Sandover Beach Memories

by Emma St Clair

  “That’s a little harsh. Mollusk cannibalism, huh?”

  She did not smile. “You know nature—red in tooth and claw. People aren’t so different. Maybe not always as literal. But in other ways.”

  Ah, so we’re not talking about shells anymore.

  Jenna crouched down again and Jackson tried to steady his breathing. He had known that Jenna was angry with him, or still thought of him in a negative light. But until hearing the pain in her voice, he hadn’t understood how he had hurt her. She stood, another shell in her hand, this one spiky and white. Jackson swallowed as her shoulder brushed his.

  “This one is my favorite.” Her voice was quiet, and Jackson wished that he could see her eyes, but she had her chin down.

  “What’s it called?”

  “It’s called a Lettered Olive. Another predatory mollusk. They spend a lot of time burrowed down in the sand, hunting food, so the shell isn’t as rough or worn as some of the others.” Jenna dropped the shiny gray shell in a bag.

  “Is this something you do often? I mean, when you’re here On Island.”

  She knelt in the sand, turning over shells and tiny pieces of driftwood. He almost repeated the question, thinking she hadn’t heard him. But then she spoke, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

  “It was something I did with my mom. Almost every weekend growing up. She taught me all the names and told me about each one.”

  Jackson felt a shudder of grief. He could hear the way loss coated her words. Jenna’s mother had reminded him so much of Jenna. Well, how she had been back when they were in high school: full of easy laughter, smart, kind, and vivacious with a sharp wit. Jenna’s mother had the same kind of unabashed laugh that Jenna did—or that he remembered. Jackson had yet to hear Jenna laugh. Jenna even had her mother’s dark blue eyes. He had always loved those eyes, the color of the sea on a stormy dusk.

  Jenna now seemed so much heavier, with sharper edges. He got the sense that it was protection or self-preservation, not meanness. He knew her marriage ended somewhat recently. Then had lost her mother and had to come back home—it would be a lot for anyone. It made him want to push harder to get past the walls she put up. She was hurting and Jackson wanted nothing more than to soothe the ache. Even if she never wanted more from him than friendship, he could at least offer that.

  He wanted to crouch down beside her and put a comforting hand on her back. But he could see the tension in her from where he stood. She had opened up slightly, but if Jackson pushed, she would run. He could sense it. She still may not know that he had spent time with her mother the past few years. It felt wrong to tell her now. Like he would be discounting her grief somehow by acting like he had any right to share in it. The words he wanted to say died before they reached his lips.

  He cleared his throat. “How do you decide which to keep and which to throw back?”

  Jenna stood and met his eyes. He couldn’t read her expression as she studied his face. “Can I ask you something? Why do you care? I mean, what are you doing here, standing with me on the beach, asking about seashells? Shouldn’t you be bagging groceries? Or ruining someone’s reputation?”

  Even though her words stung, she gave him an easy opening. Jackson ran a hand along his chin, realizing he probably needed to shave again. Focus.

  “I had this all planned out. For a long time, actually. It’s much harder than I ever thought it would be to apologize to you. Which is odd, since I apologized to Rachel. That felt much easier somehow.”

  “Wait—you apologized to Rachel? And she forgave you? Is this your roundabout way of apologizing to me now? Because it wasn’t much of an apology.”

  Jackson knew this would be hard, but Jenna seemed determined to make it as difficult as possible. “I did. She did. And I haven’t gotten to the apology yet. I’m working up to it. Clearly, this isn’t something I’m particularly good at.”

  “Surprising, considering you’ve had a lot to apologize for over the years. At least when I knew you. Probably more later.” Jenna’s eyes blazed.

  She knew just where to aim her verbal attacks. Jackson knew that he deserved it. Though it was surprising. Jenna hadn’t ever been cruel. He’d never heard her say an unkind word. Except to him, this week. He knew that he had messed up with Rachel, but had underestimated how much Jenna still took issue over it. Unless he had done something else that he didn’t remember? Entirely possible, he thought with shame. He spent most weekends in high school drinking. A lot of his memories were fuzzy.

