Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3

by Laurie Larsen

  She rose and went to him. “Then tell me, Daddy. What did he do, other than the obvious? He made terrible business decisions and ran the business into the ground. The company went bankrupt and everyone lost their jobs. Are you referring to anything other than that?”

  “Well, ain't that bad enough?”

  “It is bad! But that was twelve years ago, Dad. What have you done lately? Why have you been unemployed ever since? Why didn't you bounce back and get another job, eventually? When was the last time you even applied for one?”

  She didn't mean to yell at him but she realized when she stopped that her voice echoed off the walls. He twirled on the spot and stomped down the stairs, mumbling. Emma looked at her mother. She was frozen in place, her mouth and eyes wide open. Soon, her father's shouted words came to her, “As long as you're with him, you don't respect me. And as long as you don't respect me, you're not welcome in my house.”

  Mom burst into tears and ran out of the kitchen.

  Emma focused on the pounding of her heart in her chest. She stood quietly for a few moments while the overwhelming beating of a bass drum passed. “That went well,” she said quietly, and went to find Mom.

  She was in her bedroom. Emma could hear the sobbing through the closed door. “Mom? Can I come in?” She took the non-response to be acquiescence. She pushed the door open slowly. Mom lay on the bed on her stomach, her face buried in her elbow. It killed Emma to see her mother so distraught, especially the fact that she herself had made her that way.

  She rested on the bed behind her, rubbing her back. “Mom, I'm so sorry. I went too far. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to him. I'm sorry.”

  Her mother sniffed and scrubbed her face with her palms. “You never know when to stop.”

  Emma shrugged. It was probably true. It was why she went into journalism. She asked the hard questions. She wanted to know the story beneath the surface. But she supposed that didn't work well with family secrets.

  She rubbed her mom's back, waiting for her to calm down. After a few minutes, she did. She sat and faced Emma, wiping her tears on her sleeve since she had no tissues around.

  “Mom, I don't want to upset you again. But I have to think that I didn't say anything to Dad that you haven't wondered yourself. Am I right?”

  Her mother stared at her, unable or unwilling to agree with her. But she didn't disagree either, and Emma took that as encouragement to continue. “Mom, hundreds of thousands of people around the country have lost their jobs. Sad, but true. But there are others. How hard did Dad look for a new job?”

  She sighed. “You don't understand. Getting fired really ate away at his self-confidence. Your dad wasn't good at school. He never finished high school and wasn't qualified for many jobs. He'd found his niche with roofing. It's a thankless job that many men won't do. Dangerous. Up high with nothing to hold on to. Sun beating down. Sweaty work. But Dad learned the trade.”

  “How long did he work for the Harrisons?” Emma was relieved her mother was talking, and not as mad at her as her father was.

  “Years and years for the father. But not full-time. Mr. Harrison had a small operation and only called Dad in when he needed roofing skills. It was actually the son who hired Gary on full time.”

  “So Dad was sort of a free-lance roofer? Went from job to job.”

  Edna drew in a long breath and let it out. “I guess. He would hook on with construction companies and do the roofing, move from house to house. But it was never steady. Nobody hired him on as a full-time salaried employee until Jeremy did.”

  Interesting.

  “Until then, Dad's work was sporadic. Always looking for the next job. Sometimes off weeks between jobs. It wasn't easy. Especially since I wasn't working full-time then.”

  “So Jeremy helped him, you'd say.”

  “Yeah, for a while. Till it was all over. Then he was in worse shape than ever.”

  “Why? Sounds like for the several years he worked full-time, he was better off, but when he lost that gig, he was back to what he had before.”

  Mom placed her hands over her ears. “Oh, Emma, stop it. You're twisting my words and getting me confused.”

  Emma pulled her mom into an embrace. “I'm sorry, Mama. I don't mean to hurt you or Dad. I'm really just trying to get to the bottom of it.” They sat quietly for a minute. Emma tried again, “So after Harrison and Son went bankrupt and everyone lost their jobs, what happened to Dad?”

  Edna studied a snag in the bedspread. “He collected unemployment. For like, nine months or so. Or maybe a year? About half his previous income. But I went full-time at the agency so it about made up for the shortage.”

  “Okay, then what? Eventually unemployment benefits run out. Did Dad look for work?”

  Her mother stood, went to her mirror and straightened her hair. She tugged on her sweatshirt and said, “I don't want to talk about that, Emma Jean. Leave it be.” And she left the room.

  Emma rose and followed her into the kitchen. “Come on, Mom. This has bugged me for a while. Why does Dad have to stay home all day? Why can't he work?”

  Her mom slammed her hand on the counter. “Because he's an alcoholic, Emma Jean. Your father's an alcoholic.”

  Chapter Eight

  Emma let a few days pass without getting in touch with Jeremy and coincidentally, he let the same days pass without getting in touch with her. Almost like he knew she needed some time and distance to deal with the explosion at her parents' house. The man must be psychic.

  She didn't see him on Saturday because he'd signed up for another craft fair about an hour away. About eight PM, she called him.

  “Hi!” His greeting sounded genuine and happy to hear from her.

