“But since I’m asking you now …”
She sighed. “Well, yes. Recently things have changed. He’s shown up again, much to my surprise.”
“And he’s … where now?”
“At home.”
Wyatt pushed further, a teasing edge to his tone. “Whose home?”
She pictured Chase, sitting on her loveseat the morning she’d left. She still thought about it as her home, and yet he was there now, and she wasn’t. She had assured both her mother and Max that he was doing her a favor by staying there. House-sitting, she’d called it.
“My home,” she answered. “He’s been sort of … staying there. But on the couch,” she hurried to add. She looked over at Wyatt, who had stopped painting and was looking at her.
“So why are you here with me if he’s there?”
She laid the roller back in the paint tray and met his eyes. “I don’t know. Everything’s happened so fast and … you just don’t understand. My life was great a few months ago. Well, not great, but … predictable. I had Emma and my mom and Max, and I could manage it all. Then Chase came back, and we came here, and I prayed a crazy prayer, and everything’s gone haywire.”
Wyatt chuckled, his smile a welcome relief. “My grandmother always did say to be careful what you pray for.”
“Well, I wish your grandmother could’ve given me that piece of advice before last Friday night.”
“Mind if I ask what you prayed for?”
She shook her head. “Uhhh … I’m not really ready to talk about it. Not yet.”
“Is that why you’re spending time with Pastor Nate?”
She blanched. “Are you spying on me?”
Though they had both been doing a good job at keeping their tone light, she did wonder how he knew so much about her.
“Buzz is my dad, remember? Whatever I miss, he usually feels obliged to fill me in on.”
“Nate’s a nice guy. And …” She couldn’t think of what to say next. I’m attracted to him? He looks at me in a way that makes me think he knows me better than I think he does … kind of the same way you do? And I suspect that one of you may be the mystery artist I’ve been looking for the majority of my life?
“I’m just trying to understand you, Macy. You’ve got a guy at home and—best I can tell—two guys here.”
Macy could feel her blood pumping as she decided what to say in response. Two guys? she thought, pressing her lips together to refrain from smiling. “I’m just here to have fun, to relax. That’s all. It’s the beach. A vacation. I’m not looking for a lifelong commitment here.” As she said it, she wondered if her statement was even true. On one level, yes. But if one of them turned out to be the artist, she would want to see where it went beyond this vacation.
“That’s fair,” Wyatt said, squinting up at the corner he was painting with his small brush. “But getting back to Emma’s father — “
“His name is Chase.”
Wyatt dropped the paintbrush into the bucket and walked over to the refrigerator, talking as he walked. “Ah, yes. Chase. What does he think is going on here at Sunset Beach?”
“He doesn’t think anything. I mean, it’s none of his business.” Macy raised her voice so he could hear her over the sound of the ice dispenser dropping ice cubes into cups.
“But he’s in your house, obviously hoping you come back to … him?” Wyatt walked back holding two glasses of water. He handed one to her. She took a sip, thinking of the calls from Chase she’d ignored since they’d been there. At some point she’d have to answer and find out what he wanted to tell her.
“Look, Chase left me. He was gone for five years. Then he just showed back up and I—” She tried to think of the right words to explain what happened when Chase showed up. “I—” She tried again. And then the words suddenly came to her. “I didn’t know how to tell him I wasn’t interested in him anymore. I felt like I had to give him a chance. For Emma. She deserves to have her father in her life.”
“So he’s there because you’re too afraid to tell him it’s over?”
“I just wanted to be sure it is over.”
“I think you need to make a clean break. Strike out on your own. You don’t need Chase to be your safety net.” He sounded just like Avis.
Macy clenched her jaw, pushing aside the urge to drop the roller and stomp out of the house. That would only affirm what she feared —that she didn’t face the hard things in life. “Chase is not my, quote, ‘safety net,’ unquote. He’s someone I have a history with.”
“And you’re seriously thinking there might be a future with him?”
“I did.”
