“You looked lovely at the wedding,” I tell her.
“They’re good kids. Come from solid stock.”
My hands flex over and over beneath the table. “I’d like us to start fresh, Peg.”
She looks away, those flat lips pulled against her face. “I have nothing left to say. You have made your decision to stay and that’s your right.”
“I’ve made another decision as well. My sisters and I . . . we want to pay you back the money our father took from you.”
“You want to . . . pay me back? Why?” She narrows her eyes. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. Well, nothing other than our father’s memory to be left intact. He was a good man who made mistakes.” I drop my gaze to the table, draw in a breath, and give her a firm look. “A lot of them. But he loved his family—he made a million sacrifices for us. I wish you could’ve known the man we did. But since you didn’t, please allow us to erase the debt he owed you.”
“And your sisters have agreed to this?”
I nod.
She places her feet back on the ground. “I’ve never heard of anything so . . . so crazy in all of my life. Paying your father’s debt . . . when you had nothing to do with it.”
I spot Nigel glancing around the diner, so I slide out of Peg’s booth. “You have my word on this.” She doesn’t answer, her eyes still carrying a look of bewilderment.
As I make my way back to Nigel, Mel rushes through the door. “Good. You’re still here.”
“What’s the matter?”
She pushes me gently, indicating with a flick of her chin that I should sit.
“Good morning, Mel.” Nigel gives her a congenial smile.
Mel sits. “Norma called. I take it neither of you have heard the news about your friend Beth—the one who used to live in that burned-out house across from us.”
I shake my head. “What news?” A sickening thought slithers through my stomach as I recall the scene of Beth and her ex-husband at the wedding.
“It’s awful. Your friend Norma called right after we hung up. I didn’t want to call you with this news.”
“Whatever is it, my dear?” Nigel’s face registers alarm, rare for him.
“She’s in the hospital, and it’s bad. Apparently she slit her wrists.”
Silence enshrouds our table, the image too terrible to allow for in my mind. Nigel looks stricken, as if physically ill.
Mel’s voice continues, low. “She’ll pull through, Norma says, but she could have died from this.”
It makes no sense. “How can this be?” I ask her. “And her child?”
“Beth’s father has him.”
The enormity of Beth’s pain, deep and raw enough to drive her to such drastic lengths slams into me, constricting my breath. I wonder too about Billy. How is he taking all this?
Mel peers into my face, her eyes stricken. “Let me drive you.”
Stunned, all I can do is nod my head in agreement.
THE HOSPITAL CORRIDOR jammed. People of varying ages mill about, talking, carrying teddy bears and flower baskets. Have I somehow landed on the maternity floor?
“Tara!” Norma throws her arms about me and squeezes.
“I just heard.”
Norma’s nodding and fighting tears. “I know. I know.” She looks around. “Everyone is here to let Beth know how much we care. If only we’d recognized the signs . . .”
Behind a glass partition marked “Waiting Room,” Billy sits alone. I tap Mel’s arm. “Norma, this is my sister, Mel.”
Norma hugs her as if she’s known her all her life.
Both sets of eyes look to me. “I’m going to talk with Billy.”
They nod and wave me on. Billy sits so still, his arms against his knees, his hair in disarray, his eyes focused on the scuffed linoleum. The very first time I saw him, I thought Billy was huge, yet gentle and funny. Now, sitting there in the corner of the waiting room, he appears small.
And scared.
“Billy?” I sit two chairs down from him. “I’m so sorry.”
He quirks the corner of his mouth. “Guess I wasn’t enough for her.”
“Stop.”
“Did you know she’d done this before? This cutting thing? She’s been hiding it.”
“No.” I pause, taking in the depths of this news. “I hadn’t heard that, but in the short time I’ve known Beth, I have heard about some of her trials. Billy, you can’t be expected to be the antidote for someone’s complicated issues.”
He purses his lips and shakes his head. “She could have told me anything. I would have found her some help.”
“Why would she do such a thing? Hurt herself like that?”
