Forever Beach

by Shelley Noble

They finished their ice cream, then lingered in front of the toy shop and the fudge store. Wyatt didn’t call. Sarah thought he was probably just hung up somewhere and that he’d call back when he got the chance.

  Tired out from the playground, the ice cream, and the tantrum, Leila fell asleep in front of the television as soon as they got home, and Sarah went back to her workroom to finish up her neglected timepieces.

  She kept her phone right on the table, but no one called. She thought about calling Karen or Reesa, but the one she really wanted to talk to was Wyatt. She considered calling him again, but that would just be pathetic. She’d left a message; he’d call when he could or if he wanted to.

  But Sarah couldn’t help that little piece of worry from creeping into her consciousness. What if yesterday had finally broken his patience and his love?

  The afternoon crept by, but at least she made some headway on her repairs. At six she and Leila had a dinner of chicken and rice and broccoli, neither Leila’s nor Sarah’s favorite but everybody needed greens.

  Bath and bedtime. Wyatt still hadn’t called. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he wasn’t going to call.

  Sarah read Leila two stories, then took out the Everybody Loves Me scrapbook. This time Leila didn’t object. She was drowsy and snuggled against Sarah. She pointed to the first picture, the one of her with Sarah and Carmen beside her. “That’s my mama and that’s my mommee,” she said.

  Sarah took an emotional step back. That was who they were. Two women who loved the same little girl: Sarah, who could offer her stability and safety and love; and Carmen, who could offer a bio mother’s love that people said was different from all others. But if it was so great, how could Carmen have neglected Leila? How could Carmen’s love be better than Sarah’s?

  Chapter 18

  Sarah knew the minute her eyes opened that today would be different. It would be the first day of her new life. Maybe talking to refrigerators wasn’t so dumb after all. Sam must have talked to her while she slept.

  She was optimistic if a little sad. She loved Leila, she loved Wyatt—she would let them both know. And she would do her best by them and her other friends. And she would live with the repercussions, but not without fighting for what she wanted.

  Sarah rolled out of bed, showered and changed, not into jeans and work shirt but cotton slacks and a new tee. The store was closed Mondays, and she could always change into work clothes later.

  She roused Leila, helped her into the school clothes they’d picked out the night before, and pinned up Leila’s hair in several short ponytails clasped by her favorite pink and blue butterfly barrettes. It wouldn’t pass the fashion police but it would look fine for catch-up school.

  Sarah made Leila granola and yogurt for breakfast and added waffles to her grocery list. She’d have to make a store run today.

  She put Leila on the bus with an “I love you, sunshine,” then went straight to Dive Works to tell Wyatt the same thing. Her feet started dragging before she’d passed two stores, and when Mrs. Bridges who was sweeping the sidewalk outside the antiques shop stopped her to ask about Leila, she was more than happy to stay and chat.

  When she finally got to the dive shop, her heart was pounding. The Closed sign was up. She cupped her hands and peered through the glass window. No movement inside; either Wyatt and Victor were in the back or they hadn’t come in yet.

  Reprieved.

  He’d be at Ocean Brew. She’d meet him there. She wouldn’t declare her love in front of everybody but wait until they were outside. But maybe he didn’t want her love, just a friendship with benefits? They’d never talked about it. Why was it easier to say I love you to Leila than to Wyatt?

  Her old Sarah self was begging her to forget all about it. It could wait. Better not to rock the boat. How embarrassing it would be if he just looked horrified and fled. Maybe he was thinking about dumping her. Maybe he already had.

  Across the street to the right was home and safety . . .

  She turned left.

  The Brew was crowded for a Monday morning. At the height of the season, some of the shops were open seven days a week, so lots of locals were in for their morning jolt of joe and a little of the latest gossip before heading to the sales counters.

  A few tourists, their beach gear and bikes piled up outside by the door, were getting cups to go. Sarah looked around and, not seeing Wyatt, got in line. Once she had her tea she made a quick sweep of the room; several people were using the free Wi-Fi at the counter along the window. A few people chatted around the condiments table, and most of the central tables were occupied.

