Somewhere by the Sea

by Verna Clay

  Faith returned after a few minutes with the flowers in a vase and set it on her fireplace mantle. "I found the living room ensemble at Chip's Furniture on Third Street and I've ordered a coffee and end tables from him."

  Baxter tried to swallow the lump in his throat. When he considered his behavior toward this soft-spoken, beautiful woman who had suffered so much, he felt appalled. As far as he was concerned, she could believe she was talking to a dead boy and it wouldn't change the love he felt for her. "Your home is beautiful, Faith." He wanted to add, And I've fallen in love with you, but said instead, "May I walk outside?"

  "Oh, yes! I wanted an ocean view and Doris and Dave delivered magnificently."

  He opened the slider and stepped onto the patio. Faith followed and motioned to the outdoor furniture and they sat and gazed at the scene below—aqua ocean, sunbathers, colorful beach umbrellas, a few cars driving along Ocean Boulevard, and pedestrians walking the portion of Main Street visible from the house.

  Baxter was about to break the silence when the back door to the house behind Faith's burst open and Darren and Dirk rushed outside. He glanced at Faith and she seemed to read his mind. She smiled slightly. "At first I talked myself out of buying this home because the boys reminded me so much of my own son, but gradually, since coming to Somewhere, something in me shifted, and in a moment of clarity I knew this was the home I was supposed to live in. It's still difficult at times hearing the boys play, but it's getting better." She bit her bottom lip and then confided, "And I have you to thank for that. Opening up to you and sharing my pain made me realize I could begin a new life."

  Baxter felt his heart expand and reached to hold Faith's hand. "I'm so happy to hear that." He saw her eyes well with tears and quickly said, "Are you ready to see Stone House restored?"

  She regained her composure. "I sure am."

  As they walked to his car he said, "I ordered dinner from Seafood Heaven and it's waiting for us at Stone House. I know how much you like shrimp, so I ordered shrimp spaghetti." He grinned mischievously. "We can try heating it on the stove that's also been restored." He chuckled. "Or the microwave."

  Faith laughed. "Have you tried out the stove yet?"

  He winced. "Maybe we'll use the microwave tonight and experiment with the stove another time."

  Baxter drove to the B & B and parked in his reserved space. He said, "My mother is at her church preparing for a crafts fair and Jennie and James are at Costco in Brookings, so let's just head to Stone House."

  "Sounds like a plan. But who's overseeing the B & B?"

  "We're down to four guests and they all decided to drive to Gold Beach for the evening. Mabel said she still had some chores to finish so she offered to stay until my mother returned."

  They exited the car and he punched his fob to lock it. Then he held Faith's elbow as he guided her to the sidewalk and crosswalk. Within minutes they had crossed the B & B's private beach and entered the coolness beneath the evergreens. Their stroll along the trail was melodic with birdsong, and sunlight filtering through the trees created crisscross patterns on the ground. Tangy sea air tickled their noses. Faith didn't say much and neither did he. Disturbing the sights and sounds of nature seemed irreverent.

  When they arrived at Stone House, Faith walked to the edge of the bluff and turned around. With an expansive motion encompassing the house she exclaimed, "Your home is magnificent! I think your ancestors would be very proud of you."

  Baxter had remained on the porch and now leaned against one of the new log posts. He watched the play of light on Faith's auburn hair and in a spontaneous gesture, opened his arms. For a moment she appeared puzzled by his action, but then understanding beamed across her countenance and she ran into his arms. He whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry, Faith. Forgive me." And then he was kissing her.

  Faith refused to analyze her actions because, for the first time in three years, she felt intact. She felt protected from the sorrow that had plagued her since the death of her family. She felt that once again she could live a happy life. But just as important, she knew she could give her heart to Baxter. Dinner was forgotten as he whispered words of love and then acted on those words by carrying her to the bedroom. Later he left the bed to light an oil lantern, but quickly returned to pull her back into his embrace. "I guess we'll have to spend the night at Stone House since it's too late to walk back."

  Faith could feel him smile against her neck and she moved her mouth to whisper in his ear, "What do you think we should do until then?"

  "I think we should perfect what we just did. You know the old adage—practice makes perfect."

  "I thought it was perfect."

  "Oh, baby, I love the way you talk. It was definitely a ten, but I think we should go for eleven and then twelve, and then–"

  Faith placed her lips on his. "How about we don't set a limit?"

  Baxter made a growling sound. "I also love the way you think."

  Later, Faith woke with her head resting on Baxter's shoulder and sighed with contentment. Her stomach growled and she decided to wake him and suggest they eat. She was about to say his name when she heard a voice.

  "Rex! Rex!"

  She inhaled sharply and found herself silently praying. Please, God, no! I don't want to ruin my reunion with Baxter!

  "Rex!" The child's voice was louder than before and she jumped upright. Her movement woke Baxter and he said groggily, "What is it, baby?"

  When she didn't respond he sounded more awake when he said, "Is something wrong?"

  When she still didn't respond he sat up. "Faith, what is it?"

  In a frightened voice she rasped, "I heard Owen again. I heard him calling for Rex."

