“Okay,” she said with resignation.
“I love you, Marla,” Sean said.
“I love you too. I’ll talk to you soon.” But she didn’t talk to Sean soon. It was a long time before she talked to Sean again.
Chapter Seventeen
Marla hung the phone up and cried. Why had she questioned Sean’s slip of the tongue when he called her Merrie? Why didn’t she just take it in stride? If she had, Sean would still be there with her, loving her. She cried herself to sleep with Lucy by her side.
Sean had been gone for two weeks. Marla thought he would be back after his hike, but now she had to accept the fact that he wouldn’t be back. In the back of her mind she was thinking he might never come back. What did he have in Bay Point after all? A bunch of memories of his life with Meredith. He had no family there. Only Marla. He had only Marla, and she didn’t know if he wanted her enough to return.
When a new shipment of dough bowls arrived, Marla asked Jada if she would call Mrs. Answorth to let her know. She just couldn’t face talking to that woman.
“She said she’d come by sometime today,” Jada said after she hung up the phone.
“Jada,” Marla said. “I talked to Sean last night.”
Jada looked excited. “How is he? When is he coming back?”
“Well, that’s the thing. He’s not coming back right away. He’s working as a lumberjack, if you can believe that.”
“A lumberjack? I didn’t know he knew how to do that.”
“He doesn’t. That’s what has me worried.”
Marla and Jada didn’t share too much personal information, both preferring to keep the boundaries between employee and employer, but Marla knew Jada would want to know about Sean. Jada would tell Derrick.
Marla wasn’t on a vision quest like Sean. She wasn’t hiking the Appalachian Trail or anything so grand, but she was grieving. She was working through it. That afternoon, she went to see her mother and told her about Sean.
“What is he doing?” Cynthia asked. “Why would he want to leave like that? We all need to help each other.”
“It’s his way, Mom. He has to do it his own way.”
Marla started spending more time at her parents. She felt she had neglected them in their grief while she was falling in love with Sean. She knew she had been deceitful about Sean, and she felt guilty about that. If only they could understand, but she didn’t think they could. If Sean didn’t come back, they would never even have to understand, and it would become a memory for Marla. A sweet and sad memory.
Cynthia started cooking every Sunday like she used to do, and Marla went over to visit. Like she used to do. Like Meredith and Sean used to do. It was good that Cynthia was getting back into a regular routine and doing things she enjoyed.
But many days when Marla was at her parents, her mother broke down about Meredith. So did Marla, and they would cry together in Meredith’s old bedroom, out of the earshot of her father. They knew it would be too much for him to handle. He kept a tight grip on his emotions, but deep down they knew he was an emotional man.
As she and Cynthia worked through their grief together and separately, Marla kept running Bay Point Antiques. There were days when she wanted to close up shop, quit the business, go find herself like Sean was doing. But she couldn’t leave her parents. They had lost their oldest daughter and they needed Marla more than ever.
So, she kept going to estate sales and yard sales, picking up antiques and vintage pieces. Derrick repaired the damaged pieces, like always. Jada performed her duties as assistant manager of the shop, like always. She continued the blogging and Facebooking and had a pretty big following of more than two thousand people who wanted to see what Jada had to say that day. She wrote about new pieces or older pieces, explaining the history of them. She uploaded before and after photos of some of their furniture. She blogged about special paints and techniques and explained them step by step. She even included some photos of Derrick working on furniture and she and Marla laughed at some of the expressions he made for the camera. Derrick was getting something of a following himself, but he had no interest in that.
He did have an interest in Jada, though. After the night when they’d all gone out dancing, Marla detected a decided shift in the status between the two of them. More than once, she’d glanced outside to see them stealing kisses. She wished Sean were there to see it. She wished they could all go out dancing again, but she knew that evening had been a fluke, a coming together of particular circumstances that wouldn’t be repeated.
