Winter at the Beach

by Sheila Roberts

  “Okay, fine, we will. But I still want to see her. Like I said, I’ll take her the weekend before Christmas.”

  “And like I said, we’ve got a festival that weekend.”

  “Well, you’ve got to let me have her sometime. Anyway, Mom will think of something to do with her and she won’t even miss the festival.”

  “Mom?” So, he was going to pawn Sabrina off on his mother. “I thought you wanted her.”

  “I do, but they want to see her, too. Okay? It’s not fair to them to keep her away.”

  It wasn’t. And, of course, his parents would make the visit worth Sabrina’s while with more excursions and spending sprees.

  “I have no intention of doing that,” Jenna said.

  She found herself suddenly jealous. She knew she shouldn’t be. She wouldn’t have been if she and Damien had still been together. They’d have been one team, working to bring up Sabrina, all four of them contributing to her happiness and well-being. This felt more like competing teams, trying to win her loyalty—Team Mom versus Team Dad.

  Still, Team Dad deserved a chance to get in the game. And even if they were now two different teams, they all wanted Sabrina to win.

  “So the weekend before. Okay?”

  “If she wants to, yes.” And Disneyland with the grandparents in the summer. Jenna would have loved to be the first one to take her daughter there, but the important thing was that Sabrina would get to go. Meanwhile, she and Damien could work on building a healthy relationship. Well, as healthy a relationship as one could build with a narcissist.

  That settled, he nodded. “Okay.”

  “Thanks for bringing her home” Jenna said, determined to end the conversation on a positive note.

  “No problem,” he said, and got in his car and drove off.

  She walked back to the house with mixed feelings. Yes, she wanted her daughter to have a good relationship with her father, but she also wanted Sabrina to love her best. Not very noble. Not even very mature. But there you had it.

  She sighed. Life got complicated when the love of your life turned out to be the biggest mistake you ever made.

  She forgot about Mr. Mistake once the partying started. Tristan came over, bringing along a pumpkin roll his mother had baked. The turkey pops came out, along with the root beer and the microwave popcorn. Tristan and Sabrina stretched out on the floor with the bowl of popcorn between them, and the women settled on the couch and in chairs. The movie played in the new DVD player that Jenna and Celeste had gone in on together for Aunt Edie, the fire in the woodstove crackled, and life was good. And maybe, if Jenna was lucky, her daughter would decide she’d rather stay home for the Seaside with Santa festival.

  Of course, Jenna wouldn’t say anything to persuade her one way or the other. If she wanted to spend that weekend with her father, then she should.

  * * *

  “Daddy already texted me. I want to go,” Sabrina said, when Jenna brought the subject up on Sunday evening after her mom and sister had gone home. Aunt Edie was over at the Oyster Inn, showing Patricia Whiteside pictures of the freshly painted float, and it was just the two of them in the kitchen, making turkey soup.

  “It is the Seaside with Santa festival,” Jenna said casually. Not that she was trying to influence her daughter. Just mentioning it.

  Okay, she was trying to influence her daughter. She told herself to cut it out. Damien was making an effort to be a more involved father, and she needed to support that effort.

  “I know,” Sabrina said. “But Grandma Petit wants to take me to see the Gingerbread House display at the Sheraton. We’re gonna spend the night there. And she and Grandpa are going to take me to a musical.”

  Oh, boy, how to compete with that? You didn’t. “What about Daddy?”

  “We’re going to watch horror movies Friday night.”

  A horror movie marathon, just what Jenna wanted her daughter doing.

  “Don’t worry,” Sabrina hastily added. “Daddy said to tell you no R-rated sex.”

  “Just plenty of violence.”

  “It’s all fake anyway.” Sabrina’s brows knit. “You’re not going to say I can’t go, are you?”

  “Of course not. You need time with your dad.”

  “Anyway, you’ll be busy running the festival,” Sabrina said.

  She was right. Jenna was going to be busy with the festival. So, everything would work out fine for all concerned.

  But darn. She would’ve loved to have her daughter with her for all the fun. Sharing was hard when you were a kid, but it didn’t get any easier once you were a grown-up.

  * * *

  Darrell left school feeling old and worn-out, not a good way for a guy still in his fifties to feel. The kids in his classes had found it hard to settle down after the long weekend and his patience had been frayed to a ragged scrap. Lately, he found himself wishing he could afford to retire early and let some other schlub deal with the next generation. Whether or not Tommy Skinner or Ariel Ingersol passed Algebra just didn’t seem that important compared to the question of whether or not his wife lived. If she didn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d want to.

  He let out a tired breath as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot. They had plenty of leftovers from Thanksgiving, but he didn’t have the energy to mess with them, and he was sick of turkey. He’d pick up a pizza and a bag of salad greens. Once in the store, he also got some chocolate for her and a six-pack of beer for himself.

  He wandered over to the book and magazine section and picked up a book by Brenda Novak, one of her favorite authors, figuring it would make a nice treat. She hadn’t done much blogging lately, other than about her adventures fighting off cancer. Maybe it would do her good to concentrate on something else for a while.

