“Speak of the devil, where is Nick? Arizona again?” Donna asked the group.
There was a collective intake of breath as everyone remembered the Walkers had been sailing down to Baja and back for the last five months. Rita put her hand on Maddy’s arm and gave it a small squeeze. Sympathetic eyes looked to Maddy, then Mary Delfino, hoping for a sign telling them the right thing to do or say.
“Yes, he’s spending the holiday with his family,” Mary began.
“But he’s moved to Bellevue, to be near his daughter,” Maddy finished for her. The words came out naturally, without hesitance or regret.
Maddy realized it was the first time she’d thought of him in the past twenty-four hours; a record of some sort. It bothered her and Maddy began to make space in the box Jaed always referred to, for Nick’s memory. Then she stopped herself, with the understanding that the room she had to spare inside that box had nothing to do with Nick. It had everything to do with old hurts and fears.
“I’m sure he misses everyone a lot,” she continued. “You guys are a great family.”
“Yes, Madeleine’s right,” Mary said. “And I’m sure I can tell you all this with his blessing – something you probably never knew about him. He used to play professional baseball, and he’s finally going back to it, in a sense.”
“Patrick McKay! That’s who he is!” The astonished voice was Bill Walker’s. Someone else – was it Norm? – said, “I thought he looked familiar!” and the room buzzed with the newfound knowledge, but Maddy’s questioning eyes never left Mary’s.
Mary Delfino’s words, although loud enough for the group to hear, were meant for Maddy. “He’s decided to establish an instructional facility for children. He wants to share himself, and his expertise, with them.”
Maddy slowly smiled. It made perfect sense. “He loves baseball,” she said. “And kids. He’ll be great at it.”
The happiness in the room – a communal pride for a member’s success – was palpable. Maddy’s eyes filled and she quickly turned her head away to regain her composure.
This was the answer. She’d shared herself with Nick, proving it was possible. For a short moment in their lives they’d formed a partnership, but it had been a piece of something much bigger. As Maddy again looked around the room and saw the excited faces, watched them settle down once again, saw them pull together for the game about to begin, she let the tears fall.
“Hey, Maddy. You gonna be okay?” Rita asked.
“Don’t worry about these.” Maddy waved a hand at her face; her wet cheeks. “These are the best thing to happen to me in years.” She laughed at Rita’s puzzled look. “Besides this place. And Nick.”
“Sure?”
“Rita, I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.” Wiping her eyes with a paper napkin, Maddy said, “Whose team am I on anyway?”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Nick was beginning to feel like the only permanent fixture at the airport bar. He’d already witnessed a shift change and a liquor delivery. He was nervously working on his third beer and second bowl of pretzels, only ninety minutes into the three-and-a-half hour layover in San Francisco. He’d read yesterday’s, and today’s, Chronicle, the former having been left on the stool next to his. Other passengers came and went while he sat and waited. Chairs were at a premium. He’d staked his claim early.
The airport was a zoo. Bad weather around the country, coupled with the Monday-after-Thanksgiving, had turned every ticket counter into a standing-room-only crowd of weary, impatient travelers. Kids whined and cried. And from the look on the parents’ faces, Nick could read their thoughts: ‘Grandma and Grandpa can come see us next time.’
Nick lifted his eyes to the television set hanging on the wall, but nothing had changed. The subject was still “Men Who Are Afraid To Love,” and Sally Jessy Raphael was still working the audience like a born-again tent show queen. His frustration, already tipping the scale at ‘high,’ mounted.
He’d been trying to get home for three days. The day after Thanksgiving, he was on the phone with the airline, trying to change his ticket, but nobody was flying into Seattle. No one could.
