“You know the rule. Shoes off in the house.” Stacy pointed toward the mudroom. “Put them in there.”
“But Daddy tied the laces too tight.” Sophie dropped to the floor in a dramatic heap. “He doesn’t do them like you do.”
“You should learn how to tie your own sneakers, Sophie.” Stacy put down her pen and crossed the room to help. “Then you can make them however you like.” She slipped the grass-stained sneakers off and handed them back. “Put them away please.”
As Sophie reluctantly trudged to the mudroom, Stacy glanced at Connor who stood in the doorway, holding back.
“You okay, bud?”
Connor frowned; his bottom lip quivered. “Bibi’s right. You don’t like us anymore.”
“What?” Stacy gasped. “Bibi said that?”
Instead of answering, Connor looked away, so Stacy crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “You know that’s not true, right?” She reached for his hands. “I’m working for a little while, just like Daddy does.”
“Daddy doesn’t like us either when he works. He tells us to be quiet and now you’re telling us that too.”
The comment took Stacy’s breath away. “Is that what you really think?”
Connor nodded slowly.
She squeezed his hand. “Just a few more days, buddy. Then I’ll be finished and we can play.”
Even as she spoke, she knew “a few days” meant nothing to a six-year-old; she may as well have said “a few years.” She glanced at her work bag and the pages spread across the counter. It was true that she’d barely seen her children since she and Billy began work. They were used to seeing her every day and it must be hard for them.
“Okay.” Stacy rose. An afternoon off might be a good idea, a chance to clear her head. And she’d bring her work with her, just in case. But the pool had closed for the season and the kids had already been to the duck pond more times than they could count.
She needed to give them something bigger.
“Go get your suits on, we’re going to the beach.” She blurted it out quickly, before she had a chance to take it back.
She scribbled a note for Ryan and headed for the beach.
The parking lot was full by the time they arrived, rows and rows of cars shimmering in the summer heat. Driving to the beach had seemed like a good idea because they had so much stuff to bring, but the only empty space they found was blocks from the beach and they’d end up walking anyway.
“Make sure you put on your flip-flops before you leave the car.” Stacy turned off the engine and glanced toward her kids in the back seat. “The asphalt’s hot this time of day and you’ll burn your feet.”
Sophie scrambled out of the car the moment she was released from her car seat, excited for the afternoon. Stacy grabbed her hand and pointed to a patch of grass beside the curb. “You stand right there, Sophie. Do not move from that spot.”
She turned to Connor. “Buddy, watch your sister, okay? I don’t want her running into the street.”
“Okay.” Connor grasped his sister’s hand as Stacy unlocked the trunk and began unloading everything they needed for two hours at the shore.
“Connor, can you carry this bag?” Stacy handed him the canvas boat tote filled with sand toys. It was bulky but light, and he should be able to manage it. She waited while he lifted it from the ground.
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Good boy.” Stacy pulled Sophie’s pink bag from the car and handed it to her daughter. “Sophie, you take this. Both of you stay right there while I load up.” Stacy pulled the wagon from the car and clicked the wheels into place. Out came a stack of beach towels, more sand toys, a snack bag, a cooler of drinks, sunblock, floppy hats, and sunglasses. Finally, she jerked a tangle of rusty beach chairs free from the back of her car and balanced them on top.
“You guys ready?” Her face was covered in a mask of perspiration and the back of her shirt was damp with sweat. She smiled at her children, despite the uneasiness she felt at being this close to the ocean.
The area became more congested as they approached the beach stairs. The small parking area beside the entrance, designed for loading and unloading, was packed with cars, most of them double parked. The spillover lined both sides of the street and the queue for beach badge checking snaked down the stairs and into the parking lot.
“Mommy, we’re here!” Sophie broke free from her brother’s grasp and ran toward the line, her flip-flops slapping against the bottoms of her feet.
Connor dropped his bag and ran after his sister.
Stacy felt the start of a blister as the edge of her sneaker cut into the back of her heel, and the baby kicked in protest as she bent to pick up the canvas bags her children had abandoned. As she straightened, someone bumped her cart and jostled a beach chair free from the load. A rusty tip of metal scraped her shin as she retrieved it and pushed it back on top.
