by Sarita Leone
Steve stopped right in front of Annie. In another lifetime, he might have scooped her up, held her close, and kissed her until neither of them could remember their names.
Instead, he blurted out the confession that made him feel like a freak.
“I’m the candyass the guys over there hate. I’m the jerk who looks fine on the outside, but has some shitty luck—and it matches the bullshit heart murmur I’ve had since I was a kid. Hell, I’m cleared for everything by the doctors—except serving my country. Strong as a horse, but the ticker has a little sound that keeps me here with the women, children, and old ladies. Shit!”
She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. He couldn’t stand her pity. Or her disdain. Two feet from a war widow, and he had the balls to say he sat on the sidelines while her husband lay in his dress uniform in a military-issue coffin.
“No, don’t say anything. Please, don’t. I’m sorry, Annie. I know I must make you sick. Me and my goddamn stupid excuse—shit, I’m a poor excuse for a man, and that’s the truth.” He swallowed hard, wishing he were anywhere else.
“Steve—don’t, please—”
“Stop! No pity—hate is better than pity. Don’t you see? I make myself sick. I hate this. I hate admitting to you that I’m a useless man. I hate the looks people give me when I walk down the street. I hate the fact that I’m solid and strong—but with a weak heart. Fuck, isn’t the heart the most important part of a man? Me? No good heart—that’s enough for anyone to know. You should steer clear of me. I’m not a real man. I’ll never deserve the respect someone like your Brian or any of the other heroes deserves. Never. I’m bad—right to the heart of me.”
Before she could say one single, solitary word, he stepped onto the bench and leapt to the dock. He couldn’t take the hurt in her eyes—it cut right to the quick of him, tore into the already-busted heart in his chest.
And the single tear slipping silently down that beautiful cheek tore him in two.
Chapter 24
“Tie-Dyed Heart is a much better name for this place than Montgomery’s ever was. It’s catchy, and pulls in the crowds. Good thinking, Annie.”
Traffic inside the store had been non-stop since their grand opening on Friday. They had been open for business every day since, and their business had been brisk. Bordering on frenzied at times, actually.
By Tuesday morning, Clarisse looked in need of a break. Wearing a vee-neck, tie-dyed t-shirt, the logo heart displayed across her chest, she looked young and hip, but Annie knew Brian’s grandmother was tired. It showed around her eyes.
“Thanks, but it was really Sienna’s idea, you know. The tie-dyed heart thing? All hers.”
The crowd had thinned since lunchtime. Typically there was a lull as tourists returned to motel rooms for naps with children or hit the beach for some late-day fun in the sun. It was a good time to send Clarisse on her way—even if only for a short while.
“Then we should make sure her bank account is padded accordingly.” Clarisse straightened the display of socks, adding stock from a box taken from the storeroom. By this weekend, they’d need to make more socks to keep up with the demand. Floppy hats, too. Mothers snatched them up as quickly as she could make them. “After all, she is part of this business, even if she is too young to draw a salary.”
Clarisse had insisted they agree on a salary arrangement. It wasn’t much, considering neither knew just how well the store would do, but it supplemented the government check she and Sienna received every month. Now that they were staying at Clarisse’s house, their bills were less than they were before but they still had expenses. Whenever she could do it without upsetting their hostess, Annie made a trip into the A&P to pick up odds and ends to supplement the pantry. Clarisse wasn’t crazy about the idea, but a few cans of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup or some Fanta could be called children’s fare—and not cause a big disturbance.
Sienna’s college fund had existed from the day Annie and Brian saw the obstetrician, old Doctor Martin, the same fellow who delivered Brian, for the first time. They’d gone straight from the waiting room filled with waddling mothers-to-be to the First National Bank and opened a savings account for their unborn child.
Both Annie and Brian agreed that education was the answer to many of life’s questions, and wanted their kids to have every opportunity to learn as much as possible. They’d even discussed teaching the baby—once it was born and able to speak—several languages. They’d hoped that someday they could, as a family, take global excursions. Brian had taken his last excursion to Vietnam, but Annie hadn’t forgotten their hopes for their child. Sienna was fairly fluent in Spanish. In the fall, coinciding with the start of the school year, Annie planned to teach her to speak French as well.
Brian was gone, but his plans for his daughter were still being honored. So, whatever Clarisse deemed Sienna’s share of the business profits would go straight into the bank account the child’s father had insisted upon.
“That’s great. Thanks. I want doors to open for her when the time comes.”
Annie leaned against the wooden counter behind her. She had just pulled out a fresh bundle of tie-dyed bandanas to add to the display. Holding them tight against her chest, she thought about her child’s future. Neither she nor Brian had advanced degrees. Hers was a liberal arts bachelor’s degree, with a concentration in literature, and his had been a bachelor’s degree in chemistry. They’d planned to travel, read, and save the world—in their wildest dreams.
“They’ll open, all right. Sienna’s sharp as a tack.” Clarisse patted the cash register after depositing two fresh rolls of change into the drawer. The machine had been stored in the back room. It was the original used the day the store opened when she was a young bride. Annie watched the process, thinking the register must hold so many more memories than pennies for Clarisse to treasure. “I know that whatever my great-granddaughter wants from life, she’ll get. Why, it’s a whole new world for women, isn’t it?”