  “Hey, I was thinking about tomorrow morning. Mind if I go to church with you? Then maybe we can hit breakfast afterward. I've got some things to talk over with you.”

  He hesitated. “Okay,” he said cautiously. “The first part sounds good, but the second part sounds ominous.”

  She chuckled. “Paranoid much?”

  The next morning, Jeremy picked her up and they drove to church. It was a white wood structure with a huge white cross extending off the roof. It rested in a little valley, with hills rising up around it. It was delightful.

  As they walked in, Jeremy rested his palm on the small of her back. He leaned in and whispered close to her ear, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  She shivered, pleased with his praise and his proximity. She'd put on a simple cotton dress with sandals. The late November temperature was mild, and with a sweater over her sleeveless dress, she was comfortable. She beamed her smile at him and his returning grin brought warmth to her heart.

  Several people waved at Jeremy as he walked into the sanctuary and selected their seats in the pew. In fact, several people raised eyebrows at him, smiling their approval that he'd brought her.

  When they were settled in, she teased, “Am I the first woman you've ever brought here?”

  He gave her a pointed gaze.

  She opened the bulletin an usher had handed her when she walked in. She reviewed the list of activities they'd go through in the service. Lots of singing, a little bit of Bible, and a sermon. Oh, and a baptism. She hoped it was an infant. She knew some churches wanted baptisms to occur as early as possible, and others preferred people wait until they could understand what they were doing. But she loved babies and wouldn't mind oohing and aahing.

  The service began and Jeremy helped her with the logistics — finding the right book, the right page, pointing out the instructions of when to stand and when to sit. There was no kneeling in this church. Jeremy seemed to know exactly what to do and he participated in all of it, but not loudly. He sang quietly. He said “Amen” at the end of prayers, but he wasn't the type to yell it or raise his hands like some members around him.

  It was just like him not to want to stand out in a crowd.

  She followed his lead. When the preacher finished his sermon and began a long prayer,
she closed her eyes and listened. It was a long hour, probably because it had been way too long since she'd attended a church service and wasn't used to the routine. She'd definitely come again, if Jeremy would bring her. She learned a lot, and it did her heart good to hear all the positive talk. When the baptism turned out to be a baby girl wearing a gorgeous white flowing gown, she took Jeremy's arm and pointed. “Isn't she cute?”

  He nodded and smiled at her, leaning his head close to hers. She wondered if he'd kiss her, but he didn't.

  On the way out, they stood in line to shake hands with the preacher. Jeremy introduced her and the man said, “So nice to meet you, Emma. Glad to see you here with Jeremy.”

  She looked at Jeremy and his face was tinted a little pinker than normal. They walked through the lobby and a poster taped to the wall drew her attention. “Excuse me a second,” she told Jeremy and stepped closer to it. He waited for her by the door. A stack of papers containing the same message as the poster sat on a table. She grabbed one and shoved it in her purse.

  Later, they were settled in at an ocean-facing window at a grubby little diner. One of the best things about living coastal is that a photo-ready view of the ocean was never far away. Regardless what the diner looked like, they had the best view in the house.

  After they ordered, Jeremy reached across the table and took her hands in both his. “I missed you yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah, how did the craft fair go?”

  “It was good. Not as good as the one in Myrtle Beach, but I talked to a lot of folks and signed contracts on seven pieces. It'll keep me busy a while.”

  Their coffees came. They both reached for the little pitcher of creamer at the same time. Her finger jabbed into his accidentally. He grinned. “Wow, you're a little violent before your first cup of the morning.”

  She giggled. “I already had my first cup, before church.”

  They doctored their respective brews. “It was so cool that you came to church with me. What'd you think?”

  “I liked it. I can see why you go every week. Like you said, it's a break from the routine. And how can you not help leaving there feeling good?”

  “Yep. It's good for your soul. You're welcome anytime.”

  “Thank you. I'd like to sign up for next week.”

  His beaming smile let her know how he felt about that.

  “And was I mistaken or was your pastor teasing you a little bit about having a girl with you?”

  His face blushed again. Hmmm, good to know. She'd have to tuck that knowledge away for future use. “Hey, I had the prettiest girl in the place sitting next to me. He was probably just jealous.”

  She laughed. After a few sips, she put her cup down and looked him in the eyes. “Jeremy, I need to tell you about my visit to my parents' house last week. How it turned out. I went there to talk about, well, you.”

  “Me?” he said grimly.

  “Well, yeah. You know they're not your biggest fans, right?”

  He nodded. She told him the whole story, including the revelation at the end. Throughout the story, emotions flickered guardedly across his face. He never spoke and when she finished, he remained quiet.

  Their breakfasts arrived. Neither seemed hungry for the heavy food now. Jeremy picked up his fork but pushed the eggs and hash browns around the plate. Then he put it down with a clang. “I'm sorry, Emma. This is all my fault.”

  She stared at him. “No! No, it isn't. You missed the whole point of the story.”

  “I must've. You got in a big fight with your parents because of me. Your father hates me and doesn't want you to see me. Can't say I blame him, by the way. Your mother hates to raise her voice, and she ended up yelling at you over me too.”