Nick knew he’d nearly driven Kay insane, but he didn’t do “powerless” well. His need to talk with Maddy became a quest, and the more he was thwarted, the harder he fought against the forces that held him in Phoenix. By Friday evening, when it looked like he was stuck there until his scheduled flight on Monday, Nick announced his intent to rent a car. His sister had ripped the phone book from his hands, called him a lunatic, and said, “How the hell are you going to get through the passes? By the time you can, it’ll be Monday, so you might as well wait here.”
And so he’d waited like an imprisoned man counting down his minutes to parole.
Once he’d let himself actually feel his loss, it hadn’t taken him any time at all to figure out life was better with Maddy in it. Nick grimaced at his stubbornness.
Yeah. It only took about two months, McKay.
“Need a refill?” The bartender – Tomás by his nametag – leaned into Nick’s field of vision.
Nick looked down at the glass, surprised to see it empty. “How about a coffee, instead.” He pulled a ten out of his wallet and pushed it toward the man. “This is yours if you save my seat.”
“You got it.”
He quickly walked to the men’s room and got rid of most of the three beers. As he rinsed his hands, Nick glanced up out of habit. What he saw in the mirror made him stare, the running water forgotten.
I look like shit. Shit, I look worse than shit. I look like what shit looks like on a really bad day.
Bending over again, Nick cupped his hands, filling them with cold water, and brought them to his face. He gasped at the shock then groaned at how good it felt against his burning eyes.
He hadn’t slept more than twelve hours in the past four days. And when he did sleep, the dreams that filled his subconscious wore him out even more. Dreams of slow traffic, missed connections, long lines that never moved. And, of course, the inevitable nightmares as he tried – and failed – to save someone close. Thankfully, Becky didn’t have a role in them. Maddy was the star.
Nick splashed another handful of water on his face.
It had sounded like Becky was having the time of her life. He’d called her every day since the storm hit, and her only complaint was it had happened during vacation. Missing school always made for a bigger adventure. They’d only lost power for a day up in Bellevue. But the rural areas were still doing without.
Hotels were inundated with locals craving warmth. Health clubs, whose members hadn’t touched a weight machine in months, were suddenly very popular. Not for their aerobics classes, but for their hot showers. And restaurants were doing land-office business. People were sick of eating unheated soup and drinking tap water.
There had been a lot of injuries and one death, when a tree fell on a car crushing the woman inside. It had sickened Nick to hear the story. And it scared the hell out of him.
A cup of lukewarm coffee waited for him as he slid onto the barstool again. It was bitter and barely drinkable, even with the three packets of sugar. The channel on the TV had mercifully been changed. Nick listened to the closing Market report on CNN Headline News while considering doing the crossword puzzle. The words “damages mount in the Pacific Northwest” got his attention as he reached for a pen.
“Just as the Puget Sound region has begun digging itself out of the worst winter storm in recent history, new weather woes are plaguing the area.”
The same images he’d been watching for three days flashed on the screen – downed trees, gleaming snow as far as the eye could see, traffic pileups – and Nick’s interest began to wane.
“Two days of warmer temperatures, heavy rain, and high winds are taking their toll with flooding and mudslides. Reporting from Tacoma, Washington, here’s Eric Springer.”
And suddenly Nick was looking at Salmon Beach.
The footage was t
aken from a boat, because it was the only way they’d be able to get that particular shot of the cliff coming down, taking Number 34 with it. Unable to withstand several tons of mud and rocks, the house had collapsed into the Tacoma Narrows that morning.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
Nick knew the place well. He’d refinished the kitchen cabinets for the Cavanaugh’s last year. It was two doors down from Rita and Susan’s house, and Nick felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.
“…no injuries. Apparently the owners are out of town for the winter.” The reporter’s face filled the screen. “Although the rains are letting up, no one here on Salmon Beach is out of the woods yet. Already unstable, the cliffs above the small community pose a very real threat to several other homes. Back to you, Michelle.”
He couldn’t sit still any longer. Nick pushed away from the bar, shouldered his flight bag, and headed for the United terminal to wait.