He put his water glass down, his eyes boring into hers. “Did?”
“Yes.”
“What changed?”
She looked down at her feet. A drop of paint had dried on her left foot, and she rubbed at the spot with the big toe of her right foot. “This trip.”
“Can I give you a piece of advice?” Wyatt asked, his voice softening. He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Cut Chase loose. Tell him it’s over.” He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. “Take a risk.”
She smiled. “You don’t know who you’re talking to. You hardly know me. If you did, you’d know I’m not a big risk taker.”
He winked. “I know you better than you think I do.”
Later that night, Macy would lie in bed and stare at the guest book as it lay illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. She would wonder why she hadn’t just come out and asked Wyatt how he knew her so well. And whether a certain guest book had anything to do with it. But in this moment, she couldn’t make herself ask. Later she would wonder if it was because she simply didn’t want to know yet, because the truth was, she was having fun being pursued by both Nate and Wyatt. And not knowing was fun.
“Say” by John Mayer came on. Wyatt laid his brush across the paint can and strode over to the old boom box that had probably been around back when they used to come to Sunset Beach ten years ago. He cranked up the volume and began to sing along.
Macy listened to the words of the song and tried not to stare. During the ukulele solo, Wyatt picked up a paintbrush and pretended to play it. Macy laughed. And when the song ended, he dipped his brush back into the paint and resumed his work as if the musical interlude hadn’t just happened.
She went over and turned the music back down a bit, feeling as though he’d just let her see a side of him that few ever saw. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Her mother’s voice chided her for thinking like this about Wyatt so soon after her date with Nate. So she moved over to paint the wall with their names. She could feel him watching as the paint covered his handiwork. But neither of them said a word.
seventeen
That young man from art camp asked about you today when I picked up Emma,” Macy’s mother said that night at dinner. Max, who had been watching TV and picking at his dinner, suddenly looked interested. Macy looked down at her plate to avoid their eyes. She couldn’t explain what was happening either. She’d said a prayer on the beach, and suddenly her life’s theme song was “It’s Raining Men.”
Max balled up his napkin and threw it onto the table. It bounced and landed on Macy’s plate. She fished it out of her ketchup and made a face at him.
“What young man, Mom?” Max asked. “Since Macy doesn’t seem to want to know who you’re referring to.”
“There’s a nice young volunteer at Emma’s day camp. He’s really good with children, and he’s well-liked around here, Buzz says. His name’s Dockery Caldwell. Macy met him yesterday, but she didn’t go back today.” Her mother paused long enough to catch Macy’s eye. “He noticed your absence and asked after you.”
“Mom, are you seriously suggesting that I make some sort of play for this volunteer? I went on a date with Pastor Nate, and I’ve spent time with Buzz’s son. I think that’s quite enough for one trip, don’t you?” Macy laughed and stood up, picking up hers and Emma’s p
lates and going around the kitchen island to put them in the sink.
“Hey, I wasn’t done with my French fries!” Emma hollered.
Macy looked down at the one lone French fry on the plate. “Yes, you were!” she yelled back.
She heard Max offer to share his remaining fries with Emma. Typical. It would be a miracle if Emma didn’t turn out ruined from all the spoiling she got from the adults in her life. Macy smiled at the thought. There were worse things in life than to be loved that much.
Brenda came to stand beside her as Macy scraped the plates into the disposal and let the water carry the mess away. Before Brenda could speak, she turned on the disposal and let the grinding noise fill the silence. Not to be deterred, Brenda waited until Macy had no choice but to shut the empty disposal off.
“I just think you should be nice to him. I mean, he just wants to talk to you. And Buzz thinks very highly of him,” she added.
“So you’ve said,” Macy answered, placing the rinsed dishes in the dishwasher and closing it with a bang. “Buzz also thinks highly of his son, I would imagine.” She turned around to face her mother. “But I’m not the only woman with men pursuing her this trip, am I? What’s up with you and Buzz?” Macy had promised herself she would let whatever was going on between the two of them just play out, but she grasped at the first straw that presented itself in order to change the subject. She nearly retracted the question before she realized her mom was smiling as she began to answer.
