by Aaron Lazar
“I’m not sure I…”
Libby took my arm. “Finn will be in touch, Mr. Sawyer. This whole week has been a shock. He needs time.”
Ed Sawyer squinted at me, then put on his shades. “Okay, fine. Let’s set a time to get together to sign the papers. Call me.”
I answered automatically. “Sure.”
Like the white rabbit in a pinstripe suit, he checked his watch and rocketed toward the courthouse as if he were late for a date. Or court.
“Finn?”
I shook myself. “Huh? Oh, right. Let’s order. It’s getting late.”
She shot me a quizzical glance, then shrugged. “Lobster roll. Fries. Vanilla shake.”
I ordered the same, but with onion rings. I paid for it, stood in silence until the greasy bags were handed over, and faced her. “Did Sawyer just tell me I’m gonna be rich?”
She gave me a crooked smile. “He sure did.”
I frowned, still not accepting it. “I thought so.”
“Are you going to reject all those riches, so you can keep working for me? I need you around the stables and gardens, bud.”
I laughed. “I might. I did it ten years ago. No reason to change my behavior now.”
She snorted. “You’re nuts. You should take the money. Maybe you could do some good with it.”
I considered her words, still feeling negative about the whole thing. Lose a family and wife, gain a fortune. It felt so wrong. “Maybe.”
She grabbed her paper bag and tossed a wave over her shoulder. “Remind me to get you a membership at the club. They might actually accept you now that you’re not a bum.”
I laughed and took a bite of an onion ring, tossing the hot piece around in my mouth. “See you at home,” I mumbled. “Society girl.”
Chapter 10
July 9th, 1997
6:30 P.M.
I avoided Jax and sneaked out of the house after dinner on my ten-speed. I expected to get my license in the fall, and couldn’t wait to get my first car. I’d been saving up for years, and already had over five hundred in the bank. For months, I’d had my eye on a red Camaro that had been sitting on a lawn down the street. The price tag was $850.00. I didn’t know if it even ran, but it sure was a beaut. I planned to save every penny from my meager salary this summer. If it didn’t sell by October, the Camaro would be mine.
In the cooling summer evening, I pedaled steadily along the sandy trail to Paines Creek Beach, curving around bends ruffled with wild roses and orange daylilies.
Would Sassy make it? Would her parents let her go out alone?
I skidded to a stop by the bicycle stand, slid my old bike into the rack, and clipped the cable lock around it. Craning my head, I tried to see over the dunes blocking the panoramic view of the shore. Her bike wasn’t here, but that didn’t mean she didn’t get a ride, or maybe she walked. I wasn’t sure where she lived.
Sweet peas and purple beach plums lined the sandy path to the shore, and the screeching of gulls provided comforting background noises to the swirling, salty wind whistling through the sharp grasses blanketing the dunes.
A man jogged with his black lab in the distance. Two old men had set up chairs and fishing rod stands on the north end of the beach where the water was deeper, and where the fishing was reported to be excellent. They slumped beside each other, baseball caps drawn low and heads hanging. I wondered if they’d fallen asleep. Other than the jogger and the fishermen, the beach was empty.
No Sassy.
I felt my expectations deflate, just a little. I checked my watch. Five ‘til seven. It was still early.
I tried to find a good vantage point to keep watch, and decided on the breakwater rocks that reached from the parking lot to the sea, following the shining green and silver flow of Paine’s Creek, just before it merged with the ocean. I climbed to the top of the jumble and sat on the warm granite, still oozing heat from the day. Unlacing my sneakers, I tossed them down to the sand. It wasn’t cool to walk the beach in running shoes.
A car pulled up.
My heartbeat quickened and I peered into the car, unable to see due to the setting sun’s rays reflection on the windshield. Holding my breath, I waited for someone to emerge.
A woman got out, maybe in her forties. Looking frazzled, she shaded her eyes and gazed at the fishermen. Jingling keys in her hand, she passed me, mumbling. “Geez, I think they fell asleep again.” Apologetically, she glanced up. “My dad and his brother. They say they want to fish, but all they ever bring home is a sunburn and sand-filled shoes.”