  Though it was a risk, Jackson touched Jenna’s shoulder. She stiffened, but did not pull away. “Look, Jenna—an apology can’t make it right. I can’t fix what happened with Rachel or any of the other stupid things I did back in high school. For what it’s worth, I am sorry. Truly. I didn’t mean to hurt her or hurt you. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t make the same choices. About that or a lot of other things. I’m sorry.”

  Jackson had thought through this scenario in his head many times as he went over the apology again and again. His real-life version hadn’t turned out terrible, though it wasn’t particularly great. It was honest, and he hoped that she could see that in his face and hear it in his voice.

  He licked his lips. “I hoped that maybe we could start again.”

  Jenna pulled away. “Start what again? We were hardly friends back then. You did something awful to my sister, now you’ve apologized. Good. I hope you feel better.”

  Turning away, Jenna stormed down the beach. He watched her go, standing there among the empty shells, thinking that maybe the mollusks’ way of eating each other was more civilized than the ways people hurt each other. Only when she disappeared over the crosswalk did Jackson realize that Jenna had left her shoes behind. He carried them to his house and left them just inside the back door next to his own. Looking at them together, he could almost imagine that Jenna didn’t hate his guts and that she belonged right here, beside him.

  Chapter Five

  Jenna sat in the Harris Teeter parking lot for ten minutes, unable to make herself get out of the car. She had sworn that she wouldn’t go back to Bohn’s to avoid Jackson. And doubled down on that commitment after seeing him at the beach a few days ago. But Harris Teeter was too new, too Off Island, too touristy. A chain. She had shopped at one weekly in Raleigh, but it felt wrong on Sandover. Even after years away from home, she couldn’t shake the sense of island loyalty.

  She needed food and boxes. The last few days she had spent packing the dining and family rooms, making Goodwill runs whenever she had enough to load her trunk or back seat. She filled boxes with fake plants, ceramic animals, books, vases. A few nicer things went to Classy & Trashy, a consignment store a few miles down the beach. She couldn’t bear to dump her mother’s good China at a thrift store, though neither she nor Rachel wanted to keep it. Anything Jenna had an emotional attachment to or thought Rachel might want, she put in a separate box in her bedroom.

  Rachel was driving in tomorrow, which meant that she needed to pull it together. Jenna hadn’t taken a shower or left the house in three days. Her only meals had gone straight from the freezer to the microwave to her mouth. She went to bed late and slept in until almost noon most days. The sting of the hot shower this morning had pulled her out of the slump she hadn’t realized that she had been in. Jenna felt hungry, really hungry, for the first time in days. The fridge was empty and the trash full.

  When she finally drove away from Harris Teeter, Jenna told herself that it was because she wanted to support On Island business. But it wasn’t only that feeling that had her pulling up in front of Bohn’s. If she was being really honest with herself, she wanted to see Jackson.

  Well, she did and didn’t want to see him. She sat in the Bohn’s parking lot almost as long as she had in Harris Teeter’s. Jenna had spent a lot of time over the past few days going over the conversation with Jackson at the beach. He had been surprisingly sweet. A word she never would have thought she’d use to describe him. He listened to her
talk for too long about shells. He genuinely seemed interested—or faked it well. She also couldn’t complain about the way his sculpted body glistened with sweat, though she had done her best not to ogle him. What kind of workouts did the man do to get in such shape? He could have graced the cover of magazines or calendars.

  And then he had apologized, honestly and humbly. This set her off somehow, snapping her walls back into place. Just like that, her anger with him bubbled right back up to the surface. After he apologized for something he had done to her sister, yet Jenna insulted him—again—and left him standing alone on the beach. Not her finest moment. She had even left her shoes, but was too prideful to go back. She could buy another pair.