As Nick drove through the open gate the truck’s headlights picked out evidence of the storm. His tires crunched over layers of debris. An immature fir tree had been sawed in two. It must have fallen across the road. Half lay to the right, and half to the left. The rain had dwindled to an occasional drop, but as he drove under the trees, wind gusts shook showers onto the roof of the truck. Small, sooty piles of melting snow – the last of it – lined the dirt shoulder.
Leaving behind the city streetlights, Nick took the curve too fast and the back end of the truck fishtailed on the slick surface of wet leaves and asphalt. Correcting just in time to miss another downed tree, he impatiently slowed until he reached the unlit parking area.
Nick got out, closed the door, and was enveloped in darkness. The rhythm of water dripping on leaves was the only sound. Salmon Beach, always murky, was now completely invisible. Flipping on the flashlight, he made his way to the stairs. He had to step over a limp power line lying across the downward path. The beam barely penetrated the woods, but from what he could see it looked like a bomb had been dropped.
As he neared the bottom of the steps, Nick could make out faint lights in some of the homes. Candles and oil lamps, probably. The strong smell of wood smoke was carried up the beach with the wind.
His footfall was deadened by the wet dirt. No one came out to see who was walking the path this late. It felt strange coming back. Familiar, yet different. Like visiting a childhood home decades later.
Turning on to Jaed’s porch, Nick stood for a moment. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite sure what to do, or say, if and when Maddy came to the door. He’d practiced what he thought were the right words, but he’d been gone so long. And been so unfair. What if she told him to go to hell?
His insecurity getting the better of him, Nick found himself walking up the path, checking the damage. And there was so much of it. Small mudslides had encroached on the walkway. A full-sized madrona tree had fallen to form a natural bridge from the crushed roof of Number 65 to the bank. But the major retaining walls seemed to be holding, just like the residents. They didn’t need his help, although he would gladly give it if they asked.
Which brings us back to the real reason you’re here.
He’d crouched behind home plate for too many years to count. He’d survived broken fingers, hits to the mask, and grounders that caught him in the balls, all of which brought tears to his eyes, but never stopped him from suiting up the next day to do it all over again.
Nick turned back with renewed purpose. He wouldn’t know Maddy’s reaction to seeing him until he faced her and he stepped up to Jaed’s front door.
You can do this, McKay.
His knock brought no response, and he tried again, harder this time, with the butt of the flashlight. Still nothing.
Nick walked to the edge of the porch and peered into the darkness. He could see the golden glow of the fireplace reflected in the window and nothing else. Moving back to the other side of the house, Nick finally saw the unnatural aura of another flashlight.
He didn’t think twice about letting himself in the front door. He knew it would be unlocked. He knew Maddy.
Nick had to sidestep the furniture which had been moved within a few feet of the fireplace. The house was better lit than he expected. Votive candles burned in all the far corners. They lined the mantle and the kitchen counters. There must have been fifteen or twenty of them, and as he passed the dining room table, Nick set the flashlight down.
About to step out onto the deck, he stopped short when he saw her. It had been such a long time, but Maddy was just as he remembered her. She was still beautiful, even layered in heavy winter clothes. And she was still stubborn and charming, in her own eccentric way. Desire and love shot through his body as he watched her.
Maddy was halfway across the deck, struggling with the enormous flowerpot that held her rose. Her Love, he recalled her saying. The wind must have knocked it over. It was bundled in something, bulkier and more awkward to handle than before, and she wrestled with it until she finally got it upright. When she turned, her eyes searched for the flashlight that lay on the deck floor a few feet away. Directing the beam toward the rose, she began dragging the pot back to its home near the French doors. Nick could see the warm puffs of her breath as she worked.
Unable to take it anymore, Nick softly said, “This is where I came in.”
Startled, she straightened and turned. It was hard to read the expression on her face. He wanted to see joy, but it was too dark to tell. She didn’t say a word, but simply stood, regarding him.