I chuckled. “It’s easy to fall asleep by the shore. Kind of lulls you, doesn’t it?”
She nodded and trotted toward them. “Right you are. But their supper’s getting cold, so I’m off to roust them from their dreams of mermaids.” She cast me a wave and headed toward them.
I waved back, deeply disappointed that the car hadn’t been Sassy’s.
Ten minutes later, the old men shuffled back to the station wagon and were ushered home by the dutiful daughter/niece. I sat on my boulder, starting to wonder if I’d been foolish to think Sassy would really be allowed out alone. I tried to picture the scene.
“Hey, Dad. Can I go to the beach with that guy I met today?”
“Alone? At night?”
“Yeah.”
“Over my dead body.”
By seven-thirty, I’d almost given up. I slid off the jetty and had bent to pick up my sneakers when I heard someone calling me from the bike rack.
“Finn!”
She trotted along the path, her cheeks flushed bright pink. Puffing hard, she leaned on me to catch her breath. “Oh, Finn. I’m so sorry. I had to sneak out my window. I almost didn’t make it. My father was going on and on about responsibility and respect and oh, God, you know what I mean? I thought dinner would never end!”
I laughed, pulling her toward me. “I know exactly what you mean. My brother and I just had the lecture about safe sex from my father. In front of my mother, no less.”
She giggled with a hand over her mouth. “Oh my gosh. Really?”
I locked eyes with her, so in love with the image of her, the way her hair swung against her back, her long, lithe, tawny body, her smile that filled my heart with joy. “Really. Do your parents lecture you about that? It’s so embarrassing.”
“I only have Dad,” she said, looking down.
“Oh. I thought that lady you were with today was your mother. I’m sorry.”
“Nope. That’s Aunt Shirley. She’s got a real pole up her butt, if you’ll excuse my language. Thinks she’s my mother. And she’s not!” Her face turned angry, and I was surprised at the level of emotion that shot from her dark eyes. “She won’t let me do anything. I hate her.”
“Your father’s sister?”
“No. My mother’s sister.”
“Oh. What happened to your mom? If it’s okay to ask.”
She grimaced. “She left us. Dad doesn’t tell me much. Except she’s gone. Left when I was three.”
“Holy crap. I’m really sorry.” I tilted her chin up. “Nobody deserves to be treated like that.” I leaned down with a sudden impulse and touched my lips to hers. Gently. Quickly. Barely a kiss.
Her eyes widened, and she smiled again. “Thanks, Finn.”
I linked arms with her. “Take your shoes off. Let’s walk on the beach.”
“Okay.”
She slid out of her flip-flops and we hid both pairs of shoes in a hole in the jetty. Nobody would see them there.
“So,” I said. “Where do you live? Is it close?”
She hesitated. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you might judge me.”
I stopped walking and turned her to face me. “Are you kidding?”
With a shake of her head, she grimaced. “No. You don’t understand.”
“But Sassy, I don’t know your real first name, or even your last name, and I don’t know where you live. I don’t
have your phone number. All I know is you have a father and aunt.”
“She lives with us, by the way.”
“Crap. That must be hell.”
She chuckled and kicked the sand. “Darn right it is.”
“But I need to know more about you.”
“I’ll tell you, eventually.”
I frowned. “Why don’t you trust me? Do you live in a poor area? You know I wouldn’t care one damned whit about that. I’d like you no matter where you came from. I don’t care if you live in a rundown trailer on the wrong side of the tracks. Honest.”
“I love what you’re saying, Finn.” She pulled my arm and we walked in the surf. “But can you humor me for a little while?”
The tide was out, and periwinkles scuttled in the shallow water, surrounded by flitting silver minnows. Ripples stretched across the wet sand, making designs almost too perfect to be real.
I sighed. “What do I tell my folks? My stupid brother already said I had a girlfriend. And my father asked about your family.”