  She didn’t see Wyatt. He usually took his coffee to go but she hadn’t passed him on the street. Maybe he was running late. Then she saw Victor sitting at a table by himself. He motioned her over.

  Sarah couldn’t tell if it was an invitation or an order, but she was glad to have a seat, and Victor could tell her where Wyatt was.

  He grabbed a chair from the next table and pulled it over for her. She sat down, smiled tentatively. She never knew what to say to Victor; he always seemed to be living partially in some other world.

  “Have you seen Wyatt?” he asked.

  That had been her question, and it threw her off balance that he’d asked her first. “No. Why?”

  “Talked to him?”

  “Not since Saturday.” Sarah was too embarrassed to say she’d locked him out of the house and only talked to him through the door. “Why? What’s going on?”

  He looked at her for an awkwardly long time, his expression blank or at least not readable by Sarah.

  “You want to know?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you holding a grudge or do you really not know?”

  He was beginning to scare her. “I’m not holding a grudge; he just doesn’t want to see me.”

  “Did he say so? That idiot. It’s just like him to— Wait a minute. Do you even know about the rescue?”

  Sarah shook her head. Her stomach started to burn. “What happened? Is he okay?”

  “He’s banged up a bit.”

  “A bit or a lot?”

  “Somewhere in between. Some fools stole a boat to go joyriding. Overloaded it with a bunch of drunk ass— Anyway, they didn’t notice they were taking on water. Boat shoulda never been taken out. Not fit for a bathtub. Lost three passengers.”

  Lost. “Drowned?”

  Victor nodded.

  “That’s awful.”

  “Not as awful as it could’ve been. At least there weren’t any children. They lugged four of ’em out of the water. But two guys were trapped in the cabin. They sent Wyatt and Davey Parker down to try and get them out. They pried the door open, but it was too late, and on the way back up the tub shifted and broke up, and Wyatt and Davey got hit with the roll.

  “Davey’s in the hospital with a concussion and a broken collarbone. Wyatt’s home with a bum knee and some heavy bruises. They’ll be okay, but it’ll take some time. Never did find the last guy, and they searched until almost dawn. Helicopter and everything.”

  She’d spent yesterday thinking Wyatt had finally dumped her, and he had been called away for a rescue and gotten hurt in the process. “Why didn’t he call me?”

  “He didn’t want to bother you. Said you have a lot on your plate right now.”

  “That dummy, did he think I can’t handle one more thing?”

  Victor shook his head. “Well, if you do care—which sometimes I wonder—get your butt over there before that witchy blonde moves in on your territory.”

  “A blonde?”

  “Some girl who came in for lessons. Caitlyn. I called to cancel her lesson for today. She’d heard about the rescue and put two and two together.” Victor gave Sarah a disparaging look. “I don’t know how she found out where he lived, but she hightailed it over there to play Florence Nightingale, before I could call him and warn him.”

  “Oh,” Sarah said. “Maybe he doesn’t need me then.”

  Victor made a nasty noise
in his throat. “Is that an excuse so you don’t have to be bothered. Sorry I mentioned it.”

  “Of course not. I just—”

  The door opened and Victor rolled his eyes. “Not those yo-yos.”

  The same four men Sarah had seen at Dive Works the other day parted the clientele as they made their way to the counter—the winning rescue squad.

  After they got their drinks, they wandered over to where Victor and Sarah sat.

  “Hey, Vic. Heard your boss got banged up the other night.”

  “Yep.”

  “He all right?”

  “He’ll mend.”

  “Shoulda called our team. We woulda shown him how to do it.”

  Victor shrugged.

  Sarah got mad. “People died,” she said.

  “Like I said. They shoulda called us. We know how to do a rescue. Got the trophy to prove it.”

  Sarah stood so abruptly that her chair tipped over. The guy stepped back in sheer reaction.

