by Gayle Roper
“You mean it?” Ted’s heart beat fast.
Clooney shrugged. “Sure. Maybe there’s another Rolex just waiting for you.”
“Or the other diamond stud.” Ted climbed off the chaise. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning. He grinned. “What’s the best depth to find the really good stuff?”
Clooney thought a minute. “Anything that’s here has been here at least since last fall, so it’s pretty deep.” He suggested a depth, and Ted programmed it into the machine. He pushed the setting for coins.
“Close to the sand but don’t touch it,” Clooney instructed. “Swing it slowly back and forth.”
Ted followed Clooney’s directions. Almost immediately a red light began blinking in the corner. It disappeared before Ted could react to it. He moved the detector back until the light appeared again. Clooney handed him the little red spade.
Ted knelt in the soft sand and began to dig. He pulled a string of seaweed from the hole and beneath it lay a small, clear plastic change purse. Ted lifted it free and poured $3.57 into his palm. He looked at Clooney and laughed.
“I feel like I’ve found Captain Kidd’s treasure.”
He put the money back in the purse and stuffed it in his pocket. He began waving the detector again. In the next fifteen minutes, he acquired three quarters, four dimes, and two nickels, raising his total to $4.82.
“I’m rich!” With a huge grin he reprogrammed the machine for gold. “Now I’m going to find something really valuable. I can just feel it.”
Clooney shook his head. “I’ve created a monster,” he muttered. “Next thing I know you’ll be over at the casinos. ‘I’m going to win this hand. I can feel it.’ ”
It took much longer to get any response from the detector on this setting, but Ted’s enthusiasm didn’t dim. He hadn’t had so much fun in ages.
Suddenly the light blinked. Clooney handed over the spade and held the machine. Ted dug until he bumped into a sand-encrusted lump. He pulled it out and held it in his palm for Clooney to see.
“Nasty looking mess,” Ted said.
Clooney poked at it with a finger. Particles of sand fell away, revealing a glint of gold. “Rinse it in the surf.”
Ted nodded and walked to the water’s edge. He bent and swished his closed hand in the chill water. He stepped back just as a little wave broke over his foot. He opened his hand. Most of the sand had been washed away, and resting in his palm was a deeply inscribed gold cross.
“The nice thing about gold,” said Clooney as he peered over Ted’s shoulder, “is that the seawater doesn’t corrode it like it does silver.”
Ted reached down and swished his hand in the water some more. When he checked his booty this time, the cross was clear of sand. It sat in his hand, gleaming in the sun. “It must be two inches high and over an inch wide.” There was awe in his voice. “It’s beautiful.”
Clooney made a disgusted noise in his throat. “How’d I work this beach so often and miss that?”
Ted held it out to him, knowing he’d scream if Clooney actually took it from him.
“Nah.” Clooney shook his head. “Finders keepers and all that stuff.”
“You’re sure?” Ted tried to be nonchalant about keeping his treasure, but he was certain he failed.
“Yeah, I’m sure. By the way, I thought you were supposed to be really sick.”
“I am. I’m dying.”
“Yeah, right. You’re skinny as a skeleton, but otherwise I hope I look as good as you when I die.” With a wave, Clooney turned away, swinging his detector back and forth across the sand.
Thoughtfully, Ted stared after Clooney. Slowly he began to take inventory. He wasn’t tired, an absolute wonder after months of constant fatigue. His legs felt strong, certainly stronger than when he’d walked out here just—he glanced at his watch—a half hour ago. Holding the detector and swinging it back and forth hadn’t tired his arms. In fact, they felt strong, capable of lifting something much heavier.
Clasping the cross in his hand, he made his way back to his chaise and sat. He glanced down the beach and saw Clay and Leigh and Bill walking slowly back. Clay was no longer holding Leigh’s hand. In fact, Bill walked between them.
His eyes lingered on his brother. Once again he thought about Clay’s apology yesterday. And not for the first time he thought about the conflicting emotions that apology evoked.