“See? People do care about lineage. And it’s so dumb.” She stopped again, looking at me with an impish smile. “Wait. Did you say girlfriend?”
I blushed. “Um. Well. Yeah. I’d kinda hoped you’d go out with me. Only me. Not my brother. And he’s interested, believe me.”
We reached the end of the low tide sand, and walked now in six inches of water. With a tinkling laugh that made me feel giddy inside, she ran ahead of me, splashing in the water.
“I might have to choose, you mean? Between your older, handsome, dashing brother, and you?”
I ran after her. “Yeah. And he’s not so dashing, once you get to know him. He’s a royal pain in the ass.”
“Is he, now?” With a saucy smile, she bent low and cupped seawater in her hand. “Who do you think I should choose, big guy?” She splashed water toward me. It splatted against me, making a dark circle on my tee shirt.
I caught her wrist and pulled her close to me. “Hey, if I’m wet, you’re gonna be wet.” I flattened myself against her. “Feel that?”
She stopped, suddenly serious, her big eyes searching mine. “Yeah.”
I pressed her closer, realizing the double entendre of my words. My body had gone into launch sequence, and I didn’t know what to do to hide it, except keep her as close as possible. “Sassy?”
She tilted her lips to mine. “Uh huh?”
“I think I love you.” I leaned down and kissed her, this time tenderly and for a long, long time. The stirring in my jeans became almost painful, and she glanced downward when it moved against her.
Her arms wrapped around my neck, and her lips parted slightly. I felt her tongue tentatively touch the tip of mine.
“Finn,” she rasped. “I think I know who I’ll pick.”
I kissed her again, deeper this time. We finally came up for air. “Okay. Who?”
One hand reached down to gently touch the fabric of my jeans where I bulged against it with surging readiness. “Oh, my. Did I do that to you?”
I nodded, feeling helpless and wanton and completely besotted. “Uh huh. You’re killing me. But you didn’t tell me who you picked.”
She kissed me again, then pushed back a few inches, looking up at me. “What’s your brother’s name again?”
“Jax,” I said stiffly. “Short for Jaxson.”
She caressed my face, running one finger around my lips. “Just curious.”
“Come on, Sassy. Will you be my girl?”
She loosed a wide smile this time, her eyes searching mine. “Yes, Finn. I will be your girl.”
I picked her up and swung her in a wide circle around me. “Oh, Sassy. This’s gonna be one hell of a summer.”
She loosed a flirty little laugh and grabbed my hand. “It is. Come on, the tide’s coming in, and I’ve gotta get home before they discover I’m missing. Let’s run back.”
Silent except for the slapping of our feet on wet sand, we ran together, the lightness of youth making our legs fly, our muscles easily pushing on and on until we finally made it to the end of the beach and stopped, breathing hard, our eyes bright with the flush of endorphins.
We put our shoes on and mounted our bikes. “Can I ride you home?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Only to the corner. After that, I’m on my own.”
I shrugged. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it.”
“It is,” she said. “I can’t risk my father seeing us together. He’s already worried.”
“Okay. It’ll be our little secret. Until he has to give you away at the wedding,” I said. “We’ll have to tell him then.”
Her dark eye danced. “Okay. We’ll tell him then.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“I’ll try,” she shouted over her shoulder. “Same time, same place?”
“Yes,” I yelled, watching her pedal away.
She rose high above the seat, her pretty legs pumping up and down slowly, strenuously, as she got her speed up. I couldn’t help but notice her cute behind. Heart shaped, it followed the rhythm of her legs and its up-and-down motion made me weak. I almost lost it, but finally calmed my body down, and turned my bike in the direction of home.
Chapter 11
July 13th, 2013
The blinding sun winked off the windows of The Seacrest and burned my bare back. Sweating, I leaned on my shovel and dug deep into the sandy soil. I’d wanted to move some of the cultivated raspberries to a section over by the west end of the property for a while now, and Rudy had given me permission a few days ago.
I wiped my forehead with an old blue bandana hanging from my pocket.