  “What a stupid thing to say. So you did a few exhibitions faster than our team this summer, not a great feat when our team was one man short because he was helping his wife have a baby instead of racing with a rowboat over his head.”

  She stepped into him, tilted her chin up, and glared at him.

  “And where do you come when you need equipment or have yours repaired or when you just need advice? To Wyatt because he knows what he’s doing. More than any of you, so don’t you dare dis him when you depend on him all the time. Who did you call when you had that kid stuck in the underground cave last year? Huh? Who risked his life to go in and get him? None of you, that’s for sure. So just—just shut up.”

  “Yeah,” said someone from behind her.

  “Hey, chill. We was just razzing him.”

  “Really? When he’s not even here? That’s not razzing, that’s defamation. I think you could find a better use of your time. Go practice CPR or something.”

  “Honey. You just don’t understand how rescue teams work.”

  “I know how they should work.”

  One of his buddies pulled him away. “Come on, Cliff. She’s got you there.”

  “Yeah,” called the barista. “Go on, Cliff, until you got something nice to say.”

  The second guy stayed behind for a second. “You’re absolutely right. Joking sometimes gets outta hand. We didn’t mean anything by it. We totally respect Wyatt.”

  Sarah just gave him a look.

  He turned to Victor. “Tell Wy we all hope he and Davey get better soon.”

  They left and kept walking, but Sarah could see them talking, and she knew the other three were giving Cliff their opinion of his humor.

  She turned around and found the entire coffee bar was looking in her direction. Mr. Sykes from the real estate office lifted his cup. “Way to go, Sarah.”

  “I second that,” said Tony Alonso from the bakery. Then everyone was lifting their coffee cups and murmuring support.

  Sarah felt the blood rush to her face. What had gotten into her?

  She grabbed her chair and sat down hard. Looked over at Victor. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

  “I can’t either,” he said. “But it’s about time you did.”

  SARAH STOOD ON the sidewalk in front of Wyatt’s Victorian. It had been easy enough to decide to go check on the state of Wyatt’s injuries when she left the coffee bar. She’d planned to see if he needed anything, groceries or prescriptions or something. That’s what friends did.

  But she hesitated and felt the same paralyzing fear she’d always felt steal over her.

  It was crazy. They were friends. At least she hoped they still were. Maybe she’d tried his patience one too many times, and Saturday had been the final straw.

  She reached in her bag. She’d call first. Let him know she was outside. Ask if he wanted company. And then she had a terrible thought. What if that blonde—what had Victor called her? . . . Caitlyn—was already there?

  That’s why she’d call, and then he could say, no, don’t come in.

  She lifted her phone out and swiped it open.

  He picked it up before the first ring ended.

  “It’s Sarah.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Good enough.”

  “I just wanted to know if you needed anything?”

  A jagged breath. “I’d really love it if you’d stop standing on the sidewalk outside and come in so I can sit back down.”

  “You see me?”

  “Yeah. I’m watching you from the window.”

  Sarah looked up and saw him standing on the other side of the glass. He raised his hand slowly, then stepped out of view. She closed the phone and hurried up the walk to the porch.

  She had to wait for him to open the door and when he finally did, she understood why.

  One side of his face was purple. He attempted a smile, she thought. But it looked more like a grimace. And when he moved back to let her in, he was moving slowly and carefully. He was wearing a T-shirt and gym shorts, and his whole left side was scraped and bruised.

  “Oh, Wyatt.” Her eyes teared up. Stupid.

  “Hey, I probably look worse than I am.”

  “You look awful.”

  “Yeah, well, I feel pretty awful.”

  He turned and hobbled across the entryway and to the couch. The coffee table was covered by glasses, ice packs, several bottles of water, and two prescription bottles that must be pain pills.

  He eased himself down on the couch and leaned back against the pillows he had piled against the arm of the couch, using his hand to lift his leg onto the cushions.

  “Can I do something?”

  “Sit down here.” He patted the edge of the couch.

  She dropped her bag on the floor and slowly sat down beside him, careful not to jar any part of him.