He was very pleased that Clay no longer hated him. No, wait. He caught himself. Clay had never hated him. Ted had liked to accuse him of that emotion because then he had reason to be angry at his twin. If Mr. Good Guy Clay hated him, then he was free to disagree with anything Clay said or thought. And he had a legitimate argument to hide behind when he felt God getting too close.
My brother hates me! I’m sorry, God, but I can’t have anything to do with the standards of a man who hates me. And I don’t want to be accountable to his God.
But that thinking was based on a sham, and Ted was now forced to acknowledge it. Clay admitted he’d been harsh and unforgiving. He admitted he’d disagreed with his twin’s life choices and hated what he saw as Ted’s sin, but he’d never hated Ted. And Ted could no longer pretend to believe he had.
So what should he do now? Ted thought in something close to panic. If he couldn’t hide behind Clay’s nastiness, if it could no longer be his excuse to God, what was he to do? There was certainly a joy in the reconciliation, but there was a great empty hole in his emotions where all his resentment toward Clay used to live.
He stared blindly at the gold cross in his hand until slowly his vision cleared. He looked at the cross, really looked at it. It was beautiful, plated, according to the fine print on the back, in fourteen-karat gold. But it hadn’t been beautiful before he’d washed the crud off it.
Oh, Lord, I’m having a terrible time here. He ran his finger over the golden cross beam. I’m losing my way, and I’m not sure I’m ready to wholly embrace Yours. It’s pride, I know, but I’m not yet willing to admit I was wrong, at least in every area. I admit to being wrong in my pride and my nastiness to Clay. I admit to being wrong back when I was promiscuous. But how can I turn my back on Matt?
Ted clutched the cross and stared out at the horizon. His heart was pounding in his chest, and it was not for health-related reasons.
I’m as crusted with sin as this cross was crusted with sand. How easily I washed it clean, and now it’s beautiful. But me—I don’t know.
I’LL WASH YOU CLEAN AND MAKE YOU BEAUTIFUL.
Ted shut his eyes against the sudden flood of tears. I know, but I don’t deserve it.
SO WHO DOES?
Ted heard Bill yell, and he turned to watch the boy scramble after Terror onto the jetty. Clay took advantage of the boy’s absence and took Leigh’s hand again.
He studied Clay and Leigh. They’d messed up big time, but God had forgiven them whether they deserved it or not. He forgave them because they admitted their guilt and asked for forgiveness.
Can I make the choice to turn my back on everything I’ve been defending all these years? Can I agree with God that He’s right and I’ve been wrong? And that’s probably not turning my back on Matt because he agreed with God too.
Ted looked at the cross again. The symbol of his faith. The place of death made beautiful by some jeweler. How astonishing that it had been left where he would find it the very day after all his puny arguments against God were removed, the very day he felt a chasm yawning in his soul, the very hour he knew he had to choose.
But if I choose to agree with Your standards and admit my guilt, Father, do I have to tell Clay? Do I have to tell Mom? Or Leigh? Can this be between You and me? I know it’s pride, but I can only do so much at one time.
Clutching the cross in his hand, he turned back to the horizon. Okay, Lord. I admit that I was wrong. Does that make You happy? I knew what Your Word said, but I knew better. I knew I was hiding behind Clay’s disgust. I knew I was hurting You.
“Hey, Uncle Ted, are you awake?”
>
Forgive me, Lord, for all my sins.
“You’ll never guess what I found,” Bill called as he raced closer. He held out a great cluster of seaweed. “I’m going to smush all the air bladders. Want to help?”
“You’ll never guess what I found,” Ted countered and held out his cross.
Thirty-one
JULIA AND DAVID entered the kitchen Saturday night, slipping their jackets off and hanging them on the pegs by the door.
“You were right, David.” Julia smiled at him. “Getting out like that was wonderful. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it.”
He draped his arm over her shoulders and squeezed. “You had a tough few days, my dear.”
