Sandover Beach Memories

by Emma St Clair

  She felt her skin flush. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

  From her position lying on the couch, she couldn’t see anything but Jimmy’s face and the ceiling. Was Jackson nearby? How did he feel about everything that just happened? Her gut clenched with worry. What if stepping outside the elevator flipped a switch, like what happened only existed in there? She blinked quickly, hoping to keep in the sudden tears that threatened.

  Jimmy shifted over and Jackson’s smiling face moved over her. The couch shifted as he sat next to her and took her hand, kissing her fingertips. Instantly her body released the worry that had tightened around her heart.

  “I’ve got Megan until tomorrow, but would love to take you out in the evening. An official out-of-the-elevator first date. If you’ll have me.”

  A date? A date!

  “Yes.” Jenna’s smile was so wide that it hurt and when it released the tears she had been trying to stuff down, Jackson didn’t look bothered at all, but simply brushed them away with his thumbs, smiling right back at her.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You know that I’m the first person who wants your undying happiness, Jenns. But if you keep smiling like that through this whole dinner, I might lose my appetite.”

  “Smiling like what?” Jenna blinked innocently at Rachel, then laughed as her sister rolled her eyes and snapped open the thick, leather menu.

  “Like you’re in love.” As Jenna choked on her water, Rachel kept going as though she hadn’t just said that. “This place has changed a lot. What do you order now?”

  “I’m sorry. Hit rewind. I am not in love with Jackson Wells.”

  “Yet. Not in love with him yet. Or ready to admit it anyway. Seriously, though, let’s stick to the pressing matter at hand right now: tell me about this food.”

  Jenna gave Rachel a death glare, then sighed and picked up her menu. For now, she would let the comment rest. She didn’t—couldn’t—love Jackson. She had literally just gone from hating him to clinging to him and sharing a passionate kiss. And then agreeing to a date. Sure, there were feelings. But love?

  “The last time I ate here was probably about the last time you did. It’s been years. As long as the hushpuppies are still good, I don’t really care.”

  She and Rachel were at JC’s for dinner, the oldest seafood restaurant On Island. Rachel had insisted on seafood from near the actual sea, so here they were. When they were kids, coming with their parents, the restaurant had been full of scarred wooden tables, paper menus with grease spots, and the best hushpuppies in the world. Now it had dim lighting and linen tablecloths. The waiters and waitresses wore black slacks and pressed white shirts. Jenna felt underdressed in her jeans and button-down blouse.

  “You and your hushpuppies,” Rachel said with a groan.

  “Look—you can get good seafood places in cities not on the water. Fresh shipping and all that. But you cannot get good hushpuppies everywhere. It’s a fact. Forgive me for liking a side dish more than the main course.”

  “How do you mess up hushpuppies? It’s fried cornmeal.”

  “Fried cornmeal and a whole lot of magic. Oh, trust me. You can mess them up.”

  “Okay, weirdo. Can you believe this is the same space as where we came as kids?” Rachel shook her head, looking around the dining room.

  “We should see if either of our names are written on the bathroom wall,” Jenna said.

  “Stop. Neither of our names were ever on the bathroom wall anywhere. We weren’t bad enough.”

  “Maybe we should write them there then. I think I’ve got a Sharpie in my purse.”

  Rachel laughed. “This place is fancy enough that you’d probably get arrested now if you tried it. It’s strange. The whole island has morphed into a very different place.”

  “It has. I don’t like it. I mean, it still feels like it used to, but then not.”

  “Does it bother you that Jackson’s company is responsible for a lot of the development?”

  Clearly Jackson was going to remain the hot topic for the evening. She had already rehashed the kiss in the elevator multiple times. It filled her with giddy, girlish thrills when she had talked with Rachel about it. She’d much rather talk about his mad kissing skills than Wells Development.

  Jenna made a face. “The reality is that the island is going to change. I’d rather have someone like Jackson who grew up here behind it than someone Off Island. A place like Sandover can’t stay secret forever. The Outer Banks still retain some of the old with the new. We’ll survive.”