  “How did you get to the window so fast when the phone hadn’t even rung yet?”

  “I was already there.”

  “Were you expecting someone?”

  Wyatt touched her nose. “You. Victor called to say you were coming. But that you were skittish and might change your mind before you actually got inside. So I was ready for you.”

  He attempted that lopsided grin and winced.

  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me. I thought—”

  “You think too much.” He shifted his weight and cut back a groan.

  “It’s just when I finally opened the door, you were gone.”

  “Because I got an emergency call. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Of course not, I just didn’t understand. I thought you were avoiding me or I would have come over yesterday and . . . and . . . brought chicken soup or something.” She reached over and gently pushed a lock of hair off his brow. She was afraid any more display of affection would hurt him. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come over, gotten you settled, gone to the drugstore for you.”

  “Victor did all that. Anyway, I didn’t want to bother you.”

  She stared at him. “After all you’ve done for me?”

  “I don’t want to keep score, Sarah. We lost three men. Got two of them out of the boat but it was too late. Never found the third one. Then the boat blew and I thought Dave and I were going to go down with that ship.”

  Sarah touched his good cheek. “But you didn’t.”

  “No, but it happened really fast. It’s funny but I had one thought in that split second before you know it’s going to end. It was you, Sarah. I thought of you. Not my shop, or the other guys, or myself or any of it. Just you.” He stopped to take a long careful breath.

  “It sounds corny, I know. Then everything went black for a while. And I was on a stretcher, still alive. Dave was alive. And then a bunch of stuff happened that I don’t remember so great.”

  His eyes closed and Sarah thought maybe the drugs were taking effect, but then he opened them again. “I didn’t think I was ready for that. You know, for us be
ing something more than we are. I slept most of yesterday, but every time I woke up, it was still there.”

  He made a sound that might have been an attempt at a laugh. “I decided to wait and see how I felt when I’m back to normal.”

  “I don’t think you’re back to normal yet.”

  “Nope.” He was sounding groggy, which was good because Sarah didn’t know what to think. She’d come over here to declare her love, but she’d never really thought she would do it. And he’d blindsided her.

  Now she was more confused than ever. Would he forget he ever mentioned it once he was completely lucid again? And “us being something more than we are”? What the hell did that mean?

  She sat watching him for a couple more minutes then got up slowly and tiptoed into the kitchen. She might as well see if he needed anything from the grocery since she was going anyway.

  ILONA CARTWRIGHT WASN’T given to introspection, but it wasn’t to show respect for her mother that she decided to take Monday morning off. She had spent Sunday sitting on her couch, knees tucked up, alternately crying and remembering. Remembering June and remembering Sarah. Alternating between feeling sorry for herself and wondering if her own insecurity had made her miss the chance of being loved. And wondering why Sarah had burst into her office and accused her of betraying her? Because she’d been adopted first?

  But they’d known that could happen. They’d promised to be sisters. But Sarah had let her down. Ignored her all these years, only to show up now? Is that why she came back? Because Ilona had taught her well. Strike before they can, be the aggressor even if you’re wrong. And she had to admit, Sarah had gotten the first lick in with that one.

  She couldn’t help but wonder if she was missing something. Could she have made June love her more? And then she would cry again, like some disgusting soap opera widow. She couldn’t explain why the two women had brought on such an unwelcomed spate of tears.

  Barracuda lawyers didn’t cry. If they did, they wouldn’t last. And she planned on lasting. Actually, what other choice did she have?

  So she took the morning off and applied ice packs to her eyes until they looked near to normal. Only Inez would get close enough to see the residual redness. And Inez would be sympathetic. She was always trying to get Ilona to be more compassionate. That’s why Inez was a secretary instead of a lawyer. Compassion didn’t belong in the courtroom, Ilona knew. But for the first time in her life, Ilona experienced a moment of envy toward the woman who did the most menial of tasks and protected Ilona from the unwanted, the unexpected, and the downright crazy.