  God knew, he wished he could think about something else. Sometimes he wished he could run away, forget this was all happening to them. He hated seeing her so miserable, hated feeling so helpless. He should have become a doctor instead of a teacher.

  Back in the car he turned on his favorite classic rock station and pumped himself up listening to Huey Lewis and the News. “The Power of Love.” Oh, yeah. By the time he pulled into the garage he was able to smile. They’d have pizza, find a movie on Netflix and relax.

  “Hey, babe, I’m home,” he called as he walked into the kitchen. He looked to the right, hoping to see her in the family room, parked on the couch. It was deserted. He knew what that meant.

  He set his groceries on the counter and went upstairs to the master bedroom. The drapes were pulled and the room was dark. A small form was visible under the covers. Had she managed to get up at all?

  He tiptoed over to the bed to check on her, make sure she was breathing. Probably irrational, but that was always the first thing he did. She was still wearing her pink sleep hat.

  Other than the day she’d had her head shaved and the few times he’d helped her shower, he’d rarely seen her bald. “I can’t even stand to look at me without my hair,” she’d explained. “I’m not going to make you have to do that.”

  “As if I care,” he’d said. And in a way, he didn’t. Yet that little bald head was both a reminder of what she was going through and how fragile life was. He would never tell her, but in some ways he was relieved that she kept her head covered. He didn’t like dwelling on what she was facing any more than she did.

  As if sensing him leaning over her, she opened her eyes, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. She was still with him.

  She smiled up at him and, as always, that sweet smile squeezed his heart. “Hi,” she murmured.

  “Hey, you,” he said, and touched a hand to her cheek. “You gonna sleep the day away?”

  “Maybe,” she answered with a sigh. “I’m so tired.”

  He’d known this would happen. Hosting the family gathering had been too much for her.

 
; She spoke before he could say anything. “I wanted to do it, Darrell.”

  “I know,” he said. “But you can’t be pushing yourself like this, babe. You need to concentrate on getting well.”

  “I am,” she insisted. “But I also need to concentrate on living. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” She patted the bed. “Sit down. Tell me how your day went.”

  He eased onto the edge of the bed. “The kids were shits. I’d rather have been home with you.”

  “Well, you are now.” She started to push herself to a sitting position.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m going to heat us some leftovers.”

  “No, you’re going to stay put. I brought home pizza.” He grabbed the remote from the bedside table and aimed it at the TV mounted on the wall. This was new. Before she got sick they’d always found plenty to do in the bedroom and had no need for a TV. But installing one had turned out to be a smart idea. It kept her company when he was gone and she was too tired to read. “Find a show you want to watch and we’ll have a lazy night.”

  She subsided back against her pillow. “I like the sound of that. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I did take on a little too much.”

  “Do you think?” She frowned at him and he added, “But you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t wanting to do things for everybody.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “But now I want you to start doing something for somebody very important.”

  “You?”

  “No, you. I want you to stop pushing yourself. Give yourself permission to take it easy and concentrate on beating this thing, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “No more entertaining until all your treatments are done.” She pouted at that. “I mean it, Kat. You have got to take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. You mean too much to me.”

  “Okay,” she promised.

  “Good,” he said, and took her hand in his. Was he imagining it or were even her hands feeling frail these days? He rubbed her palm, considering.

  “What are you thinking?”

  He was thinking what he was always thinking, that he couldn’t lose her. “I’m thinking I’m going to cancel that trip to the ocean.”

  “No,” she begged.

  “It won’t have been that long after your next chemo.”

  “I’ll rest right up until the minute we leave. Please, Darrell. I’ve been looking forward to it. I’ll pace myself.”

  He continued to waffle, and she continued to plead. Finally, he agreed to keep their plans in place and went down to the kitchen to heat up the pizza.

  He supposed she was right. Even if this all failed, if it turned out... He stopped the thought before it could go any further. Kat wanted to experience as much as she could while she could. He’d probably feel the same way in her shoes. Heck, he’d probably go skydiving like he’d always wanted to. His wife loved life. He loved his wife. They were going to the beach.

  Chapter Eleven

  Time seemed to speed up once Thanksgiving was over. Between doing things around the motel, running her massage business and wrapping up details for the festival, not to mention getting her Christmas shopping done—shop local!—Jenna was busy. She still carved out time with Sabrina to make their popular chocolate bark, which they always gave away to friends and neighbors during the holidays. Jenna also carefully packed up some to send to both sets of grandparents, along with an invitation to come visit her at the beach.

  Aunt Edie and Sabrina took care of the baking, starting the first weekend in December, making Christmas cookie staples—frosted sugar cookies, spritz cookie wreaths, gingerbread boys and Russian tea cakes, which Aunt Edie had dubbed snowball cookies. Tristan hung around during these baking extravaganzas, earning his keep by helping Sabrina with her math homework.

  There’d been no more romantic interludes in the bedroom, and Jenna had decided to reward their good behavior by allowing Sabrina to go to the Christmas ball with him. Plus Hudson and Jennifer, and two boys from church. All in Tristan’s mom’s old Volvo station wagon.