  She put her fork down too. “Jeremy, listen. My father had a reason to hate you ten years ago. He had a steady job with benefits for the first time in his life. You were generous enough to offer him that. But the reason he is unemployed today, and has been for a decade, is not because of you. Not by a long shot. It's his own fault! During the time he was collecting unemployment, he was drinking too much. By the time his benefits ran out and he should've been dragging his butt out looking for a job, he was too far gone. He was an alcoholic. He couldn't give up the beer. Not without coming to terms with what he'd done to himself. Blaming you is a cop out. It is now and it always has been.”

  Jeremy's eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open. He took his napkin off his lap and threw it on the table. He pushed his plate back and looked distractedly away, his mind probably racing with all she’d told him. She nibbled at her food, ate a few bites of egg and toast, but realized she was done.

  “I'm sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence.

  She reached for his hands. “Jeremy, you don't have to apologize to me. You haven't done anything to apologize for.” She squeezed his hands and then let them go. She dug in her purse. “Now, what do you think of this?”

  She pulled out the flyer for Alcoholics Anonymous. A meeting was held in the church several times a week. Meeting dates and times were listed, along with a brief motto, “A New Way of Life Without Alcohol.”

  He blinked. “Do you think your dad would attend?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. But we've got to ask him, don't we?”

  Jeremy let out a deep breath. “We? I gotta tell you, Emma, I'm in way over my head here. I don't know how to feel, how to act. I think I need to think this through. Alone.”

  She nodded. “Okay. No problem.”

  They paid the bill and left, then drove home in a contemplative silence. When he pulled up to her apartment complex, she said, “That's okay. You stay in the truck. You don't have to walk me up.”

  He nodded, distracted. “Look, I hate that you got in a fight with your parents over me. I can't help but think that maybe your life would be simpler without me in it.”

  She turned and pulled him closer by his collar. “Who said I wanted a simple life?” Landing her mouth on his, she gave him a kiss she wanted him to remember. Whatever thinking he would embark upon over the next few days that involved her, he would think about this moment. When she broke from him, she continued, “Doing the right thing isn't easy. But it's worth it in the end.”

  With that, she opened the truck door and jumped to the ground.

  * * *

  One of the best things about working for himself was that when Jeremy wanted to be a loner and escape from people, he could. For the most part. Of course, he wasn't totally alone in the world. His dad or Leslie sometimes stopped by or called, and occasionally Marianne. After ten years of being surrounded by people he had no say in choosing, sometimes it just felt right to be by himself.

  Now was one of those times. He had some thinking to do. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had a girlfriend. Someone who made him excited, optimistic and happy. Emma knew him and accepted him, warts and all. He was a better man with her around.

  But what did he provide her? He couldn't offer her anything. He certainly wasn't looking for commitment or marriage, not until he got his post-release life better underway. Not that she'd given him any inkling that she wanted that with him either. He was barely making ends meet, so he couldn't offer her anything that required funds. She deserved way better than him, but he wasn't about to be the one to convince her.

  Whether she had dubious taste in men or not was debatable. But this fight with her parents over him, really rattled him. He wasn't worth losing her good standing with her parents. He didn't want the responsibility for that, not knowing what the future would hold.

  For three days, he stayed home, working on his furniture jobs around the clock, not seeing or speaking a word to another soul. However, after three days of isolation, he still hadn't come any closer to an answer. When the phone rang and it was Leslie saying she had a surprise for him, she extended an invitation to come over to the Old Gray Barn.

  “Yes, thank you, I'll be over,” he said, ready to break his solitude.

  “
And of course, bring Emma along. We'd love to see her, too.”

  “Oh, um, you know, she's tied up all week long,” he lied, although he'd never been very good at it. “But I'm sure she'd thank you for thinking of her.”

  Even to his own ears it sounded lame, but Leslie responded warmly, “You know she's welcome anytime. See you at five.”

  Late that afternoon, he got in his truck and drove the short distance to his dad and Leslie's beach house. The place was so comfortable and spacious it did his heart good just looking at it. He knocked, then walked right in. “Hello?” he called.

  The house was quiet, but he walked through the length of the main floor to the screened-in porch in the back. There, sitting on wooden Adirondack rockers were his dad, Leslie and Leslie's college-aged daughter, Jasmine. He'd met her at their parents' wedding a few months ago. Jasmine was in the middle of a story which had his dad and Leslie in stitches. When he walked in, both Jasmine and her mom stood up, grinned and pulled him into a tandem hug.

  He laughed, soaking it up. Family was something that confused him, attracted him. It gave him mixed feelings, due to the way his actions had messed up his own for so long. But he worked to let all that go and enjoy the simple pleasure of the hugs of these two women who loved him.

  “Jasmine! Nice surprise.”

  She pulled away and smiled up at him. “You didn't have your heart set on a gift wrapped present, did you? I wouldn't want you to feel let down.” She tapped the rocker next to her. “Come over here and sit down. Can I get you a drink? A beer? Wine? Soda?”

  “A beer sounds good, but you don't have to wait on me. You sit right here and I'll be back in a second with it.”

  “Nope.” She practically pushed him into the seat. “I've been sitting for two days in the car. Need to stretch my legs.”