Stacy would do almost anything for her children, except take them to the beach. The ocean, the waves in particular, filled her with a dread that took her breath away and made her heart race. Before she’d agreed to come to the shore house, she’d told Ryan that she wouldn’t take the kids to the beach, no matter what. She said it had to do with the baby and her balance on the sand, but she’d lied. He’d agreed to beach duty, but he’d been busy with work and hadn’t been available to go.
With any luck at all, Brad would be home and he could take them.
When they got home, the kids walked their bikes up the driveway. Stacy pointed to the shed in the back. “Park your bikes over there, then come inside.”
She pushed open the screen door and called into the house. “Anyone home?” As the screen door slapped shut behind her, the breeze caught a note laid on the counter and it fluttered into the sink. It was from Ryan:
Wi-Fi is down. Went to a coffee shop in Point Pleasant to work. Back late.
She stared at the empty kitchen as she listened to the kids clamber up and down the stairs, and her shoulders sagged. They’d want their lunch, which she’d have to make. And since it seemed that she might be forced to take them to the beach after all, there would be towels to find, toys to pack, the cooler to load, and chairs to wrangle into the car.
She would not go to the beach. Fortunately, she didn’t have to.
“Change of plans.” She stood, pleased at her work-around. “Go upstairs and find your bathing suits. First one down, wearing your suit, with flip-flops and goggles in your bag, is the winner.”
They raced upstairs and Stacy followed them, grateful that her kids were still at an age where bragging rights was prize enough. She found her own suit and tugged it on, then grabbed one of Ryan’s shirts and slipped it on.
“Do we need sand toys?” Connor asked as he headed for the mudroom.
“Not today, buddy. We’re going to the pool.”
“The pool? But what about Miles? He’s waiting for me at the ocean.”
Stacy drew a breath and spun the lie. “You need a swim test before you go into the ocean. So we have to go to the pool first.”
For as long as she could remember, Stacy had been afraid of the ocean. Even from the relative safety of the shore, waves seemed looming and monstrous, the force of the crash as they broke terrifying and inescapable. The thought of swimming in the ocean pulled the air from her lungs and left her dizzy with fear, though she had never understood why. She was a confident swimmer in the pool or on a calm lake; it was the ocean that made her panic.
So, no. She would not take her children to the beach. She couldn’t.
With their suits on, they returned to the kitchen to gather a few things before they left. Stacy tucked her wallet and a couple of water bottles into a canvas tote for the drive over. They kids were in the mudroom looking for their flip-flops.
“What’s going on here?” Stacy’s father entered the kitchen. The sight of him so casually dressed, this time in a white T-shirt and Bermuda shorts was still something Stacy was getting used to.
“Grampy, Mommy won’t take us to the beach and we really want to go.” Sophie threw Stacy under the bus with ruthless precision.
“I’m sure she has a good reason,” her father replied as he filled a glass with water. “She’ll probably take you another day.”
“She hasn’t taken us at all!” Connor glanced at Stacy before ratting her out too. “Not one time.”
Chase turned off the tap and looked over at Stacy. “You haven’t taken them to the beach yet?”
“No, I haven’t.” She turned to her children and frowned. “But I have taken them to story time at the library every week since we arrived, and to the farmers’ market, and to the playground, and to the inlet to look for crabs. These children are hardly suffering.”
The admonishment was stern and directed at the kids, but the guilt behind it was Stacy’s. What kind of mother brings her children to the shore and refuses to go to the beach?
Stacy approached her father at the sink and lowered her voice. “Would you mind taking them to the beach, Dad? Ryan’s working and I could use the break.”
“I’m sorry, but your mother has me on lockdown.” Chase set his glass on the counter and frowned. “Why don’t you set up the sprinkler and let them play in the backyard?”
“I do not have you on ‘lockdown,’” Kaye countered as she entered the kitchen. “I asked for your help with the party. That’s all.” She faced Stacy with an expression she couldn’t decipher. “Why don’t you want to take the kids to the beach?”
“No reason,” Stacy lied as the knot of guilt tightened in her chest. She turned and guided them into the car. They’d have fun at the pool.
It was the monotony and long days that got to her, Stacy decided as she helped Sophie into her car seat. She dearly loved her children, but some days were never-ending. It was overwhelming, the number of things she managed to do in a single day—making breakfast, packing lunches, gathering worksheets, signing permission slips, volunteering in the classroom, scheduling doctor and dentist appointments, driving to after-school activities, and finally dinner, bath, and bed. Only to wake up the next morning and do it all over again.
She’d thought a summer at the shore house would be different, but it wasn’t. The truth was that Stacy sometimes envied Ryan his work. At the end of the day he had something to show for his efforts, something other than crumpled lunch bags and a pile of dirty laundry. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for her children; she did. But was it so horrible to want something for herself too? She remembered when she began her days with purpose, a passion for her career, and she missed it. But she’d made her choice—looking back was pointless.
“Done.” Stacy smiled as she snapped the seat belt.
She closed the door and took a deep breath as she rounded the car, the summer air warm on her skin as she listened to the cicadas humming in the trees. Her mood lifted as she imagined about how nice it would be to spend a hot day at the pool.