There was no denying that. When Ted lay so still and wan, victim of that raging interior fire, so susceptible to the pneumonia, she could hardly function. She feared that Easter weekend, the season of Life Eternal, would be for her a season of death.
Suddenly a burst of laughter came from the living room. Julia went to the doorway and peered in, David right behind her. What she saw filled her with joy, for there sat Ted in the recliner, face alight as he watched Princess Bride with Bill, Clay, and Leigh. Bill was seated between the latter two, sprawled on his back with his head in Leigh’s lap and his feet in Clay’s, his popcorn dish resting on his chest.
As Julia watched from the doorway, Clay got up to get himself some more popcorn from the huge bowl on the coffee table. When he took his seat, he went to a new one beside Leigh.
He reached down and ruffled Bill’s hair. “Slide over, champ. It’s my turn to enjoy your mother.”
Bill grumbled but moved. So did Leigh. As Clay sat, she straightened, sitting primly upright. He caught her hand and pulled her gently to him.
“Relax,” he whispered. And she did, gradually settling against his shoulder, her hand still clasped in his.
“The future should prove interesting where those two are concerned,” David muttered.
Julia nodded. “They went out to dinner last evening after church. I’ve never seen Leigh so nervous.”
But it was Ted who filled Julia’s vision and caused her to lift psalms of praise heavenward. Not only were his lungs clear and his fever gone, but he also had energy. He was still pale, underweight, and sometimes unsteady on his pins, but his eyes were alight with inner life. He looked happy for the first time in a long time.
And that was Clay’s doing.
“Did I tell you that Clay took Ted to the beach?” she asked David.
He smiled. “Several times. Why don’t you tell me again.”
She grinned at him. “You’re a nice man, David Traynor.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to tell the story again?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.
“A good story is meant to be repeated.”
“And here I thought you were a nice lady.”
“Where’d you ever get that idea?” She walked toward the kitchen, and he followed. “Clay half walked, half carried Ted through the dunes because he’s still weak, Leigh carried an aluminum chaise, and Bill danced in circles.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
Julia thought about that for a moment. “Because it was their moment, Ted’s and Clay’s. They didn’t need their mother.”
“They had plenty of others. Why not you too?”
“But Leigh is theirs in a way I’m not. And so is Bill.”
He took her hand in his. “I think I know what you mean, though I’m not sure I agree.”
“I watched from the deck outside Ted’s room. That way I could cry all I wanted.”
David ran a finger under her eye. “And I bet you cried a lot.”
“Buckets.” She sighed. “It was wonderful! And he looks so good.”
David glanced toward the living room and nodded. “For the moment.”
She poked him. “I know you don’t want me to have unrealistic expectations, but I won’t let your doctor caution ruin this time for me. Whether we find that it’s just a brief respite or a total cure, God’s given us a miracle this Easter.”
He nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Now didn’t you promise me a piece of pie to cap our gourmet night on the town at Pete’s Pizza?”
She gathered mugs and cream while the coffee brewed. She pulled out the pecan pie she’d made that afternoon. David came to peer over her shoulder as she cut.
“Hanging around you is making me get fat,” he said in obvious untruth.
“Then I’ll just cut a little piece.” She grinned to herself, knowing there was no chance he’d accept that.
“Big,” he ordered, just as she’d known he would.
Suddenly the quartet watching the movie spoke as one. “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!”
“Prepare to die,” David finished with them, grabbing her at the waist. His threat, whispered softly in her ear, stirred her hair and made goose bumps appear on her arms.
She looked over her shoulder at him and his wicked grin, so close she could barely focus. “Is this big enough?” she managed to whisper around the constriction in her throat. Her knife rested on the pie.
“What?” He blinked and looked down at the pie. “Fine.” She watched as his gaze moved from the pie to her eyes to her mouth. “Julia.” It was a mere breath of sound.
And she was in his arms being well and thoroughly kissed, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her mouth.
At first she froze. She hadn’t been kissed like this by anyone but Will in more than thirty-six years. She hadn’t been kissed like this by anyone at all for over three years.