  Instantly, he encircled her with his arms, pulling her into the protection of his body. She knew he was waiting to hear the voice as she shivered against him. There was only silence.

  "Rex!"

  Baxter exclaimed, "What the–"

  "Rex! Come here boy!" There was a dog's bark in response.

  Faith pushed away from Baxter. "You hear them?"

  He jumped out of bed, pulled on his pants that were slung over a chair, and grabbed the lantern. "I sure as hell do and I'm going to get to the bottom of this nonsense. Stay here, Faith."

  33: Truth

  Before opening the door to the cabin, Baxter dimmed the lantern and shifted the curtain in the window next to the door to peer outside. He couldn't see anything because of the reflection, but heard a dog bark again, which electrified the hair on his arms. Then he got really angry, grabbed the lantern, and stormed out of the house, shouting, "Hey, you! I don't know what you're trying to accomplish by pretending to be a boy whose been dead for two decades, but I'm about to find out!"

  "Hi, Bax," said a child's voice not far away. Baxter jumped and jerked in the direction of the voice. On the southern edge of the porch about twelve feet away, in the muted light cast by the lantern, stood Baxter's childhood friend, or at least someone who looked exactly like him, and a big red collie. The child knelt, picked up a Frisbee, and tossed it into the darkness of the yard. The dog yipped and ran after it.

  Baxter quelled a strangled cry and demanded, "Who are you?"

  The child replied, "I've waited a long time for you to hear me."

  Baxter again vocalized his demand. "Who are you and who put you up to this?"

  The child lowered himself Indian style onto the porch and placed his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms. "Remember when we used to pretend to be Indians and camp out in the teepee your dad bought?"

  Baxter took a step closer and then glanced across the yard calling out, "If anyone's hiding out there, you better step forward and tell me why you've put this kid up to this."

  The only answer was the bark of the dog.

  Baxter returned his gaze to the boy and took another step closer. The child was the exact image of Owen. "Explain yourself."

  The boy heaved a heartfelt sigh. "What I've been trying to tell you since the accident is that
I want my sister to know my death wasn't her fault. Tell Vee she isn't to blame."

  Baxter decided to play along with the game. "Why don't you just tell her yourself?"

  "Because things don't work like that. It would certainly make everything easier, but there's a purpose to the universe that cannot be changed. I guess you could say God wants to do things a certain way 'cause it's important. That's all I really know. Maybe I'll know the answer to your question when I walk into the light. But I won't go there until you believe me."

  Baxter took another step closer and continued the game. "So why haven't I heard from you before now?"

  "Because you needed Faith."

  "I needed faith to believe or Faith the woman?"

  The boy grinned. "Both."

  Baxter glanced into the yard looking for an accomplice, but saw no one. "Why would I need Faith the woman to allow me to see you?"

  The child shrugged. "Beats me. When she saw Rex on the beach I was shocked. I'm always on the beach hoping someone will see us, like that other lady who stayed at the B & B. She knew we were there, but ignored us. I kept bugging her until she listened. She was nice and not after money like those phony psychics, but you were mean to her. After she left, I figured I'd always be in Somewhere, but then Faith saw me and I got hopeful again. And now here we are talking. It's a miracle."

  Changing his tactic, Baxter said, "Why should I tell your sister your death wasn't her fault. No one ever blamed her."

  "No, but she blamed herself. Still does. You see, she got mad at me and threw the Frisbee into the ocean. Rex went in after it and I followed him into the waves. She thinks I drowned because of that, but she's wrong. Rex got the Frisbee and we both got out of the water. Later, we followed the path to Stone House and I climbed down the rocks to the beach. My parents always warned me not to go there, but I disobeyed them this one time, and, well, paid the price. I tossed the Frisbee into the water and Rex got caught in an undertow. And when I tried to save him…" The boy locked his gaze with Baxter's. "…we both drowned."

  Baxter's heart hammered at the likeness of this child to Owen. He crouched to the boy's level. "You expect me to believe that?"

  "Of course. And when you tell my sister what I've told you, you'll both know it's really me."

  They were interrupted when Rex bounded onto the porch with the Frisbee in his mouth. A sound from the doorway distracted Baxter and he turned to see Faith staring at them in disbelief. He stood to block her view of the boy because he didn't want her more upset than she already was, but when he turned back around to grab the child by the scruff of his neck and haul him inside the cabin…

  He was gone!

  From beyond the shadows the child called out, "Tell Vee I'm sorry for reading her diary. And just so you know it's me, thanks for never telling anyone I egged Mr. Swift's car or that you were the one who wrote the love note to Annie for me."

  34: Lighthouse

  Lifting her paintbrush to the fourth and last painting Michael Wainwright had commissioned, Vicky signed her signature as Vee and stepped back. The scene was beautiful, even if she said so herself. In fact, she was extremely pleased with the way all the acrylic renditions of everyday life in Somewhere, both now and in the past, had turned out. This painting, however, was different because it was an ocean sunset, as requested by Michael. The colors were primarily orange and red, with splashes of yellow, and she'd actually painted the scene from atop Hope Hill. When she'd first started the project, she'd driven to the lookout and set up her easel with the intent of sketching the panorama and finishing it at home, however, the beauty had been such that she'd returned for a week and spent only today finishing it in her sitting room.