  She owed Jackson an apology. But she couldn’t find the words to compose one when she still didn’t understand why she had carried around the emotional weight of this for so long. He said that Rachel had forgiven him—why couldn’t she? She felt foolish and immature and as she finally forced herself out of the car and into Bohn’s, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to see Jackson or avoid him more. No, despite everything, the way her eyes darted around the store and the butterflies took flight within her stomach revealed what she really wanted more.

  When Jenna hadn’t seen him after passing through most of the store, disappointment washed over her. She had filled the cart with food for the weekend and wandered through aisles she didn’t need to go down, just to spend more time in the store. Now she just needed to ask for boxes. Jenna found a woman who looked like she was in her early twenties, standing with a nametag that read Mercer, taking notes on a clipboard in the produce section.

  “Excuse me. I’m packing up for a move. Do you happen to have any boxes I could have?”

  Mercer tucked a strand of her wavy brown hair behind her ear. It was a pretty color, bringing out the blue in her eyes. She was strikingly pretty. Jenna felt a wave of irrational jealousy roll over her. Did Jackson think she was pretty? Ugh. That was the last thing Jenna needed to think about.

  “Is it okay if the boxes are already broken down? We have some, I think, but they’re flattened already.”

  “I don’t mind putting them back together. Honestly, I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  Mercer had a soft voice and an even softer smile. “I’ll go grab some. Can I meet you by the registers in five minutes?”

  “Sounds great.” Jenna wandered back up the candy aisle as Mercer disappeared to the back. Rachel still loved Twizzlers, so she dropped a big pack in the cart along with a package of Red Vines for herself. The Twizzler/Red Vine debate had been raging in their household since childhood. Her father had loved Twizzlers and her mom had preferred Red Vines.

  Jenna stopped and rocked back on her heels, resting her forehead on her hands, still clutching the cart. It had been so long since she really thought about her father, who had died when she was in college. With her eyes closed, she could see his warm brown eyes and his beard, flecked with gray. But she couldn’t remember the sound of his voice. He was fading from her memory.

  Would it be the same with her mom? The idea of her mother slipping away from her had Jenna almost panting, feeling her stomach cramp as her fingers cramped around the handle of the cart.

  “Back so soon?”

  It was the worst possible time to hear Jackson’s voice. She couldn’t hide, and probably couldn’t even mask the emotions overwhelming her. She took a few deep breaths before straightening and locking eyes with him. He wore a look of concern so sincere that Jenna’s chest tightened, threatening to pull all her emotions back to the surface. She looked down at her hands, hoping he couldn’t see the way her lip trembled.

  She shouldn’t care what he thought. But letting Jackson see her in this state felt way too vulnerable. When her breath steadied, she looked back up, half-expecting him to be gone. But he stood at the end of her cart, hands in his pockets, waiting, still looking concerned.

  “Are you okay, Jenna?”

  Today he didn’t have on a Bohn’s apron, but wore a dark suit with a light blue button-down shirt. The sight made her stomach flip almost as much as the sight of him shirtless and sweaty on the beach. She hated to admit her growing attraction to this man, but it was welcome compared to the grief that almost brought her to her knees right there in the candy aisle.

  “Sure. You know how it is: shopping.” Jenna gestured to her full cart, trying to keep her voice light. “I ran out of food and am trying to load up. Rachel’s coming tomorrow.”

  His eyebrows lifted. Jenna wanted to kick herself for the reminder of her sister, which brought to mind his apology and her freak-out on the beach. She definitely didn’t want to talk about that right now. The fact that he seemed concerned about her, not angry with her for being an immature brat only made Jenna feel worse about everything. She wished that he would walk away so she didn’t run the risk of completely falling apart in front of him.

  Then again, a part of her wished he would close the distance between them and hold her. The thought made her brain short-circuit. It was much easier when her feelings for him weren’t confused but were clearly in the negative column. She needed to shut this down, fast. She took a breath and went to her default: sharp, barbed words.

  “You’re looking a little dressed-up for a bag boy.”

  His mouth twitched, and he looked past her. It hurt Jenna to say the words. She had felt sick every time after she had been harsh with him. But insulting him felt like her only armor to steel herself against him. Especially now that he had shown her nothing but kindness since she had come back.