Nick tried to smile, but her silence made him too nervous. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he took a step outside. A heartbeat passed. Then another. Finally, Nick said, “Y’know, the first time I saw you, you were trying to haul that thing out of the boat. I thought you were the craziest woman I’d ever seen… I probably fell in love with you right then.”
“As I recall, you didn’t try to help me then, either,” she said.
Nick’s insides did a slow meltdown at the sound of her voice. “You didn’t need it.”
“At the time, I thought I did.” Maddy gave the pot a final shove with her knee, and came toward him. “How was Phoenix?”
“Warm and dry.”
“Lucky you.” She walked past him, into the dining room.
“Lonely,” he continued, but she didn’t respond. He tried a different tack. “I heard about the storm while I was there. Tried to get back sooner, but couldn’t get an earlier flight. I saw the Cavanaugh’s place on the news.”
“It was awful, the whole house gone like that.”
“Lucky no one got hurt,” he said. “I was worried – I am worried… about Mary.”
Removing her jacket, Maddy’s eyes searched his. “Then you should be talking to her. She’s staying at the Nelsen’s. I’m sure you remember the way.”
“Maddy, I’m sorry. For everything. Please tell me I’m not saying that too late.”
“Too late for what? I forgave you a while back, Nick.” She walked to the kitchen. “By the way, I heard about the business you’re starting.” Maddy stopped and turned to look at him. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. It all sounds perfect. I know you’ll do really well.”
There was a sincere warmth in her voice that hadn’t been there earlier.
Nick followed her to the kitchen. With hands planted firmly on the island countertop between them, he said, “Listen to me.”
She gazed across at him, and Nick finally saw what he’d been hoping for. Maddy Phillips couldn’t hide what she felt behind those expressive eyes, and they gave him courage to go on.
“I’ve been told – more than once – that I need to get my shit together. That all the good stuff’ll follow when I do. Well, I think I’ve done that.”
She looked down, and out of frustration Nick slapped his right palm down on the tiles.
“Maddy!”
Her head came up.
“Tell me I’ve done that.”
“You’re the only one who knows for sure,” she a
nswered.
“I’ve been through it all, Maddy. And I’ve learned one big lesson. It’s better with you. You’re the best of the good stuff.”
Nick watched as she distanced herself from him. First, physically, by leaving the kitchen to go stand in front of the fireplace. He waited a few seconds before pushing away from the counter, and went to stand behind her. But she folded her arms; held them tightly against her body. And it was this emotional distancing that he knew he wouldn’t be able to take.
“Maddy, please… I don’t know what else to say besides I love you.”
“That’s not the problem, Nick. It’s never been the problem.”
“Is it Danny? I said I’m sorry.” He gently grasped her upper arms and held on. “I know I can be pretty dumb when it comes to stuff like that, Maddy.” He pulled her a little closer, until their bodies were only inches apart. “Look. He’s your brother. I understand where you’re coming from. You love him, and that’s the way it ought to be. I’ll learn to deal with it the best way I can.” Her hair smelled of wood smoke and rain, and Nick wanted to bury his face in it. Wanted to bury himself in her. But she hadn’t made a move to bridge the gulf between them. “Maddy, he might make trouble for us, but not between us. Never again. I promise.”
When she finally spoke, it was with quiet determination. But the subject didn’t make sense to Nick. And she still stood facing the fire, not him.
“You said you came because you were worried. Was that the reason? Because you thought I needed rescuing?”
He let go of her arms and weighed the consequences of being honest. “Okay, yeah. I guess that was part of it. But I was ready to call you before I found out about the storm. And what’s wrong with worrying about someone you love?”
“Nothing, as long as you didn’t have it in your head to save me.” Maddy turned around at last. “I don’t need you to save me, Nick. Maybe I thought I did, once.” She paused. “Danny’s not here anymore. He left a few weeks ago.”
A Sea Change Page 38