It was a short drive from their house to the swim club, and she drove with the air conditioner blasting and the vents aimed directly at her face. The water would feel wonderful.
The parking lot was almost empty when they arrived, and Stacy easily found a parking space near the entrance. From there it was a short trip up the stairs to the pool deck.
“You’re going to love the pool, Connor,” she said. “I think you might even be old enough to learn to dive. If you want, I can find someone to teach you, then you’ll have something to show your friend Miles.”
Stacy turned to Sophie. “Upstairs, they’ll have floating pool toys for you, and there’ll be other kids to play with. You guys can lounge on rafts just like movie stars.”
Stacy herself was looking forward to reading another chapter of her much-loved copy of A Winter to Remember. Without interruption. Yes, an afternoon at the pool was just what they needed.
“I’m hungry, Mommy,” Sophie said.
This time Stacy’s smile was genuine. “That’s okay, Soph, because they have a magical place called a snack bar. You tell the man at the window whatever you want to eat. He’ll make it and bring it to you.”
Sophie looked skeptical. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“What about a hot dog?” Connor asked.
“With extra-extra ketchup, just the way you like it.” Stacy held Sophie’s hand, her excitement growing as they climbed the stairs. “And after lunch you can have ice cream—whatever kind you like. And there will be kids to play with, and games. You’ll love it.”
They reached the top of the stairs and stopped.
Today, especially, Stacy assumed the swim club would be busy, but it wasn’t. She blinked, expecting to see a bank of lounge chairs draped with fluffy pool towels, picnic tables set for lunch and shaded from the sun by wide canvas umbrellas. She looked for attendants dressed in crisp white polos and khaki shorts, supervising happy children
splashing in the water.
But there was none of that.
Instead, the entire pool deck was vacant. Umbrellas were tied shut and the lifeguard chair was vacant. The window to the snack bar had been rolled closed and padlocked. A line of orange cones barred entrance to the grill room restaurant. Worst of all, the pool was only half-filled with water; a hose attached to a compressor seemed to be pulling water from it instead of adding to it.
Stacy stared, dumbstruck by what she saw. Where was everyone?
A maintenance worker dressed in khaki pants and a blue polo shirt approached with an apologetic frown. “Pool’s closed. Sorry.”
“Closed?” Stacy repeated dumbly. “For how long?”
He shrugged. “At least a week.”
“But it’s July. Why would you close the pool in July?”
“The lifeguards found a crack in the foundation of the pool the other day. We have to drain it and call someone in to patch it. Takes a day or two to dry, then we’ll fill it back again. Whole thing’ll take a week. Maybe more.”
Connor squeezed her hand to get her attention. Stacy looked down to see an expression of delight on his face. “Can we go to the beach now, Mommy? Can we, Mom, can we?”
She pretended to consider the idea. “I’m not sure. We’ll see if Daddy’s home. First, both of you need to eat lunch. Then we have to find the badges and pack the car. That’s a lot to do. I’m not sure we have the time. Maybe you can go tomorrow, with Daddy or Uncle Brad.”
“But Miles is there right now,” Connor whined. “You said we could go to the beach after I passed my swim test, but now I can’t get one.”
“A swim test?” The maintenance man gave him a puzzled look. “Don’t need a swim test for the ocean, little dude. Just a beach badge.”
They turned back and went home. Both kids were furious about not being allowed on the beach, and the short drive home was peppered with demands and questions. Stacy did her best to answer calmly but by the time she pulled into the driveway, her head ached and her patience was frayed. She let them out of the car, sighing as she watched them run into the house. After gathering the bags from the back, she made her way inside too.
“Anybody home?” she called as she dropped the keys on the side table by the door.
“We’re in here.” Ryan was seated at the breakfast bar, casually munching on an apple.
“I thought you were working all day,” If Ryan found himself with a free afternoon, the least he could have done was offer to take his turn with the kids.
“I finished sooner than I thought.” Ryan took a final bite, then rose from his stool.
“The pool is closed, Daddy. They’re taking the water out,” Sophie said as she ran to her father’s side and reached for his hand. “So we didn’t go swimming.”
“Good grief, Stace. What happened to you?” Brad entered the kitchen, utterly relaxed. He appeared freshly showered and was wearing a loose pair of board shorts and a baggy T-shirt. He glanced at her again before crossing to the refrigerator and peering inside. “You look terrible.”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” Stacy retorted as she dropped the bags and kicked them to the side. She’d been chasing both children all day long, while her husband sat at home without a care in the world. She’d had enough. “I’m going upstairs to read. You need to take the kids to the beach.”
“Okay.” Ryan shrugged as he tossed his apple core in the trash. “When?”
“Now.”
“What’s going on?” Brad swigged from an open carton of orange juice, then slid it back on the shelf.
“I’m taking the kids to the beach apparently,” Ryan replied. “You want to come?”
Brad shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
“They need lunch first,” Stacy said.
“Okay,” Ryan said warily as he glanced at her. “We’ll stop at that little stand by the beach stairs for grilled cheese. You want to come with us?”
“No,” Stacy snapped as she crossed the kitchen. “I’m going upstairs to take a nap.”