Marla and Cynthia joined a grief support group that met once a week at the library. The group was led by a retired therapist, Diane, and they both liked her very much. She was kind and understanding and included her personal experience with grief often in the group sessions. Her husband had died of bone cancer fifteen years earlier. With great skill, Diane helped the participants face their grief. She encouraged them to cry or get angry or express any feeling that they had. “You will always feel your loss,” she said. “Always. But you can come to a level of acceptance so that you can continue to live your life, hopefully in a productive way. But never let anyone else tell you when it’s time to stop grieving or how you should grieve. That’s unique for you.” Marla and Cynthia found comfort in Diane’s words.
February moved into March and by the end of the month, azaleas were blooming all over town. Marla picked her mother up one day and they drove to Mobile to see the streets lined with azaleas. Afterward, they stopped at a seafood restaurant for lunch.
“I want you to know how much you’ve helped me, Marla,” Cynthia told her over lunch. “I don’t think I would have gotten to this point without you. So, thank you, honey.”
“I feel the same, Mom. We’re in it together.”
They munched on their West Indies salad and sipped their iced tea.
“Have you heard from Sean lately?” Cynthia asked, breaking the silence.
“Not really. He sends me a text every now and then just saying “Hi,” and I send him one back saying the same thing. We haven’t talked in a long time.”
“I hope he’s doing all right,” Cynthia said. “Now that I understand grief a lot better, I sympathize with him. I didn’t understand, but now I do.”
“I think I do too,” Marla said, and she meant it.
“I do miss him,” Cynthia continued. “We couldn’t have asked for a better son-in-law and he made Merrie so happy. You wouldn’t believe the stories I hear from my friends about their son-in-laws. Such bastards, a lot of them. But Sean was a treasure.”
Marla tried hard to fight back her tears.
“Are you all right?” Cynthia asked, putting her hand on Marla’s. “I didn’t mean to upset you, honey.”
“No, you didn’t. I’m okay. I’m just sad for Sean right now, thinking about him.” She didn’t say thinking about him and missing him and loving him and wanting him to come back to her bed.
March moved into April and it had been three weeks since Marla had received a text from Sean. Business at the shop had been good, especially since the weather warmed up. Marla tried not to think about Sean, but when she did, she realized he’d been gone longer than they had even been together.
Then, one day in late April, Marla was sitting at her desk when a goodlooking young man walked in. That was unusual. Most of their customers were women. “Hey, Marla,” the man said. She jumped up from the desk and started walking toward him.
“Hey, Michael,” she said, smiling. “Long time no see.”
“I know, right?” he said. “I saw on Facebook that you have this shop and decided to just drop in on you. I hope that’s okay.”
She gave Michael a hug. “Of course it’s okay. It’s good to see you.”
Marla and Michael dated for two years in college but broke up in their senior year. She hadn’t talked to him since.
“Can I take you to lunch to catch up on old times?”
“Sure. I’d like that. Let me tell my assistant manager.�
�� Jada was in the courtyard, probably stealing some kisses from Derrick.
A few minutes later Marla came back into the shop and got her purse.
“I don’t remember much about Bay Point from the few times we came here in college. Where should be go for lunch?”
“Steamboat Joe’s is right down the street. We could get some shrimp if you want.”
“I want.”
Marla regretted suggesting Steamboat Joe’s as soon as they walked in the restaurant. She hadn’t been there since the night they went dancing and memories flooded her. She tried not to think about them.
The waitress led them to a booth on the street side and handed them their menus.
“Well, we know we want the shrimp,” Michael said, putting his menu on the table.
“Marla, I heard about Meredith and I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, Michael. It’s been pretty difficult.”
“I’m sure it has.”
“So, tell me what you’ve been up to,” Marla said, wanting to change the subject.
“Well, I turned my passion into a business,” he said with a laugh.
Marla searched her mind for what Michael’s passion had been. She only remembered that he loved to party. In fact, that’s why she had finally broken up with him. She hadn’t seen much of a future in that.