Billy straightens. “We’ve been trained to work with people who do these things. Usually it’s people who have a difficult time expressing their emotions. Some even feel they’ve been forbidden to do so.”
His tone was flat, emotionless, and I had the sense reciting cold facts helped him maintain control.
“People who hurt themselves are often hiding their deepest problems. Instead of dealing with issues and traumas, they inflict pain on themselves in a variety of ways. Including cutting.”
Though his voice remains neutral, his face wears so much pain my heart constricts. “Billy, now that Beth’s secret is out, you can still be there for her. You can still find her some help.”
“I don’t know, I mean, I’d help her in a second. But she’s going to have to want it—I can’t force myself on her.” He stares off into nowhere. “Her father’ll get her therapy, but it’s gonna be a long haul for the two of us.” He sighs, loudly, before standing abruptly to acknowledge someone else’s presence. “Josh.”
Billy throws himself into Josh’s arms and they grip each other. Billy’s face crumbles and red splotches spread and fill his cheeks. Choked sobs break through and he buries his face in Josh’s shoulder.
I back out of the room to give them their space, but Josh halts me with imploring eyes, turning my legs to quivering jellyfish. How insensitive of me to feel such magnetic attraction during such a tragic time. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the visceral reactions I have to this man. My hard heart toward him softens, just a bit, as he unabashedly hugs his big bear of a friend.
I attempt to step back again, but this time, Josh reaches out and grasps my hand. He pulls me closer. We almost look like we’re having a group hug. “Don’t go,” he mouths.
I’m caught in the middle, between the tragic circumstances of this day and the wavering feelings I have for Josh. Billy lets him go and blows his nose on a napkin that’s been overused. Josh continues to hold my hand, stroking it with his fingers, as I try to make sense of the tragedy that brought us here—and why I can’t easily turn away from him.
“Tara?” Mel steps into the waiting area. “The word is that no one but family is allowed to see her until tomorrow. Do you need a ride home?” She eyes Josh as she asks the question.
I don’t wait for him to answer, which he surely tries. “Yes. Absolutely. Let’s go.”
Josh carefully releases my hand, yet every part of me prickles at his nearness. One turn. That’s all it would take and I’d say “adios” to my sister, even though there is too much uncertainty with Josh. He brushes my right shoulder and I can’t help but hesitate.
“Life’s too short for you to not allow me to apologize. I hope some day you can forgive me.” His breath tickles my ear and I close my eyes. It’s true. Life can be short and grudges only fill it with bitterness. And yet I wonder at Josh’s words.
If you can’t receive forgiveness without giving it, then what good will it do for me to forgive Josh . . . when he’s never forgiven his father?
Chapter Thirty-two
Mind if we make a stop before going home?”
“Nope.” Mel could gun it into the woods and I wouldn’t protest. I’m too distracted and muddled to care what route we take.
She turns off the highway and onto a winding, unpaved r
oad. Silence grows like thick kelp. Finally Mel exhales. “Well, I, for one, would love to know what happened between you and lover boy—within reason, that is. I know you haven’t been talking, but I’m still reeling from the heat back there.”
“Stop it.”
She looks at me. “Are my eyebrows singed?”
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. We’re driving toward the west along some back road that’s lined with horse rail fences and drooping willows and even a few vineyards growing syrah and cabernet sauvignon, among other grapes. “Where are we going?”
“Just back to Otter Bay. I discovered this road one day when I took a wrong turn and I like it. It’s different.” She pauses. “So, you going to tell me what happened between you two?”
I shrug. “Josh has a lot of layers to him. Some more attractive than others.”
“Ouch. Hm. But you wouldn’t be so indefinite about your feelings for him if those attractive qualities weren’t outweighing the others so much.”
My mouth falls open.
“Right?”
I close my mouth and glance out over a ridge that disappears into the sky. A red-tailed hawk soars effortlessly after giving itself three measured wing beats. “He scares me.”
