As the Tide Comes In

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “People want to be comforting, and in their minds that’s an encouraging, hopeful thought.”

  “But it’s not. It’s equal to saying God did this, but—wink, wink, smile—He’s got a plan for something better that He wouldn’t have given you without this loss. What?” She thrust out her hands and screamed. “What?” She sat back. “It’s so wrong to preach that to me right now that I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “If it helps, it’s not intended to increase your grief. People want to encourage, and they’re trying to sum up God and the universe in simplistic terms that are helpful.”

  “And you? What do you believe?”

  “I shared the most important part when I said who Jesus is, but I believe God is love and we should walk in love. Oh, and when it comes to explaining the God equation to a hurting soul, never miss a good chance to shut up.”

  She laughed, and it echoed across the hot, humid inlet. “Not that you have an opinion or anything.”

  He chuckled, holding his index finger and thumb an inch apart. “Uh, maybe just a little.”

  She tapped the sides of the empty water bottle. They sat in silence until his phone rang. He ended the call and sent a text. She had no doubts that he was telling the Glynn Girls he’d connected with her. He just sat there with her, saying nothing else, and it seemed as if she could breathe again.

  “Why would God ask me to drop my life at eighteen and pick up theirs if He knew all my years of trying to fill them with love and hope and every type of learning and healthy foods and such wasn’t going to matter anyway? Their lives ended before they really began.”

  “It matters what condition a person lived and died in. Every crumb of love matters, and I’d dare say you gave a feast.”

  She could recall a thousand times she needed to be more patient, more understanding, more aware that life could end, and she couldn’t will her way out of it. “I was also picky and demanding and—”

  “And they died knowing you loved them, knowing you believed in them, knowing you wanted the best for them. They died with happiness, hope, and thankfulness in their hearts. Love did that, and you were love’s vessel.”

  Love’s vessel.

  She’d never thought of anyone like that, but she liked it. “Then they were a vessel to me too.”

  “No doubt.”

  “You believe in love a lot.”

  “I do. It’s the most real thing we come in contact with every day. I see it all the time. If love would not do anything cruel, Tara, God would not do it. God is love. It doesn’t have to be syrupy or sentimental, but it’s kind and patient. It protects and preserves, and it doesn’t fail.”

  “My love didn’t protect or preserve, and it clearly failed.”

  “No. Your love protected and preserved for as long as it was in your hands to do so. I saw the clip of Darryl’s valedictorian speech, and it’s clear that your love did not fail. The moment they went from this life to the next, God’s love met them without the necessary aid of a human vessel.”

  Could she at some point, maybe months from now, become a vessel of love again? The world was hurting, and it made sense why people did their best to come up with a God equation, whether it was fully right or not. But if people got the one big thing right—love—everything else was unimportant by comparison.

  No wonder grief overwhelmed her. She was a shattered vessel, and her love had poured out onto the sand. But she didn’t have to stay that way forever. Love was a living, growing, renewing thing. God was a potter, and she was here on earth, able to be a vessel again…someday.

  29

  Morning dew covered Gavin’s work boots as he walked the front part of Sapphira’s property with the land surveyor. Gavin swatted at a mosquito. “Like I said when we talked last month, my goal is to divide the one large lot into two lots, giving each an equal amount of road frontage if possible.”

  “That won’t be a problem. I called the planning-and-zoning department, and the good news is this property doesn’t have to abide by the new ordinances. It’s grandfathered in to the original zoning rights, and because it’s being passed to you through an inheritance, the original zoning laws pertain.” Tommy pulled a folded plat out of his jeans back pocket and opened it. “I studied this, and there’s a landlocked triangular piece of property at the back of the lot, to the side of the garden. It sits a little oddly, but I think that section is almost a fourth of an acre. Is your goal to make money or share the lots between relatives?”

  Gavin’s hopes picked up. “Make money.”

  “Then if you sold the piece closest to Fourteenth Street, call it Lot A, with a driveway easement to the triangular piece of property, you could divide this into thirds instead of halves. But the problem with that is you’d need to give ingress/egress easement through Lot A, and that would reduce its value, because it would mean less land, and the new owners would have to share the driveway with neighbors. Still, even with losing some of the profit from Lot A, having a third lot would be a bit more profitable.”

  Gavin studied the plat.

  Tommy folded it to show a smaller segment of the land. “The ideal solution would be if the fourth of an acre lot could tie its ingress/egress easement to the existing driveway that abuts the land that faces Thirteenth Street.” He pointed to it on the plat. “But people don’t easily sell rights to use part of their driveways.”

  “My mom owns the property that abuts the triangular piece of land.”

  “Then you may be all set.” He circled an area with his finger. “This is your mom’s land?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would she be willing to grant ingress/egress easement rights to her driveway?”

  “I’m pretty sure. Yeah.”

  “You check into that. It’ll take six to seven hours to survey this before I begin the office work on it. We should talk again before the crew and I leave for the day. If she’s willing, I can handle all of that with a quitclaim deed and her signature. Then I’ll record it at the courthouse.”