  “It feels less like home every time I come back. And now—”

  When Rachel broke off, Jenna knew exactly why. Her own throat had closed up as well, thinking of their mother. Of home. And the house that was and was not home, that was and would soon not be theirs anymore. Their eyes met across the table, both fiery with emotion. Naturally, the waiter chose that moment to return.

  As they placed their orders, Jenna thought about the afternoon of packing up. The real estate agent had been gone by the time Jackson dropped her off. Rachel had avoided sharing what Kelly had said or what they discussed. Jenna knew it was coming, but had been content to let it go so far. She had other things on her mind. She and Rachel had finally cracked open the vault that was their mother’s room and started going through her things together.

  As they were packing up her mother’s closet, Jenna came across that yellow sweater she had always hated. Just the sight of that ugly yellow sweater had set her crying, clinging to the scratchy acrylic material among all the empty hangers. That started Rachel crying too, and they both sat weeping in the floor of their mother’s closet until the crying turned to laughter about how much they both hated that sweater. And then they fought over who got to keep it. Finally, they decided it deserved joint custody. Rachel would start with it, then mail it to Jenna in a few months—a new tradition.

  “Okay, sister. You’ve been tight-lipped about the meeting today with Kelly. Time to share how that went and why you put off telling me.”

  Rachel started fidgeting with her napkin and then moved on to play with the sugar packets, lining them up by color on the table. It was bad then. The house wouldn’t sell? Or needed thousands in repairs? She needed to stop thinking of all the things it could be while she waited for Rachel to answer.

  “We talked about the market and made a list of what needs to be done. She was impressed with how much we’ve—you’ve—done.”

  “And?”

  “And we agreed to put the house on the market Saturday.”

  Jenna swallowed hard, her throat suddenly bone-dry. She took a sip of water, which had slices of cucumber and lemon. Normally, Jenna might like that touch, but today it made the water taste like plastic. She didn’t want to have a fight with Rachel in their limited time together, so the pause gave her time to measure her words. It didn’t really work.

  “We agreed?” She scoffed. “Let’s try you agreed. To seven days from now—that Saturday? You agreed to put the house on the market in one week. Even though you are leaving tomorrow and aren’t coming back to do anything else. You’re just dropping this in my lap and going?”

  Jenna’s voice rose with every word until she realized that she was close to shouting. Rachel looked apologetic, but it was the kind of apology where she wasn’t sorry for what she had done, but sorry that Jenna was upset about it.

  The waiter appeared with Jenna’s Caesar salad and a cup of lobster bisque for Rachel. He had the worst timing.

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel said when the waiter had disappeared. She put her hand across the table, but Jenna moved out of reach. “I knew it would be challenging, but I thought it might be a good thing to rip the Band-Aid off.”

  “It’s not your Band-Aid.”

  Rachel looked hurt, but also angry. “It’s both of ours. We’re in this together.”

  “We are in this grief together, yes. But as far as the house? We’re only in it together this weekend. When you leave tomorrow, you’re leaving me in it.
Alone. To do whatever all needs to be done on the list you made without me, on the timeline you decided without me. And you just expect me to jump because you say so.”

  “I can’t be here, Jenns. I have a life to get back to.”

  Jenna dropped her fork and it clattered against her salad plate. She was halfway to the bathroom before rational thought broke through. Her hurt and anger burned so deep that it seared her numb. When she reached the ladies’ room, she gripped the countertop and stared at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes darker than usual, a stormy sea.

  They fought so rarely that Jenna didn’t know how to do it. Rachel decided things. Jenna agreed. That’s how it went, and she was mostly happy with it, or at least content to not have the weight of decisions fall on her shoulders. This was too much. The “I have a life” comment cut too deeply. The truth in the words made it hit harder and hurt more.

  Rachel had all the things Jenna thought she would: the great husband, the kids, and the shared faith that kept them all together. Jenna had an ex-husband, which felt worse to her than never having a husband at all, no house, no job, no roots. Her faith had been shaken and her future felt like looking into fog.