“We’ve been spending some time together, and … it’s been nice. I had … forgotten how nice it can be just to have someone around. A man to share things with.” Her mother’s smile grew bigger as she spoke.
Macy studied her mother for a moment. “And is this something that’s going to go beyond this trip? Have y’all talked about this?”
Brenda threw her hands up. “Hey, we’re just having a good time!” she exclaimed. “Neither one of us wants to put a label on it.”
Macy grinned. “You sound like a kid, Mom.”
Brenda did a little twirl right there in the kitchen, her arms still raised. “I feel like a kid!” she said, giggling.
From the doorway, she heard Max’s voice and turned to see him there with his mouth open. “Do I even want to know?” he asked.
Macy laughed. “No. You do not want to know. Trust me.” Their mom started laughing in earnest and so did Macy. Hearing the chaos in the kitchen, Emma scampered in to join them, laughing with them even though she had no idea what was going on.
“I’m going to leave you crazy women to yourselves,” Max said.
It was only after they had stopped laughing and finished the rest of the dishes that Macy thought to wonder where he had gone in such a hurry and how he’d found transportation. Her stomach rumbled with worry as darkness fell. I am not my brother’s keeper, she told herself.
“How about we all pile into my bed and watch a movie?” her mother asked.
“Yay!” Emma cheered. “Movie! Movie! Movie!” she chanted as she did a lap around the kitchen, pumping her fist in the air.
Macy’s mother took out the large pot they used to make popcorn on the stove. Macy was glad to see it was still here after all these years. Her mother caught her eye, and she knew they were both thinking of her dad throwing the popcorn into the air and catching it with his mouth while they all laughed and applauded. They both looked away and blinked their eyes. There had been a lot of moments like this on the trip—memories popping up that were both painful and healing, like immersing a wound in water.
“Popcorn?” Brenda asked as she poured a layer of oil in the pan.
Macy heard Emma, who’d moved into the den, change her chant from “Movie!” to “Popcorn!”
“Sounds like a yes to me!” she said.
Her mother didn’t turn from the pan. “Tomorrow, I want you to be the one to pick Emma up from art camp, okay?”
Macy put her hands on her hips and dropped her head, knowing when she was beat. “Ooookaaay.” She sighed, sounding like the teenager she used to be when last she’d stood in this kitchen.
Brenda looked over at her. “I need you to do it anyway. Buzz would like to take me on a little adventure on the high seas in the morning.”
“Mom,” Macy said. “You’re incorrigible.”
Macy could hear the smile in her mother’s voice when she turned to watch the oil heating in the pot. “That’s me, all right,” Brenda said. “Being incorrigible feels pretty good.”
Macy grinned to herself as she left the room to find a family-friendly video to watch with her mom and daughter, the two women she loved best in the world. She went to her room to riffle through the movies she’d brought with them. Her phone vibrated on the dresser as she was digging through the suitcase, and with a sigh, she leaned over to grab it to see who was calling. It stopped ringing just before she picked it up.
She stared down at the Missed Call alert on the screen and then closed her eyes as she listened to the voices in the den: Emma’s excited one, her mom’s sweet one. She wanted to run out there and add her voice to the mix, pretend she had never seen the call and be absolved of her responsibility to call back. But she’d put it off long enough.
She held the phone in her hand for a moment longer, then pressed the button that dialed his number and hoped he wouldn’t answer so she could go on with her night. But of course he did.
“Yeah, Chase? Saw I missed a call from you.”
He paused. “I was about to step out for the night, so I’m glad you caught me.”
“Oh, that’s good.” She looked around the room, wishing she could be done with the conversation already.
“I actually called to tell you I’ve got some news.”
“Yeah?”
“I talked to my brother after you left the other day. Told him things weren’t working out between us — “
“I didn’t say that!”