  Gavin held out his hand. “Thank you.”

  “It’s your land. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Yeah, but a third piece of property? I never considered that was possible.”

  “It’s hardly worth it unless you can attach easement rights to your mom’s driveway.”

  Surely Gavin could do that. He pulled out his phone and ran a Google search for what a small lot in this area would bring. He stared at the info until his lungs demanded he take a breath. If they could get an easement and therefore create a third lot, he might come within fifty to a hundred thousand dollars of paying back everything he owed. He could take out a new loan for that amount and pay off the entire balloon payment on his mom’s house and business equity and not have any remaining debt. He’d assumed all this time that best-case scenario was he’d have a certain amount of debt left over but it would be manageable.

  He loved his mom, but he really didn’t want to live with her while helping her make payments that were so high they’d have to live frugally for decades.

  A tinny sound of voices, laughter, and music caught his attention. Was that coming from Sapphira’s backyard? He went that way, opened the wooden gate attached to the hollow brick fencing, and saw the source of the noise. Tara was in an old Adirondack chair, under the shade of a live oak near the garden area where Sapphira’s property and his mom’s property met. A brass fire pit was sitting near her chair.

  Tara was engrossed in whatever was on the screen of her phone, but it sounded like footage of her and her brothers doing something. They hadn’t talked since their time on the beach two days ago. She was usually away from the house, on her bike, possibly avoiding the Glynn Girls and him. But he needed to let her know about the surveyors. They were unloading and setting up equipment now. It wouldn’t be long before they came around the corner, likely startling her.


  He strode toward her, memories flooding him. As a kid, he’d spent many a summer evening in this yard catching fireflies, running through the sprinkler, and poking the fire just to watch the sparks fly skyward. Sapphira hadn’t been a blood relative, but, nonetheless, she’d been his Saffy for as far back as he could remember, regardless of whether he called her Saffy or Sapphira.

  “You need a fire and the fixings for s’mores.”

  Tara looked up. “Start a fire now? It’s before eight and already nearing ninety.” She pressed something on her phone, and the noise stopped.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Best to wait until dark,”—he glanced at his wrist as if he had a watch—“which is only about twelve hours from now.” He sat.

  “Don’t you have demolition work you need to be doing?”

  Usually when he came within ten feet of her, she either left or invited him to do so. Still, he had a feeling if they’d met under better circumstances, they would’ve hit it off. Or maybe he just wanted to believe she would feel for him a little of what he felt for her if the circumstances were different.

  He brushed dirt off the arms of the chair. “I do, but I needed to let you know that three men are surveying the property today. You’ll see them within the hour, I think. I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m kind of excited. I got some good news.”

  “And you’re here because you need to tell someone and no one else will listen?”

  He suppressed the grin her words stirred. “Exactly. You’re it.”

  “That explains a lot about your pretending to be a roofer so I’d hang around.”

  His heart warmed at her newfound ability to voice humorous sarcasm, but he couldn’t laugh about anything to do with that time. Not yet. It felt disrespectful of all she was going through.

  “Yoo-hoo.” His mom waved from the back porch of her house. “We’re bringing coffee and food. Don’t go anywhere, either of you.”

  Gavin looked to Tara. How would she feel about that plan? He certainly had enough work to do that he could leave and let the womenfolk gab.

  “What are you looking at me for?” She raised her brows. “Oh, I get it.” Her eyes held a bit of amusement. “Fine. I’ll let you stay in your yard long enough to eat food your mom fixed. I’m nice that way.”

  He laughed and waved at his mom. “Okay.”

  “So why are they all off on a weekday morning?”

  “The shop doesn’t open until ten, and some days they have work to do there hours before it opens, and other days they leave here seven minutes before opening time and arrive three minutes early. But a heads-up about tomorrow. They’re taking off the whole day to pack up Sapphira’s art room.”

  “The Glynn Girls are growing on me. I was just curious why they were home. So what’s your good news, Gavin?”

  Was she doing as well as it seemed? He hoped so. Oh, how he’d prayed for her. She would grieve hard for years to come and to a painfully deep degree for the rest of her life, but hopefully it no longer had total control of her as it did during the first weeks. Being well enough to go through the motions of life while grieving was a necessary step in the right direction.

  “My news is that I just learned I should be able to get three lots out of Sapphira’s property instead of two.”

  “That is good news. Congratulations.” Tara looked at Sapphira’s house. “I still find it sad you’re tearing down that beautiful old home.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He interlaced his fingers. “But long story short, the Burnsides owe a lot of money.”

  “With the third piece of property, will the finances still be short?”

  “Depends on numerous things, but I’m guessing a little bit, yeah.” He figured probably fifty to a hundred thousand dollars short. But if that was all they still owed when everything was said and done, he could take out a new loan for that amount, and then he could once again afford a place of his own and help his mom make the monthly payment. When Tara first arrived, he’d been overly concerned about everything working out, but since then he’d been reminded that his troubles were just money. That’s it.

  She fidgeted with the casing on her phone. “You could let me rattle that developer’s cage and see what comes of it.”