  “There you are. I’ve got your boxes.” Jenna turned to see Mercer pushing a cart full of flattened boxes.

  “Oh, great! Thanks! I was just about to check out. See you around, Jackson.”

  Jenna did a quick U-turn with her cart, heading away from Jackson as fast as she could. Mercer shot a look between them but followed Jenna to the registers. Jackson did not. Per the usual with her messed-up emotional state, Jenna felt relieved and also disappointed.

  “In a hurry?” Mercer asked.

  “Yep.” Jenna didn’t want to make small talk and Mercer seemed okay with silence, hovering near the end of the aisle with her cart of boxes while Jenna checked out.

  She was just taking her receipt when Jackson appeared at the end of the aisle. “I can take care of this, Mercer. Jenna and I are old friends.”

  Mercer nodded and walked away. Jackson put a paper grocery sack on top of the boxes in the cart Mercer left behind and waited for Jenna to join him with her cart.

  “That’s really not necessary,” Jenna said.

  “Let me help you out to the car. We pride ourselves at customer service here at Bohn’s.”

  Jackson gave her a wide smile that only made Jenna feel worse. Why did he continue to be kind when she was doing her best to push him away? Jenna didn’t speak again as she led the way to her car. Jackson put the boxes flat in the trunk and helped her arrange the plastic bags of groceries in the back seat. He seemed comfortable working in silence, though Jenna felt anything but comfortable. Guilty, yes. Nervous, yes. Strangely happy? Also yes.

  “This is for you.” Jackson handed her a paper grocery sack. Seeing her face, he laughed. “It’s not poison. You left your shoes the other day at the beach. I brought them up here in case you stopped by.”

  “Oh. Thank you. It’s heavy. What else is in the bag?”

  “I added a few extra things. Think of it as a care package.”

  Jenna flushed, and she stood next to her car, awkwardly holding the bag. She immediately wanted to dig into it and see what kinds of things Jackson Wells would put in a care package for her. It probably had safe choices like ice cream or chips—snack foods anyone would like. Jackson put his hands in his pockets, looking pleased with himself. She set the bag in the passenger seat. Jenna tried not to let his crooked smile affect her in any way. Must resist that roguish charm.

  “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. It’s a gift.”
/>
  “Thank you.” Her voice came out softer than she had meant it to. His kindness overwhelmed her. “Well, I guess I better go.”

  “Great to see you again, Jenna.” She was about to shut the door when he grasped the edge of it, holding it open. “I know that we haven’t been friends. But if you need anything, I’m here. Literally, here at Bohn’s, as you’ve discovered. But here for you.”

  Jenna’s mouth went dry. Jackson’s honey-brown eyes held her captive, stealing the thoughts right from her head. The fading evening light made his cheekbones look more defined, his jaw stronger. He looked like the kind of person she could confide in, the kind of man who could take care of her. For the first time, she realized that she was seeing him as he was now, not colored with the bad memories she had of him.

  She wanted to be strong. Strong enough that she could handle the events of the last year without completely falling apart. Strong enough that she could rein in the flurry of emotions set free in her when Jackson stood close. After everything she had been through with Mark, she couldn’t afford to trust another man. The only two guys she had ever loved had cheated on her, leaving her heartbroken. And Jackson Wells was a bigger player than either of them. Or had been.

  Who was he now? Could she trust in the image he was selling now, or was it just that—an image that he was selling? She couldn’t afford to find out. There wasn’t enough of her heart left to risk.

  “I … I need to go.” Clenching her jaw, Jenna pulled the door hard enough that Jackson was forced to let go. Jenna pulled away, but couldn’t help looking in the rearview mirror. He stood where she’d left him, hands in pockets, watching her drive away. The sight made her want to turn the car around and take him up on his offer. She didn’t know what she needed or what exactly he was offering, but she wanted to say yes. Badly.

  She really should have gone to Harris Teeter.