  She gazed around the room at the rest of the commissioned artwork leaning against the walls and sighed. Again, she was reminded of how much she loved to paint. She started cleaning her brushes, but was interrupted when she heard the doorbell ring. Since Faith often stopped by on Sunday afternoons, she assumed it was probably her. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried from her third floor suite and rushed downstairs. She was excited for Faith to see her finished sunset.

  She reached the front door and peered through the peephole. It wasn't Faith. It was Michael Wainwright!

  Smoothing a hand over her hair and sighing because she looked like hell, she cracked the door and then realized how rude that was. Opening the door wide, she said, "Hello, Mr. Wainwright."

  He cocked his head to one side and grinned. "Michael, please."

  His grin was so engaging that she returned it with a wide one of her own. "Michael, please come in." He surprised her when he said, "I was headed out for a drive along the coastline and wondered if you'd join me."

  Vicky hadn't been asked to go anywhere with a man in years. "Ah, ah, how long would we be gone?"

  "However long you want."

  She felt herself blushing. "Um, that sounds nice."

  His grin widened. "I was hoping you could point out some of the attractions outside of Somewhere. I hear there's a lighthouse about twenty miles away."

  "Yes. It's lovely. I'd love to go there." She hesitated and said shyly, "I just finished the last painting."

  Michael looked ecstatic. "May I see them?"

  "Of course. But you'll have to follow me to the third floor." As she led the way upstairs she marveled at her trust in this man. Normally, she would have shied away from bringing a man upstairs, but in her heart she knew Michael was a good person. She opened the door to her sitting room and stepped inside. He followed and she motioned toward the easel. Biting her lip in nervousness she waited for his response. When he exclaimed, "I knew you had an exceptional talent when I first saw your paintings!" her heart sang. He stepped closer. "I absolutely love it!" He moved his gaze to the other acrylics, stepping in front of each one in turn. When he reached the last one he said, "Every painting is pure genius."

  Vicky was so pleased by his admiration that she placed a hand over her heart and said breathlessly, "Thank you for your kind words."

  Michael turned to face her. "Have you ever had an art exhibition exclusively for your paintings?"

  She felt flustered. "No. I've never considered myself that good."

  "Well you should. Why don't you think about it? I know several influential people in the art world."

  Mortified, she replied, "Oh, I don't think so. The first criticism would send me into tears."

  Michael's expression softened. "And anyone who criticized would come into contact with my wrath." For a long moment he studied her face and then said cheerily, "There's no pressure. If you change your mind, just let me know and I'll get the ball rolling. Now, how long do you need to get ready? Should I wait downstairs or come back later?"

  "It'll take me about twenty minutes. You can wait in the parlor if you like."

  After Michael headed downstairs, Vicky entered her bathroom and gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. She had orange and red paint streaks on both cheeks.

  At Cape Blanco in Cape Blanco State Park, Michael watched Vicky while listening to her history lesson. Her unassuming manner and shy smile wasn't something he was accustomed to. In his world of high finance, real estate deals, and schmoozing, she was a refreshing change.

  Scanning a brochure she read, "The lighthouse was built in 1870 to warn mariners away from the reefs extending from the cape, and it stands on the farthest westerly point of the Oregon Coast, jutting one-and-a-half miles into the Pacific Ocean. The white cliffs are 200 feet high and were named by Spanish explorers."

  Michael enjoyed listening to Vicky's condensed version of the history of the lighthouse, not only because it was so interesting, but because she enjoyed telling him. Her eyes came alive when she shared historical facts, which was something he'd noticed at the museum.

  She said, "And the lighthouse is still in operation."

  They left the interior of the structure and walked to the cliff's edge. Gazing across the sparkling ocean he said, "Vicky, have you ever painted a ligh
thouse?"

  "No. Although I've considered doing so."

  He waved a hand outwardly encompassing the blue expanse. "Can you imagine a ship lost at sea in the blackest of nights and a desperate crew suddenly coming upon this beacon of hope?" He felt Vicky's gaze and turned toward her.

  Rather than answer his question she said, "Why is the ship lost? Was it a storm? Bad navigation?"

  He sensed something deep in her question and smiled slightly. "How about both? First a storm took them off course and then in trying to correct their direction, they made things worse."

  She glanced back out to sea and mused, "So even though they made bad decisions trying to get back on course, they were still saved."

  "Precisely."

  After a moment she said, "It would be a wonderful painting."

  35: Fault

  Reclining on her sofa, Vicky rehashed her day with Michael. He was a wonderful man and their visit to the lighthouse was something she would cherish.

  Because of the scene evoked by Michael's words, she had privately decided to paint a lighthouse. The painting, however, would be more than just a ship and a lighthouse. Its very essence would be navigating the reefs of life to find haven in the midst of sorrow. Already she was planning to return to the site so she could paint under the presence of the lighthouse.

  A tear trickled down her cheek because she knew the painting was for her. It was her way of navigating back into the stream of life. She would begin anew by using her paintbrush to stroke away the guilt that had consumed her since her brother's death. Another tear trickled and she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Owen."