  “I appreciate it, but I can’t.”

  “Because of my brain injury? If so, I’m better and clearer with each passing day. I even know not to do stupid things like claim a man’s house.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I am, but—”

  “Your loss.” She shrugged. “Literally.”

  Goodness. Whether chasing her down a dark beach, looking into lost eyes, or seeing her now—she was fascinating.

  His mamas were loud as they came out of the house and crossed the yard.

  “Coffee?” Sue Beth held out a tray of mugs to Tara and then to him. They each took one.

  Tara leaned in toward him. “You’re being ridiculously stubborn, Gavin.”

  His mom held out a tray with two plates, each with a bowl of grits and a bacon biscuit to the side. “I heard that.” His mom frowned, a hint of humor in her eyes. “Come on, Gavin, try to use the sense God gave you.” She turned to face Tara. “Don’t worry about him, sweetie. If he had an idea, it’d die of loneliness.”

  Luella set a tray on a small table beside a chair. “Why, he could throw himself on the ground and miss.” She winked at him.

  “He could what?” Tara laughed.

  “Oh, she’s lying like a dog.” Dell reached in and pinched Gavin’s cheek. “Some might say if his brains were leather, he wouldn’t have enough to saddle a june bug, but I know better.”

  The women were on a roll, clearly trying to entertain Tara at Gavin’s expense. He didn’t mind. But he needed to act as if he did, so he pursed his lips and shook his head. “And they say all of this without having a clue what’s at stake.”

  Tara ate several bites of grits, taking in more food in this one sitting than he’d seen her eat since he met her. She set the plate on a nearby coffee table.

  “Oh.” His mom blinked as she swallowed a mouthful of food. “I guess we did, didn’t we?” She made a shooing motion, as if that piece of info was unimportant. “But I have no doubt that Tara’s right and Gavin’s wrong.”

  Gavin swallowed a bite of food. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Oh, honey, anytime, just anytime at all.”

  “Regardless of what he’s done wrong, we can set it right through any means necessary,” Sue Beth chortled. “All y’all know that’s true.”

  Gavin shook his head and leaned toward Tara. “You do realize what you’ve started.”

  “I’m beginning to, yeah.” She sipped her coffee, looking rather smug about the whole thing. “But how was I supposed to know your mom’s hearing was that good?”

  “Well, whether you meant for your words to be heard or not, the real point is, Are you enjoying our banter about it?” Dell gave a high five to the air.

  “Yeah,” Gavin mocked. “Because if it opened up a line of insults for me and you enjoyed it, you probably just stumbled on the first step to becoming a Glynn Girl.”

  “Julep!” Dell said. “Tell me he did not just say that.”

  “Ohhh, son, you’re making us madder than a wet hen, and one of us is likely to cream your corn,” Sue Beth said.

  They laid on the Southern sayings, and their accents grew thicker with each passing minute.

  Tara leaned toward him. “Maybe having four mamas is a tad taxing.”

  “Only Sunday through Saturday.” Gavin took a sip of his coffee.

  “Gavin!” All four of them yelled at him, gasping as though he’d broken a commandment in front of the preacher.

  “Ladies.” Tara spoke softly, and the group settled down. “Who has the phone number of the man who sent someone to pay for and get the shiplap but stole it in
stead?”

  “I do.” Sue Beth raised her hand. “But, honey, we talked about this.”

  Tara’s eyes met his, and he saw clarity and strength, and standing against her suddenly seemed wrong.

  “Great,” he mumbled. “Just what I needed.” He raked his hands through his hair. “For all five of you to push me around.” But he was amused. “Okay. Contact him. But you don’t give your name or any personal information.”

  “You mean like your house address?” Sue Beth asked. “The place he’s already robbed.”

  The women chuckled.

  “Hey.” Tara held up one hand. “Come on, now. Be nice…at least until I get my way.”

  His mamas chortled.

  Gavin suppressed a grin and mocked a sigh before getting serious. “Watch what info you share, Tara. And you send the picture to my phone. That way he won’t get your phone number. Your complaint to him won’t look as legit that way, but I’m not willing to do it any other way.”

  His phone pinged with the image Tara had sent. Gavin saved the picture and attached it to a text to the man. Then he passed his phone to Tara. “It’s all yours.”

  She smiled, typed a message, and sent it and the image to Roy Ashe. Gavin couldn’t make out all the words, but he knew she briefly explained what had happened that night. Then she waited.

  The six of them ate and chatted.

  “Tomorrow’s the big day.” His mom’s smile was sad.

  “Because you’re packing up Sapphira’s art room?” Tara asked.

  “It’s the day I go to the lawyer’s, and the house I’m taking apart officially becomes mine.”

  Tara’s eyes grew wide. “You’ve been demolishing and selling parts of a home that doesn’t belong to any of you?”

  “It’s mine. No doubt. But I started the work before the legalities were complete because the money I owe is due soon. I have a work crew coming tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll remove all the brick as carefully as possible.” Gavin hoped this news didn’t bother Tara.