She could hear his wry smile come through the phone. “You didn’t have to. So anyway, he’d told me that he had a friend who needed someone to work in IT for them. And he put me in touch with his friend, and it’s all happened quickly, but if I want the job, they say it’s mine. I just gotta get out there.”
“Out where?” Her heart sank as she thought about explaining to Emma that her daddy was leaving. Again. She thought of that night in the tent with Emma between them holding both their hands; of the dinners they’d had with each other around the tiny table that, though it hadn’t held more than two people before, had somehow expanded to hold three; of the way Emma had begged for Chase to come with them to the beach and how she—the mean mommy—had said no.
“Denver, Colorado.”
“Wow. That’s … out there,” was all she could manage to say.
“It’s a good job, Mace.”
“Good enough to take you away from your daughter again?” she challenged. Even if there was no future for Macy and Chase together, she still wanted Emma to have him in her life.
“Good enough that I’ll have the money to fly back to see her relatively often and to fly her out to see me when she’s older. She’ll love it out there. Denver is a beautiful place, you know.”
“So I hear.”
“You’re not seriously mad about this, are you?”
“No. I just — “ She sighed. “I just thought I’d have more time to figure everything out before you forced my hand.”
“I’m not forcing anything, Macy. I’m letting you go. Because I’m afraid if I don’t, you won’t be able to move on.”
“But I —”
“Macy, I think that if I stayed, you’d settle for me. Because you feel obligated. But we both know that’s not a good reason. And I’m sorry. For ruining what we had once by taking off. I was a stupid kid who ran away.”
Macy didn’t want to cover that emotional ground again. She sighed. “How soon do you leave?”
“Haven’t worked all that out yet. But it’ll be soon.”
“Wow.” Wyatt’s advice to her
earlier that day had been timely. It was time to break free from Chase, time to move on.
“You know, Macy, I’ve thought a lot about what you said as you were leaving,” Chase said. “And I have a piece of advice for you. That little girl you talked about? The one who used to be fun? The one you said I never got a chance to know?”
Macy felt her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment when he brought up her comment. She was grateful he wasn’t standing in front of her. “Yes.”
“Find someone who recognizes her when he looks at you. You think you can do that?”
She looked up to see Brenda standing in her doorway with a broad grin, holding a two-liter of root beer and a carton of vanilla ice cream. Emma danced behind her.
“Come on, Mommy!” Emma shouted.
Macy held up a finger, and Brenda disappeared with Emma following behind, her eyes on the ice cream.
“Yeah,” she told Chase. “I think I can do that.” As she said it, she thought of Nate and Wyatt and—strangely enough—her mother’s mention of Dockery. She’d prayed for one man to come into her life, and it seemed God had sent three.
“Macy,” Chase said, “I’ve gotta go. I’ve got some people waiting on me. And it sounds like you do too.”
“So I’ll see you when we get back?”
“Yeah. For sure. See you then. Now go have fun.”
She ended the call and sat motionless on the bed for just a moment, thinking of his challenge for her to find someone who would recognize the little girl who still lived inside her, the little girl who had started drawing pictures in a guest book. To go forward, she had to resolve her past. Chase was wiser than he knew.
The sound of her daughter’s laughter interrupted her thoughts, and she realized the only thing she had to resolve at that moment was whether she wanted a Coke float or a root beer float. It was a good place to start the rest of her life.
eighteen
The hall of the Ocean Isle Community Center was once again filled with children darting through the hallway like pinballs. After the third one bumped into her, Macy stopped trying to avoid them, fixing her eyes on Emma’s room and hoping she could collect her child, politely wave at Dockery, and break away with minimal fuss. Instead she found Emma hanging off Dockery’s arm like he was a tree branch and she was a swing. Macy shook her head at the sight. She didn’t know if it was Chase’s prolonged absence, Max’s overattentiveness, or simply her child’s personality, but her daughter loved men. Macy longed to give Emma a father figure who would be there for her every day and not just sometimes.
The Guest Book Page 14