  But Rachel was right—these things made Jenna the only one of them who really could take on the project of their mom’s house. She had even agreed to it. Jenna knew this, but that didn’t dim her strong feelings about it. Right or not, Rachel should have asked. And she shouldn’t have said what she did. It was a low blow.

  Though it was justified, Jenna’s anger felt ugly, the same way that it had when she said so many cutting things to Jackson over the last week. She didn’t want to be this person. Was it grief? Had it made her ugly and angry?

  Jenna sighed out a breath and washed her hands, even though she didn’t need to. The cool water soothed her and the scent of the lavender soap made her feel fresh and lighter. Rachel would apologize. Jenna could let it go. And she could gather her strength together and get the house ready.

  When she came back out to the table, there was a plate full of hushpuppies sitting in the center of the table that she hadn’t ordered. Clearly, a peace offering. Rachel’s eyes were full of apology.

  “Two things,” Rachel said, chewing. “First of all, I’m sorry that I made the decision without asking you. We can totally call Kelly and shift the dates.” Jenna nodded, waiting. Rachel swallowed. “And second, you were completely right about the hushpuppies. They should be their own food group. How am I just figuring this out?”

  “I’ve tried to tell you for years.”

  “I should have listened.”

  “You should have.” Jenna took one of the hushpuppies from the plate. It was still warm and just the right color brown. Sometimes they got over-fried, leaving them too-brown and burnt-tasting. When she took a bite, the inside was still soft, almost doughy. The flavor of herbs and onion in the mild cornmeal exploded over her tongue. She moaned.

  “Yep. They can change the décor all they want as long as they keep this recipe. Still the best On Island.”

  Rachel took a sip of water. “The other thing I’m sorry for is that comment. I honestly didn’t mean it how it came out. It was a horrible thing to say and an apology isn’t enough. Neither is a basket of hushpuppies.”

  “Actually, I think the hushpuppies made it all good.”

  “Are we okay?” Rachel asked.

  Before answering, Jenna reached across the table and touched her sister’s hand. “Yes. Don’t bother calling Kelly to change the dates. I’ll finish things up this week. It will be a good challenge for me. Though you now owe me, big time.”

  “Totally. One giant favor, owed to you. Done. Are you sure, though? I know this means rushing, but you can also make the closing date later if you need to. Kelly made a list of things she thought you could do before Saturday so they could have an open house. We can go over it if you want.”

  “I’ll be fine. Remember I sell homes for a living? I know what to do and how to stage a house for sale. Let’s just enjoy dinner and not worry one bit about plans and packing and sad things. Okay?”

  The waiter, finally timing this well, arrived with the main courses. The table was crowded with plates since Jenna had barely touched her salad and the plate of hushpuppies was definitely staying. She was relieved for a few minutes without conversation as they ate in companionable silence.

  Seven days. This felt like another loss somehow, even though Jenna had known it was coming. Putting it on the market felt like a definitive ending. Not just to the house, but to her marriage and her mother’s life. To life as she knew it. It was an ending without a beginning on the other side. At least, without a beginning Jenna knew about. She wouldn’t need to move out right away. It might not sell quickly. But if it did, that didn’t necessarily mean a quick closing date. She still had time to figure out the rest of her life. Or, at least, the next step.

  To figure that out, she needed to know more firmly what was happening with Jackson Wells. They would have dinner tomorrow. She was already as nervous as she was excited to see him. Today had been such a 180-degree switch. At least for her. Jackson had been nothing but kind to her since she came back, so the flip had been all her.

  Had he simply been waiting? Hoping? Did he really want her, specifically, or just someone? What had happened to him that he was so different now from who he had been? So many questions that she hoped to get answered. No matter what the answers were, though, she also did want more of the not-talking and just kissing. The thought made her smile around her food.

