  He hesitated, as if he still wasn’t sure I was sincere. “You don’t need to do this, son.”

  “Don’t need to,” I agreed. “Want to.”

  “For Willa?”

  No need hiding my motive. “For Willa and for you. As you said, she hasn’t seen much of me lately. This will show her what I’ve been trying to say with action rather than words.”

  “Then who am I to stop you,” he said with a chuckle.

  He gave me the address of the trailer park where he was currently renting and suggested we meet in the next hour. K
nowing he’d need boxes, I stopped off and collected a few from various locations.

  Stan arrived before I did and opened the door when I knocked. “I didn’t tell Willa you were going to be here; she’ll find out soon enough when she stops by later.”

  “Good.” That was what I wanted. If she knew, she might stay away, and that would defeat my purpose.

  “She’s a stubborn one; you need to be patient.”

  “She’s worth whatever time it takes.”

  Stan nodded. “Glad to know you appreciate her.”

  He led the way into his small trailer kitchen. “Don’t suppose I’ll have much need of anything here. Never did much cooking. You’ll need to ask Willa what she suggests I do with this stuff.”

  He winked, knowing I’d welcome any opportunity for conversation with his daughter. “Got it.”

  The two of us worked together for a couple of hours when I found a half-bottle of bourbon hidden under the sink. “What would you like me to do with this?” I asked, holding it up.

  Glancing up, Stan’s gaze focused on the bottle. “Where’d you find that?”

  I told him.

  “Thought I’d done away with all the booze hidden around here. Best thing is to dump it down the sink; I don’t have any need for it.”

  I did as he asked and had just finished when the trailer door opened, and Willa came in. “Dad, is that Sean’s car…” She paused when she saw me. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the empty bourbon bottle in my hand.

  “Your father asked me to dump this,” I said, before she jumped to conclusions.

  She stood frozen, looking from her father to me and then back again. “What’s he doing here?” she asked, addressing Stan.

  “What does it look like? He’s helping me pack up. Doing a good job of it, too, I might add.”

  “Dad…this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Can’t say I agree, baby girl.”

  The last thing I wanted was to cause dissension between Willa and her father. I decided a distraction might help. “Willa, what would you suggest we do with the pots and pans?” I asked. “Your dad seems to think he won’t need them living with you.”