Mel laughs. “Yeah, well, the best kind always do.” She turns left up and over a bump of a hill and we coast down a recognizable street. “Here we are.”
“There’s . . . Simka’s. How fun—we came down the back side of Alabaster Lane.” I turn to her. “You’re quite
the adventurer, Mel-Mel.”
“There aren’t a whole lot of other ways to fight boredom in this town, you know . . .”
“Stop it right now.”
She laughs and parks the car. Something is different at Simka’s. I run my eyes over the grounds and side to side, but can’t figure out what has changed.
“You like the fence?”
I blink. “That’s what’s different. There’s a fence out here now and it’s such a pretty one. I like the arbor and the pink roses too.”
“Those will grow up and over that arbor. We also muted the color of the house—that other pink was obnoxious. This one’s more appetizing, like a nice sherbet.”
“We?”
She’s halfway up the stairs. “Don’t you remember? Simka’s been consulting with me.”
I rub my lips together tightly. I do remember, but just barely. Where’ve I been? “The place looks spectacular. It’s a real showstopper now.”
Mel’s hand rests on the doorknob. “Tell me about it.” She opens the door and the front gallery swarms with shoppers. The place is alive with female chatter, a set of twins whining in a double stroller, and several old men getting their patience tested as they recline on an upholstered church pew up against the back wall.
“My idea,” Mel whispers. “I told Simka that she needed a place for the guys to sit so they won’t rush the women out.”
We both laugh and head into Gallery Two or, as I’ve always thought of it, the dining room. Beneath the window, a sofa table holds an array of brightly colored beanies, similar to the one Camille showed me the other night. Mel picks one up. “So what do you think?”
“About what?”
She plops the beanie onto her head and pulls it down until it’s snug. Her long dark hair flows casually down to her shoulders. “About Camille and Holly’s wares. Simka’s giving them a try here.”
“You are kidding! They made all these?”
“Yup.”
“Darlings!” Simka nearly dances into the room, her peacock-inspired wrap swishing gracefully about her. “Business has never been better. Never at all. What do you think about these amazing head accessories from HollyCam designs?”
HollyCam? “I’m amazed. I had no idea they had accomplished so much. They’re . . . they’re beautiful.”
Simka takes my arm and leans in toward my ear, as if telling me a cherished secret. “The most fabulous news is that surfers have found them already. Just yesterday, two came in here right off the beach—I had to sweep the sand right out of the store once they left. They bought four total, one for each of themselves and the others for their girlfriends. Isn’t that divine?”
I pat her hand, which rests on my forearm. “That’s terrific news, Simka. And the store is beautiful too. I truly love that fence.”
“Your sister has an amazing gift. Did you know that she spoke with the gentleman who owns the antique shop down the block? He agreed to allow me to place a small, elegant sign pointing the way to Simka’s!”
I smile at my sister, who’s trying very hard to look nonchalant amidst so much praise. “Good job, you.”
A woman approaches Simka. “Excuse me, but may I try this on?”
“Of course you may, my dear. Come, come.” Simka turns to us. “Ta-ta, ladies.”
My cell rings as we climb back into the car after perusing Simka’s place a while longer.
Mel starts up and heads for home and I debate over whether to answer it.
“If you won’t, I will,” she calls out.
With a sigh, I answer. “Hello.”
“Tara, it’s me.”
A beat passes. “I know.”
“There’s something I want to tell you . . . something I haven’t told anyone. You don’t have to meet me—that’s your decision. But I’m asking you to anyway. I’m at the cove. Meet me here?”
What would Josh have to say to me that is so private he wouldn’t have told anyone before? As he said earlier, though, life’s short. Besides, I never turn down a chance to sit by the waters in the cove. “Okay, I guess. I’m almost there now.”
Mel lets me out at the top of the stairs. She leans over toward the passenger side. “Do not come home before dark.”
I shut the car door with a restrained sigh and head down to meet Josh, whose truck sits near the edge. He’s waiting for me on the steps. “Here.” He reaches out. “Take my hand.”