  After a few minutes, Rachel set her fork down and groaned. “I don’t want to go home tomorrow. Back to having every conversation interrupted by little people—even though I’ve missed them like crazy—and back to a diet that can’t include fried shrimp. I have the perfect solution! Let’s both move back into mom’s house together.”

  “I’m sure Brady won’t mind at all.”

  “He would veto this plan, even though he is a saint. Maybe he and I should move back On Island, though. I mean, if you stay. It would be kind of amazing to raise kids here. I don’t know about his law practice though and how much work there’d be here.”

  “On Islanders need lawyers too. But I don’t know if I’ll stay anyway. I’ve thought about moving to Burlington.”

  “Really? That would be amazing. I would love having you close by. The girls would freak. But Jackson. I mean, what’s happening there?”

  “I don’t know. Today in the elevator, it was like Jackson unleashed. Telling me openly how he felt, kissing me. What if it was just in the moment?”

  “Didn’t he ask you to dinner after you got out?”

  Jenna bit her lip. “He did.”

  “Maybe the situation simply allowed him to be bolder. It doesn’t sound fake and you didn’t feel like it was. Do you think something serious could happen between you?”

  Jenna couldn’t remember the last time she smiled so much in one day. “Ask me tomorrow night. Or later in the week. I honestly don’t know. This whole thing is such a shock to me. I mean, even if things progress, could I stay for him? Should I? I’ve had enough of my life revolving around men and making bad decisions because of them.”

  “This was where you grew up. If you do stay, it wouldn’t just be for him. It’s different. For what it’s worth, I think he’s a great guy. My teenage self would be shocked to hear me say this, but we aren’t kids anymore. There’s a humility and a kindness to him that I think is rare. And if we’re being shallow—”

  “Which we’re not.” Jenna pointed her fork at Rachel.

  “Which we’re not, obviously, because we’re better than that. But if we were—he does own our favorite grocery store and has a killer house on the beach.”

  “But we aren’t being shallow.”

  “Never. We aren’t those women. Deep and wide, deep and wide.”

  Jenna snorted. “Did you quote a classic Christian song to describe us?”

  “Deep and wide are ve
ry general terms. But yes, I most certainly did. Problem with that?”

  “None at all.”

  “Good. One last thing on Jackson. I wouldn’t be a good sister if I didn’t tell you to be careful.”

  Once again, Jenna felt whiplash from Rachel’s words. “You just said all this good stuff about him! Now you’re telling me to watch out. What happened to him being awesome and mega-rich and blah blah blah?”

  Rachel toyed with her fork and Jenna’s stomach sank. She had already been through a range of emotions today between the elevator, the packing, and this dinner. What little control she had left was hanging by a thread.

  “I do like Jackson. The thought of you with a great guy makes me happy. I just want you to be careful. I’m worried about you. You’ve been hurt worse than anyone should be and haven’t been loved the way you deserved. Not ever. I worry that it’s too soon for you to trust someone else. Jackson isn’t the guy we knew back then. But that doesn’t mean he can’t break your heart.”

  Jenna’s stomach fell. Worry began to gnaw at her and she grimaced. “I wasn’t thinking about having my heart broken, but now I am. Thanks for that.”

  “Aw, sis. You know I’m just trying to look out for you.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m the big sister, so that’s supposed to be my job for you. And I’d like to stop talking about big deep issues and finish these hushpuppies instead.” She gave Rachel a smile that she hoped conveyed a lightness and a confidence she definitely didn’t feel. “The sad thing about hushpuppies is that, like most fried food, they don’t reheat well. So, we need to eat them now. Your shrimp can go home in a box. These can’t. Eat up.”

  “Yes, big sister. Whatever you say.”

  Jenna tried to push away her worries and all the heavy things that hung over her to simply relish in her favorite food with her sister. But just under the surface, all those things sat, gathering and growing in the dark, like they were just waiting to rise to the surface. Rachel was probably right—this was too soon to get into a relationship. No matter how great of a guy Jackson had become or how quickly he had begun to invade her heart.