Annie lifted an eyebrow. Hearing something and seeing it put into action were two separate things.
“That’s what the news would have us believe. But even with everyone burning bras, protesting for equal rights, and sitting in wherever there’s space for a sit-in, I don’t see much has changed. I don’t know, Clarisse—maybe I’m just blind, but it seems like women are still working hard to keep the world running and just not getting recognized for it.”
“Back in my day, dear, a young widow would never have the freedom you do, if you don’t mind my saying so. Driving a bright red car and experiencing the world the way you’ve done these past years. My word, but it’s incredible—and so strong and feisty of you! Twenty or thirty years ago, a woman in your position would have been shuffled from place to place at the mercy of kind relatives or strangers.”
“That’s pretty much what’s going on here. You’re kind enough to take us in and—”
Clarisse cut her off. “That’s where you’re wrong, Annie. The shoe is on the other foot with our living arrangement.” She paused, took a deep breath. “Look around us. I wanted to do this for years—oh, not the tie-dyed part, that’s all you and your girl—but I wanted to open the place for business again. I wanted to see it live again. I wanted to live again. I’ve been dusty and much too quiet these past years. I closed myself off—and my kids saw that. Until you and Sienna breezed into my life, I wasn’t really living. I was existing—and that’s not the same thing at all.”
“But you have the Historical Society. Your rosebushes. Your gardening. All of that—you’ve been doing great all along. You didn’t need us.”
Clarisse crossed the space. She stood in front of Annie, folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. White curls bounced, cornflower-blue eyes flashed and her lips lifted into a smile.
“You should know better than anyone that’s all fluff. That jibber jabber that fills a day—a week, a lifetime—is meaningless. The relationships we have with the people we love—that’s what makes a
life well lived. This other stuff? It’s good, but unless it’s shared it can be as exciting as watching concrete dry. People. That’s the treasure in life. You know that. And now that you and Sienna are here—my people, the two of you—I’m living again. Making my dreams come true, even at my old age.”
Annie wrapped her arms around Clarisse and gave her a fast hug. “I’m glad we’re here. I love it that we’re doing this together. And, you’re right—it’s really the people in our lives who matter. I know that.”
Clarisse turned and fussed with a pile of shirts that was already perfectly piled.
“Speaking of people, have you heard anything from Steve?”
She wished she could answer differently, but she said, “Not a word. I went to The Shack last night, when I took that walk after putting Sienna to bed. The place was filled, but no sign of him. And I checked the dock a few times, thinking he might be working on his boat, but it’s clear he hasn’t been around there, either. No sign at all—almost as if he’s fallen right off the face of the earth.”
“Or left the Cove for a few days.”
That had occurred to Annie. She hadn’t heard the Harley’s roar lately. And she missed it.
“Do you know where he would go?”
“He’s got a cottage up the coast about twenty miles from here. Family place, left to him by his dad when he passed. Painted bright yellow, almost the same color we chose for this place. With green shutters, and a big flower garden out front. The kind of place that’s had generations of hands tending it, each putting a bit of themselves into it.”
“What part of himself does Steve add to the place? Any idea?”
“Hmm, let’s see… Steve’s always had a thing for engines. Even as a little boy, he took things apart to see how they worked, then put them back together again. There’s a big garage on the property. A VW Bug parked in front; the last time I passed by it was shiny blue with a big white daisy decal on the backside. No telling how it looks now. But that garage is Steve’s safe place, his haven. If I had to guess where he’s gone to, it would be that cottage—and the garage.”
“Kind of like coming home, isn’t it?”
“Exactly.”
Annie went for the opening, and said, “Listen, talking about home…why don’t you run back and rest for a while? This time of day doesn’t require both of us to be here. And Sienna is staying at Heather’s house through dinnertime. I’m so glad she made a friend here, finally. Kids need that.”
“We all need that. And Heather Johnson’s family is a good family. I was friends with her mother’s mother; we went to school together. Your Sienna has chosen well. Her first friend in town is a nice little girl.”
“I’m glad. But hey, how about that rest for you? We don’t want to burn ourselves out all at once. Today you rest. Maybe tomorrow or the day after I’ll take a turn. What do you say?”
They walked to the open door and peered out at the street. Activity was slow, which was a nice change from the morning and post-dinner busyness.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on that piece of advice.” They stepped onto the sidewalk, standing in the shade of the green-and-white striped awning Steve had installed for them. It ran the length of the storefront, and gave shade to those peering into the wide glass windows at their displays. “I am a tad tired. I’ll admit that—even though I hate to let on that I’m a touch weary.”
“We worked through the weekend, and it’s been busy, besides. It might calm down some after the new-shop-on-the-block effect wears off. Not that I’m hoping for it. I’m just saying we’ve worked hard, and it’s okay to be tired.” Annie worried Clarisse might overextend herself. She acted much younger than her years. “You go on home and—”
Annie’s blood ran cold in her veins.
Clarisse followed her gaze. A sharp intake of breath, and a hand to cover her mouth. “Oh, no.”