“You want to meet us at the beach later?” she heard Ryan ask, but she ignored him.
From the hallway, she heard Brad answer for her. “Dude, she never goes to the beach. Didn’t you know that?”
Stacy dragged herself up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom, feeling utterly exhausted, as if she were swimming against a current. She pushed open the door and dropped her book on the nightstand, too tired to even read, then flicked the dial on the window air conditioner to maximum and made her way to the bed. Stretching out, she listened to the hum of the compressor and felt goosebumps rise on her skin as the cool air blew across it.
The humidity and the activities of the day had drained her. She felt herself drift off to sleep, wondering how long she could keep this up, entertaining the kids without actually taking them to the beach. If they insisted, she’d insist on going home, to their apartment in Morristown.
That was her last conscious thought before sleep overtook her.
She woke sometime later, breathless and disoriented. The blanket twisted around her legs like a noose, pillows tossed onto the floor, sheets damp and wrinkled.
She’d had the dream again.
She pushed herself upright, steadying herself against feelings of panic and waves of nausea that had always followed. Like she’d done so many times before, she collected the shards remaining after she woke, hoping to piece them together in a way that made sense.
But it never did. None of it ever made sense.
In her dream, she stood on the beach, ocean waves breaking gently against her ankles. She had the sense that she was younger, a child maybe, holding on to someone’s hand as she gazed across the ocean to the horizon. At first she stood safely on shore, whitecaps breaking far out to sea. Then the water began to rise and the waves grew taller and stronger, breaking against her body as they continued to the shore. Salty water churned around her, the waves unforgiving as they tumbled over themselves, gathering strength. When the water reached her chest, she tried to run back to the safety of the shore but couldn’t because her feet didn’t touch the ground. All around her was water and she was terrified. It rose to her throat and sucked the air from her lungs. In an instant, she was pulled under. Swept into the current, she tumbled over and over in a prison of sand and ocean water.
Just when she thought she’d never draw breath, the wave that had trapped her crashed against the sand and broke open, allowing her a single moment to catch her breath before it receded, clawing her back into the ocean.
She always woke then, as she had just now, heart racing and gasping for breath.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. Home, safe in her room. After a moment, her breathing slowed, and she loosened the sheets from her legs and pushed them away. She swung her feet to the floor and stood. Crossing the hardwood floor, she turned off the air conditioner and opened the window, drawing in great breaths of fresh air. She listened to the blood roar in her ears and felt her heart thump in her chest, waiting for it to return to normal.
What kind of mother brings her kids to the shore but won’t take them to the beach?
The kind of mother who’s afraid of the ocean.
Stacy eventually made her way to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Her reflection in the mirror was grim; dark circles and puffy eyes suggested she had been crying in her sleep again. The tap water was cold against her hot skin. She dried her face on a soft towel, brushed her teeth, and headed downstairs. The wooden stairs creaked in the quiet of the house as Stacy descended. Her head was still stuffy with sleep, fragments of the dream still embedded in her mind.
As she got close to the kitchen, she heard the tinny sound of talk radio. The air was threaded with the scent of chopped onions and melted butter sizzling on the stove. Her mother was at the cutting board, slicing a stack of celery ribs. Behind her, a pot of potatoes bubbled on the stove.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, honey.” Stacy�
�s mother lowered her knife and frowned. “You look terrible.”
“Great.” Stacy opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of iced tea. She twisted the top and turned back to her mother. “Where is everyone?”
“Let’s see.” Her mother tidied the stack of celery and resumed her work. “Your brother and Ryan are out with the kids. Dad’s in his den, supposedly watching the game but I think he’s asleep. And Iona has driven herself to the mall to buy a juicer. She juices now and apparently, there’s ‘nothing to juice in my house.’”
“Juicing?” Stacy sipped her tea, feeling the liquid cool her throat. “That’s new. I thought she was vegan. Somebody should tell her to pick a lane.”
“Don’t be nasty or she’ll smudge the house again.”
“She’ll what?”
Stacy’s mother gathered the chopped celery from the board and tossed it into a nearby bowl. “Earlier this morning, I found her burning a bundle of dried leaves and fanning the smoke with a white feather. Apparently the ‘energy’—or something—is off in this house and needs to be addressed, and that was the only way to do it.”
“What was she burning?”
“Sage. And the smell was horrible. Your father thought it was drugs.”
Stacy snorted. “What did you say?”
Kaye paused. “Keep in mind that girl’s been working my last nerve since she walked through the door.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Well, I stopped her, of course. What else could I do? I told her that our family has occupied this house longer than she’s been alive and we’ve never had an ‘energy’ problem until she came. So she went crying to your brother.”
“So you decided to make soup?” Stacy eyed the collection of vegetables spread across the counter.
“No. The potatoes and onions are for potato salad, for tomorrow’s party.” Her mother sighed as she put down the knife, her energy apparently spent. “The rest of this forest is for that girl. Some of the vegetables we have on hand are suitable for juicing, but not all. She said she’ll ‘text me a list’ for the rest.”
The Shore House: An emotional and uplifting page turner (Dewberry Beach Book 1) Page 13