Libby rode up behind me on Serendipity, her favorite mare in the stable.
“What the hell are you doing?” she said with a scowl. “It’s ninety degrees out here.”
I turned to see her astride Dippy bareback, with just a snaffle bit in the goofy horse’s mouth. I wondered about the wisdom of this. She usually needed a curb and a saddle wasn’t a bad idea on the shying-queen of all the horses in the barn. If a tissue flitted by on the grass, she’d jump sideways, often dislodging her rider. Like she’d done that day I’d been weed wacking out in the paddock.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I said, eyeing her setup. “Where’s your saddle and curb bit?”
She shrugged. “It’s so hot, I figured she’d be too tired to act up.”
The horse stood still, and her head actually drooped a little. “You might be right,” I chuckled. “Look at her.”
“I’m just going for a ride along the beach. Wanna come? Popeye needs exercise. He’s getting fat.”
She surprised me with this one. I did exercise the horses off and on when I’d caught up with my usual chores, but never with Libby. She’d never asked before.
“Um…” I surveyed the ground around me. The sun beat mercilessly on my brow. With a sudden impulse, I stabbed the shovel into the dirt and turned back to her. “Okay. I’ll help you out this time.”
“Really?” She raised one eyebrow. “Don’t do me any favors, Finn.”
“Sorry.” I flashed an apologetic smile. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Back in a sec.”
I left my tools outside, figuring I’d finish up the job in the evening when it wasn’t so danged hot.
The barn was cool inside, and Popeye—half Percheron/half Pinto—gazed at me from his stall. He was getting a little chunky. “Come on boy,” I said, opening the stall door and clipping a lead to his halter. “We’re going to the beach.”
He seemed excited, shaking his massive head and pushing eagerly into the bit. I decided to ride bareback, too. If we got wet in the surf, it could ruin the saddles. I’d saddle soap the bridles when we got back. After brushing him and smoothing his shiny brown and white pinto-patterned coat with a soft rag, I led him out into the heat. I drank from the hose before jumping on his back to join Libby, who rested with Dippy under the shade of a tall oak.
“Ready?” she asked, clicking to her
mare.
“All set,” I said, urging Popeye to her side.
The Vanderhorns’ property was extensive. The cedar-shingled mansion overlooked the sea, and for three whole miles, their private beach stretched invitingly over the top of the dunes in the distance. We followed the trail down to the beach, heading for the water.
A fresh breeze ruffled the horses’ manes and tails. I glanced sideways at Libby, whose dark pigtails flopped up and down on her shoulders when we trotted. She sat tall on Dippy’s back, almost regal looking. She seemed so connected with her horse; they were practically one entity. When the mare trotted, Libby glided atop her, barely bouncing, absorbing the movement with her hips, legs, and back.
“It’s nice out here,” I said. “Better than digging holes in the sun.”
She shot me a wry smile. “Told you.”
We rode along the shore for another mile, and had almost reached the end of her property when I stopped and stared. There it was. My parents’ house on the hill, just visible from our vantage point. Its white paint glistened in the sun.
I felt the blood drain from my face. I hadn’t been back to the farm since the fire, ten years ago. When I went to town, I purposefully avoided any roads that would take me near it. I hadn’t even seen the house since then, and was surprised to see it completely rebuilt to match the old one. I had heard an entire wing burned to the ground. We’d all been rushed to the hospital when the fire was still spreading.
Now it stood just like my childhood memories had captured it.
“You have to go back, you know.” She looked at me with stern eyes.
I met her gaze. “No, I don’t.”
“It’s yours now.”
“Not yet. I haven’t signed the papers.”
“When will you?”
“I’m supposed to meet with Sawyer tomorrow, at nine.”
“Are you going?” She toyed with one pigtail.
“I'm not sure.” I looked up again, feeling such conflicting emotions about the place that I didn’t know which way was up. Pain. Trauma. Nostalgia. Joy. It had, after all, been the place I spent my happy childhood, before I lost them all.