The dark blue sedan drove slowly down the street. The military plates gave it away before the occupants of the vehicle were clearly visible.
Annie had seen a sedan like the one that drove past them. She’d been the one to open the front door and receive the horrible news the two men were sent to deliver. That harmless-looking sedan meant only one thing.
The car parked in front of Lobster Heaven. Soldiers in full dress uniform emerged from each side. They placed their hats on their heads, adjusted them to the correct angle, and nodded to each other. They mounted the steps to the store. One man held the door open, and they disappeared inside.
Before the door closed, Clarisse whispered, “Good Lord in heaven, another of our boys gone before his time. This goddamned war has got to end before we’re a country of women and babies!”
Annie’s knees had turned rubbery. No reply came to mind. Two women held the fishing supply store under their care. Two women, each with a soldier off to war.
One of them had lost her man. Her future. Her dreams.
She could barely breathe. Clarisse squeezed her arm, forcing Annie to turn toward her.
“Are you okay, honey? I can’t imagine how awful this is for you. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Annie lied. “Really, I’m fine.”
Clarisse accepted her lie. “Okay, then. I’m going over to hold those girls up. If you can’t handle the store by yourself…I don’t know. Just close up for the night, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Her eyes filled with tears. Inside the other store, just steps from where they stood, someone’s heart was breaking. It was almost more than she could bear. “I’m fine. Help them—they need you now.”
Chapter 25
Ronnie Murray wasn’t coming home alive. The army men who had delivered the horrible news assured his wife and sister that his remains would return, what was left of him, but it would take a while before that would happen.
Every time Annie looked over at the darkened storefront or the black banner above the sign on the door to Lobster Heaven she wanted to cry. She knew life wasn’t fair, but how unfair did it have to be? None of it made sense, none of what they saw as escalating fighting and so-called tension between the armies seemed logical.
Maybe it didn’t seem logical or make sense because it wasn’t and didn’t. Nothing had changed since Brian’s death. How much longer would they have to watch the senseless fighting claim lives?
She kept the radio playing in the background. Tuned to a station out of Bar Harbor, playing mostly anti-establishment hippie rock, it filled in the cracks in her mind when there were no customers in the store for her to focus her attention on.
In the week following the grim news, she had barely functioned. The awful nightmares she’d struggled with after Brian’s death returned, waking her screaming from already-restless sleep. She’d taken to sleeping on the sun porch, away from Sienna. It was bad enough she was being dragged into the past; no need to tug the child into her horror.
Clarisse spent a lot of time making meals to deliver to Ronnie’s family. She didn’t wait to be asked to help the women. She stepped in and did what needed to be done. She made tea. Wiped tears. Offered a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen. She was the mother neither woman had, and Annie knew how invaluable Clarisse’s presence in that broken household was so she assured the older woman that her place was with Ronnie’s family.
The added work of tending the store herself was beneficial. It cut down on time to think. Time to feel. Time to remember how it had been.
Still, she felt plowed under. The sparkle went out of the beautiful sunny summer days. There was no temptation in the watermelons or ripe peaches on display at the local produce stand. Clarisse didn’t bother to stock her stand. She said it wasn’t the summer for it and let it lay empty. A large sign said “Closed Indefinitely”, discouraging anyone from stopping in.
Annie hadn’t seen Steve. Not once. Not even visiting Ronnie’s sister and wife after the news hit town. It seemed inconceivable he didn’t know what happened. Even the tourists knew. They asked questions about the
black banner, crossing their hearts and probably thankful the dead soldier wasn’t someone in their circle of friends and family.
Sienna asked about the news. Annie had explained it as she always did, saying men died in war and that the soldier left behind a loving family who now grieved for him. Every time they had this conversation, Sienna seemed to understand more. Annie walked a tight line between what constituted a truthful explanation and one that might make the fact she’d lost her own father to the same shitty war worse for her daughter.
After listening carefully, with wide eyes and impassive expression, her daughter mulled the facts over in her head for a few minutes. Then, she’d come to the point in a way children did so well. “War sucks.”
Annie had agreed. War did suck—and loved it that her kid was smart enough to realize something grown men didn’t get.
Heather’s mother, Evelyn, offered to keep Sienna at her house with her own children during the day while Annie worked. Annie accepted gratefully, confident that Evelyn, who had five children of her own, could care for Sienna and show her a loving, safe environment. It was, after all, summer—and kids were supposed to love summer.
Ronnie’s body wouldn’t return home immediately, which meant the funeral couldn’t be planned or carried out until Uncle Sam did his part. No one could let the young man’s passing go unnoticed, so a celebration of Ronnie’s life was taking place at The Shack. A week had passed, and the Friday gathering was five hours away. Annie thought for sure she’d see Steve beforehand. The waiting was killing her.
When the customer rush dwindled after lunch, she made a decision. She shut the front door, put the “Closed—please come another time” sign on display and went out the back door. She locked the place behind her, got into the ’Cuda and headed out of town.
How hard could it be to find a yellow cottage with green shutters? If Steve wasn’t coming to her, she was going to him. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it…hopefully, this time she would have better results than she’d had last time.