“I own several bars!” Michael said, laughing again.
Marla laughed too. “Really?”
“Yep, they’re called Mojo Mike’s and I’ve got three of ‘em right now. My dad helped me start the first one down in the Keys.”
Marla could picture Michael hanging around in the Keys wearing Hawaiian shirts and a straw hat, drinking margaritas, Jimmy Buffet providing the background music.
“My second one is in Destin and my third one in Panama City. They’ve been very successful.”
“That’s great, Michael. I’ll have to check it out online.”
“I kept the concept pretty simple. Beer and liquor, oysters on the half shell when they’re in season, boiled shrimp, and gumbo. Plus, I bring in musicians sometimes, mostly blues people.”
Meredith’s gumbo flashed through Marla’s mind, and then, Meredith. She forced herself to pay attention to Michael, who was still talking.
“So, that’s why I’m here. Well, in the area at least. I’m looking at a place in Gulf Shores and Mobile. I may do both.”
She looked at her old boyfriend and he seemed so excited. “Let’s celebrate then,” Marla said. “Let me buy you a drink for all of your success.”
She motioned for the waitress and ordered beer. When it came to the table, she raised the mug and said, “To Michael and Mojo Mike’s.” They clinked mugs and drank.
When they got back to the shop, Michael said he needed to get to Mobile to meet someone about the potential bar there.
“It’s been good to see you, Michael,” Marla said. “I’m happy for you.”
“It’s been good to see you too, Marla. Really good. You look great, by the way.”
Marla looked down shyly, and when she looked back up at Michael, she said, “Thanks. You look good too.
“I’m going to be in this area for a while, if things work out like I think they’re going to. I’ll be going back and forth from Mobile to Gulf Shores. You’re right on the way. Can we see each other again?”
“Of course,” she said. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she knew she didn’t know what Sean was doing either. “Of course,” she repeated.
Michael reached down and hugged her and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll call when I come back through tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. She shut the door behind him as he left. Marla Anderson was getting back on the horse.
Chapter Eighteen
Sean and Jesse walked into Billy’s. It was a Saturday night and the place would be hopping. It was always hopping on Saturdays. Sean had been there enough to know that. He and Jesse sat at the bar and ordered their brews, but Jesse probably wouldn’t be there long. The women loved him and soon someone would drag him away to dance or sit in a booth. That was okay with Sean. He was ten years older than Jesse but felt like an old man compared to him.
Shortly after Jesse left his stool, Pete made an appearance. Sean had come to expect him, to look forward to seeing the old man. He had a certain wisdom that Sean appreciated.
“Hey, Sean,” Pete said sitting on the barstool next to him.
“Hey,” Sean said, raising his mug.
After Pete had settled in with his mug, he and Sean began to talk. That’s what they did. Talk. Sean told Pete about cutting down trees, how much he had learned in the two months he’d been there. Pete talked about books—he was an avid reader. He talked about William Faulkner and F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Earnest Hemmingway. Sean had never read those books, but he was fascinated when Pete talked about them.
While they were talking and throwing back bar nuts, Sean noticed a dog sitting behind the bar. It was a golden retriever and he looked regal with his flowing golden hair and pointed snout.
Billy himself was working the bar that night. When he came over to Sean and Pete, Sean said, “Did you get a dog?”
“Huh?” Billy said. “Oh, that dog,” he said looking back at the golden retriever. “Somebody left him here. Left him tied up outside. What kind of son of a bitch does that?” Billy had a full head of black hair and a beard and mustache. His arms were covered in tattoos. Pete had told Sean that Billy was a biker who stopped off in McGinley’s Gap one day on a road trip and never left.
“I’m going to have to do something with that dog,” Billy said. “I like him and all, but I can’t really keep him in the bar and I don’t want to be responsible for an animal.”