  “Eleven o’clock curfew,” Jenna had said. “And no stops between the dance and home.”

  Sabrina had rolled her eyes but agreed to the rules.

  In addition to cookie baking, they put up the decorations, which included everything from a vintage ceramic Christmas tree with tiny lights that Aunt Edie had created back in the seventies to a centerpiece made from pinecones spray-painted gold (another Aunt Edie creation), and a small Nativity set on her vintage buffet. Her love of dolls was also evident. A Victorian girl dressed in a red velvet coat sat on a tiny rocking chair next to a miniature tree in the front hallway, waiting for Santa, and a clown doll popped from a giant red felt stocking hung on the living room wall. An artificial tree stood in one corner, and with Aunt Edie supervising, it had taken Jenna and Sabrina an entire evening to decorate—not simply because two households’ worth of combined ornaments had them on ornament overload, but also because many of Aunt Edie’s came with a story and had to be examined and properly oohed and aahed over. “This was the first ornament Ralph and I ever purchased for our tree.”... “We bought this one the year we opened the Driftwood for business.”... “Jenna, do you remember making me this little walnut ornament?”

  Jenna had her share of memories, too. She smiled at the Baby’s First Christmas ornament her grandparents had given her when Sabrina was born. There was also one from her mom and one from the other grandma and grandpa. Sabrina had once asked her why there were so many, and she’d replied, “Because you were a big deal.” She still was.

  While the women got ready for the holidays, Seth and Pete worked on pulling the float together for the festival, and now it was almost done. Jenna was delighted with how their mini Driftwood Inn had turned out. It was an exact replica, right down to the fishing net and the driftwood on the outside wall of the office.

  She came home from running errands one day to find Seth attaching the fringe to the bottom of it—metallic blue vinyl, which dressed the whole thing up beautifully. “Oh, wow,” she gushed, “it’s the perfect final touch, like putting on jewels to go with an evening gown.”

  He stood and stretched. “All it needs is a princess.”

  Jenna sighed. “I wish Sabrina was going to be here to ride on it.”

  “You should be riding on it.”

  “Oh, no,” Jenna said with a shake of her head. “I’ll be too busy troubleshooting. Anyway, my sister’s going to be on it. That will be plenty of eye candy.” Besides, Celeste was the ham in the family. She loved doing this sort of thing. Jenna, not so much.

  “You can never have enough eye candy on a float,” he said.

  He was right. She eyed him speculatively.

  “Women,” he clarified.

  “Hey, women like eye candy, too.”

  “Men don’t ride on floats,” he said scornfully.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know.”

  “You’re a chicken.”

  “Yeah? Well, looks like I’m not the only one,” he said and went back to work.

  “Where’s Pete, by the way?” she asked.

  “He went to the house to get us some water two hours ago. Haven’t seen him since.”

  What a surprise. “That’s a long time to be thirsty. I’ll get you some now.”

  “Don’t bother. I got my own an hour ago.”

  “Well, come on over when you’re done. Aunt Edie’s made up a batch of hot buttered rum batter and she’s baking more cookies.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Yes, it did. Cookies, hot buttered rum and Seth Waters—an excellent combination. Funny how quickly he’d become like one of the family.

  Except she didn’t think of him as a brother. She knew he didn’t think of her as a sister, but ever s
ince they’d shared a hot kiss on a summer night he’d kept his distance. She got it. She wanted to be cautious, too. Well, other than the times she didn’t. Being around the man, she was always aware of the live current running between them, and the temptation to grab on to it and let the sparks fly was hard to resist. Not so hard for him, it seemed.

  She found Pete in the kitchen, parked at the table, sampling the hot buttered rum and consuming peanut butter blossoms, Aunt Edie keeping him company. “Seth’s still working out there,” she informed him.

  “I’m going back out as soon as I finish my drink,” he said. “Had to try one of Edie’s cookies,” he added, smiling at her aunt. “Nobody makes cookies like you, Edie, old girl.”

  And nobody consumed as many as Pete, the two-legged locust. Well, he had good taste. Jenna had to give him that.

  “Everybody makes peanut butter blossoms,” Aunt Edie said, waving away the compliment.

  “I’ve eaten my share of cookies over the years and yours are the best,” he insisted.

  “Yours are the best,” seconded Jolly Roger from his kitchen perch. “Roger’s a pretty bird. Give me whiskey.”

  “Just don’t give him any of my cookies,” Pete said, making Aunt Edie giggle.

  “Or mine,” Jenna said and took one.

  “Where’s Sabrina?” Aunt Edie asked her. “I thought she’d be home from school by now.”

  “She went over to Jennifer’s house. They’re dyeing Hudson’s hair.”

  “Purple?” Pete shook his head. He hadn’t been an admirer of Sabrina’s pink hair when Jenna let her color it during their summer of adjustment.

  Jenna ignored him and poured herself a mug of coffee.

  “Well, then,” Aunt Edie said, “I think I’ll try and get some work done on that blanket I’m crocheting her for Christmas.”

  “Guess I better get back to work while we’ve still got daylight,” Pete said, pushing away from the table.