We walk a bit until out of earshot of a few late afternoon beachgoers. Josh ushers me to a secluded cove of sand between two chiseled and towering rocks. His face shows grim. I breathe in. “Did Billy get to see Beth?”
He nods, his eyes squinting against the light. “He did. Actually, I saw her too, briefly.” He shakes his head. “She and I developed this bond . . . can’t explain it.”
“You saved her life once. Nothing can shake that out of a person.”
“I’ve told you before that I don’t consider myself a hero.”
My fingers play absentmindedly with smooth stones on the beach. “Yes, you did.”
“I’m not about to take that back.”
“No, I suppose you won’t.”
“But I learned something new today.”
He takes in my face with grief-stricken eyes, and my breath catches in my chest. “Josh? You’re scaring me. What is it?”
His Adam’s apple moves sharply and he breaks eye contact, looking into the sand instead. “The day of the fire, the day I dragged her out of that house—I thought I’d nearly killed her.”
“What? No, no. Josh, everyone in town says you were the hero. If you wouldn’t have been there and acted as you did, she might have perished. I heard that she was bleeding . . .” I take in a big, jarring breath. “No.”
“It’s called self-injuring, and Beth’s been doing it for a long time.”
“And you blamed yourself for her getting so cut up on shattered glass. Oh, Josh.”
“I wasn’t on duty that day. I’d gone to a friend’s to watch the 49ers play. They won and I decided to celebrate. I wasn’t driving, so I had two beers and took off walking.”
“I’ve never seen you drink before. I thought you didn’t.”
He shakes his head. “I swore it off years ago because of all it’s done to our family. I broke my own rule that day.”
“Is that when you saw the fire?”
“On my way home. I took a shortcut through your neighborhood and smelled it—I’d know that smell anywhere—it’s like des
truction. I called it in but couldn’t wait knowing that Beth and her son lived there. By God’s grace, he wasn’t home, but it took me awhile to spot Beth. The smoke was coming on thick.”
I touch his back and instinctively massage him with my fingers, trying to soothe away the tautness from his muscles.
“Once I got her in my arms, the operation went well. The front door was blocked, but I had kicked out a side window and helped her through it. That’s when I saw all the blood.” He pauses, hanging his head between his knees. “Rivers of it.”
Nausea climbs my esophagus. I breathe in the sea air, allowing it to fight against my unease. “You saved her from more than a fire then.”
“Don’t you see? I’d been drinking, Tara. I figured the beers had affected my ability to be sharp, to move accurately.” His chest visibly expands and contracts. “Just like my dad.”
Scattered dots that have been floating around in my head for the past few weeks connect on Josh’s words. I’d understood his embarrassment over his father’s public drunkenness, but the fear, deep-seated and raw, obviously ran much deeper. His anger went beyond himself. Josh must have begun to believe he’d fallen prey to the same insidious disease his father had, and that it had affected the job he loved dearly.
“You must’ve been tortured by the thought. And you’ve kept this all to yourself?” He nods, gazing out to sea. “Is this why you jump at the chance to take every call—even before finishing a good-night kiss?”
A tender smile stretches across his face, but his eyes reflect regret. “I did that, didn’t I?”
I rub my lips together and nod, slowly. “’Fraid so. It’s as if you’ve been trying to atone . . . for something. I didn’t see it, but I wondered.”
“You wondered what?”
“Why you were such a daredevil. I mean, I know guys tend to be adventuresome in nature, but you always seem to be in the fray. You . . .”
“Didn’t even give you a proper kiss good-night.”
A blush heats my skin. “Something like that.”
A haggard sound drags out of him. “You’re right, I guess. I wanted to make up for my mistake that night—or what I thought my actions had caused. Beth’s doctor probably could’ve explained all this to me if I’d asked. But I didn’t. I saw the blood and the cuts and was so focused on what I had done wrong that I didn’t piece the truth together.”
Sweet Waters Page 22