Sean and Pete sat on their stools looking at the dog. The dog looked back. He looked so noble and sad all at the same time. How could someone have just left him like that? As he sat on his barstool, looking at the dog, Sean began to feel a connection to him. He didn’t understand it, but it was unmistakable. The dog’s soulful eyes spoke to Sean and reminded him of his childhood dog, Cody. Cody had been a German Shepherd and didn’t look anything like this dog, but they had the same eyes.
Sean walked behind the bar and let the dog sniff his hand to let him know he was a friend. He rubbed his head. He squatted down and looked at the dog. “Hey, boy,” he said. “You wanna go home with me?” The dog wagged his tail.
“Could I take him off your hands?” Sean said to Billy, who was leaning against the bar.
“Who?” Billy said setting the fresh mug of beer in front of Pete.
“This dog. Could I take him?” What was he doing? He didn’t even know if it was okay with Marty for him to get a dog and take it to the cabin.
“Oh,” Billy said. “Yeah, you can take him. He needs a good home.”
Pete said, “You know what you’re doing? You’re taking on a responsibility here.”
Sean walked from behind the bar and sat back down on his stool.
“I haven’t known what I’m doing for a while now,” Sean said looking at Pete.
Pete smiled. “Then it’s right,” he said. They laughed. Sean finished his beer and looked for Jesse. He saw him sitting in a booth with a young redhead. He caught his eye and held up his hand.
Jesse pried himself loose from the redhead and came over to the bar.
“You ready?” Sean asked.
“Not really. Are you ready?”
“Well, I’m going to be taking that dog home with us,” he said motioning to the golden retriever sitting behind the bar. “What do you think Marty will think about that?”
“I don’t think he’ll care,” Jesse said. “He’s got dogs himself. I think he loves dogs. But can we wait awhile longer before we leave? I’ve got something going over there.”
Sean looked at the young man, who in many ways mirrored himself. Sean’s hair had grown so long that Mario had insisted he wear a ponytail for safety reasons. He felt empathy for Jesse, a young man on the pr
owl, and said, “Yeah. Let’s wait a while. Cody’ll still be here when we leave.”
“Cody?” Jesse said. Sean realized he’d named the dog Cody, after his childhood dog.
“Yeah, the dog. I’m naming him Cody.”
Sean and Pete sat at the bar another hour, talking about books, the trail, cutting trees. Sean looked back at Jesse every now and then and the kid looked like he was having the time of his life. He was buying rounds of beer for the people at his booth. He definitely didn’t look like he was ready to leave.
A few minutes after the last time Sean looked at Jesse, he came over to the bar. “Rebecca says she can take me home. Sorry to hold you up.”
“That’s okay. I’ve been enjoying Pete’s company. But I do think I need to get Cody where he’s going.”
Sean paid his tab and went behind the bar to get Cody and the bag of dog food Billy had bought. Pete was standing by his barstool when Sean came back around.
“Guess I need to be leaving too. I’m not gettin’ any younger.”
They walked out together as Sean held the rope that was tied to Cody’s collar. He and Pete said goodnight and Sean put the dog in the old truck Marty let him use. Cody jumped into the seat and looked at Sean. “Let’s go,” he seemed to say.
And they went. Back to the cabin. Cody walked in, sniffing every corner. Sean lit a fire and settled on the couch. Cody eventually came over to him and lay down on the rug by the sofa. Sean scratched him behind the ears.
He knew he should get in touch with Marla, but that had been a hard thing to do. Every time he texted her and she texted back, he wanted to run to her. It was hard to keep doing what he knew he needed to do. If he heard her voice, he barely had the strength to stay the course. He loved her. He wanted her. He missed her. But he had to go to her with a free place in his heart just for Marla.
Cody slept on the floor by Sean’s bed that night and every night after that. Marty and his wife loved Cody and the dog spent the days up at the farmhouse while Sean worked. Then he went home with Sean to his cabin after supper. Sean had no idea who had owned Cody before—of course he didn’t—but he didn’t understand how anyone could have let him go.
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