“Relax,” he whispered against her lips.
Right.
“And put that knife down.”
David’s kiss was strange, wonderful, awkward, and exciting all at the same time. And it was tingly. Parts of her that she thought had died with Will surged to life. Surprised at herself and with a feeling of great daring, she wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to kiss him as enthusiastically and ardently as he was kissing her.
Right there in her kitchen with all the kids just steps away in the living room and the lights on for anyone driving by to see!
David pulled back first and took a step away, his hands sliding down her arms to grasp her wrists. She knew his sensitive doctor’s fingers could feel her pulse slamming, but she didn’t care. She knew his pulse rate was as out of control as hers. She’d felt his heart pound as he held her against him.
He just stared at her for a minute, his heart in his eyes. She stared back.
“I think I’ll just get the coffee and sit at the table now.” His voice wasn’t quite steady. “You sit over there.” He pointed across the table as, carafe in hand, he sank into a seat. “On the other side. Where it’s safe.”
She nodded dumbly. “Pie,” she managed and turned to the counter. She was certain her face was as flushed as her heart was overwhelmed. She gripped the edge of the Formica to hold herself erect while she waited for her blood to stop surging and her knees to stop shaking.
She muffled a giggle. She was dangerous! He had to sit across the table where it was safe, where he couldn’t reach her. She studied his reflection in the window as he carefully poured them coffee. He liked vanilla flavoring just like she did, unlike someone else she could mention. In fact, if she could believe David, he liked everything about her.
Well, he wasn’t too bad himself.
With a trembling hand she picked up the knife and cut a really big slice for him. She moved to the microwave and nuked it for a bit.
“Ice cream?” Her voice barely shook.
“One scoop.”
When she felt like she could face him again with a modicum of equanimity, she took a deep breath, turned, and put the pie in front of him. She cut a sliver for herself to keep him company as he ate.
“One sugar, no cream,” he said. “Right?”
At her bemused nod, he put a teaspoon of sugar in her cup and stirred. He pushed it across th
e table to her.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, studying his Seaside by the Beautiful Sea mug as the cream swirled into his coffee, “I have a hard time remembering what Leslie looked like unless I actually look at a photograph.”
Julia blinked, surprised at his topic of conversation. Here she was, her heart rate not quite returned to normal, and he was talking about his deceased wife. How disappointing. She must not be that dangerous after all.
He lifted his cup and took a tentative sip, testing its temperature. “If my daughter, Mandy, didn’t look so much like her mother, I’d not remember at all.”
Julia nodded. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about Leslie right now or even Mandy. He’d just kissed her, for Pete’s sake, and it had been a kiss with a capital K. This wasn’t the time to talk about Leslie. Or was it?
“I definitely don’t remember her voice,” he said. “It used to sadden me terribly.”
“But not now?” Julia asked, knowing she had trouble recalling Will’s voice. Not some of the things he’d said. She remembered many of those, especially the things that were for her ears alone. It was the timbre of his voice, the tone, the actual sound that was gone.
David shook his head. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.” He looked directly at her. “Time moves on. Life moves on. Even love moves on.”
She nodded as she dropped her eyes to the tabletop, unable to deal with the intensity in his eyes and the truth of his words. For he was right. Love did move on, should move on. She knew it. So why did she feel so guilty? So scared? So thrilled? So confused?
When she didn’t respond, David switched the conversation to his new grandson, Mandy’s second. Julia managed to keep focused on the conversation by sheer willpower. She ate her pie as if the kiss hadn’t happened. She had just put the coffee down after pouring him a refill when he reached for her right hand. He held it lightly in his, staring at it, running his thumb back and forth across her palm. Then he began slowly rotating her wedding band.
He looked up at her, his eyes very serious. “I think it’s time you took this off.”
As she stared at him openmouthed, he released her hand, took a quick swallow of coffee, then stood. “And I think it’s time I took myself off.”