By the time she caught up with her children, Stacy was light-headed with exhaustion. The line inched forward as the attendant checked badges that allowed entrance to the beach. The wooden stairs radiated the heat from the sun and her temples began to throb. She’d packed hats for the kids but had forgotten her own. They crested the stairs to the platform and Stacy glanced at the beach, groaning in frustration.
This had been a mistake.
The beach was a patchwork of neon towels and wide umbrellas stuck into the sand. The shoreline was clogged with people, swimming, wading, and surfing. It had been so long since Stacy had been to the beach she’d forgotten how crowded it could become, especially on a sunny summer afternoon.
“Next.”
Stacy tipped her badge toward the attendant and moved forward, fighting the anxiety filling her chest. She’d promised the kids an afternoon at the beach. Two hours, and then she could go home. She could stand anything for two hours.
They descended the ramp to the bottom of the stairs and paused briefly to rearrange their load. A thread of sand trickled into her sneakers and Stacy made the mistake of kicking them off. She’d forgotten how hot summer sand actually was.
“Keep your flip-flops on and stay close to me,” she told them as she grabbed the handle of the beach cart and pulled it forward.
Luckily, Stacy spotted a family packing up to leave. She sent Connor running over to reserve the spot. The proximity to the water’s edge made her nervous, but it didn’t seem like they had much of a choice. She staked the umbrella while Connor and Sophie spread their towels. It took them a while to unpack, but in the end Stacy was satisfied. There was a shady spot for the kids to play with their buckets and shovels and sandcastle molds, and room for Stacy to work on Billy’s pages. The space was tighter than she would have liked, but it was workable.
She unzipped the snack bag. “You guys take whatever you want.” She gave them each a juice box. “We’ll have lunch a little later.”
The kids seemed happy enough, scooping sand and eating snacks, so Stacy began her work. The sound of the surf and the murmur of conversation receded as she focused on the words.
“Mommy—look!” Sophie’s squeal of excitement pulled Stacy from Billy’s story. She glanced to where Sophie pointed, to a pair of trawlers headed off to sea.
“They’re going fishing,” Stacy said.
“Can we go fishing too?”
“On a big boat like that? I don’t think so, sweetheart. I think that’s just for fishermen.”
Connor upended a bucket of dry sand and the wind caught it, scattering sharp grains across their towels.
Stacy brushed her pages clear. “Connor, you have to be more careful.”
“Sorry, Mommy.”
“It’s okay, buddy.”
The kids played together for a while and Stacy finished a few more pages.
This isn’t so bad after all.
“Mommy, can I take my tugboat over there to play with those kids?” Connor pointed toward a shallow tide pool well away from the breaking waves. A few other children were there already, kids about Co
nnor’s age, and with adults seated nearby it seemed safe to let him go.
“Do not go in the water. You stay on the sand. You got it?”
“Okay, Mommy.” Connor scooped up his tugboat and went to join the others.
Sophie had fallen asleep under the umbrella and Stacy returned to her work. After a few paragraphs, she found her rhythm and immersed herself in the story. Billy’s second book might just be better than the first…
“Stacy, there you are!”
Startled, Stacy jumped. It was jarring to be pulled back into this world after being so engrossed in Billy’s. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, Stacy looked up at the voice.
“I brought you all something to eat.” Kaye glanced at Sophie, napping in the shade, and lowered her voice. “I wasn’t sure what food you had.”
“We’re fine, Mom,” Stacy said coldly, remembering their previous conversation. “I know how to feed my children.”
“About what I said earlier…” Kaye began. “Maybe I owe you an apology.”
“I’d say so.” Stacy waited.
Kaye set the bag of food on the edge of the blanket. “Where’s Connor? I have his lunch too.”
Stacy glanced at the tide pool and her heart slammed into her chest. The tide pool where she’d sent Connor to play with his little plastic boat had disappeared. In its place, ocean water swirled and foamed as the tide surged in. Waves raced across the beach toward the jetty, then receded, leaving nothing in their wake.
The tide pool was gone.
The children and the adults watching them were gone.
Her son was gone.
Stacy bolted to her feet, abandoning her work, and sprinted across the sand to where the tide pool used to be. Panic clawed at her throat, sucking out her breath. She didn’t stop running until she was knee-deep in water, calling her son’s name with a primal howl.
She ran toward a group of adults seated a little higher up the beach. “Have you seen my son?” She clasped her shaking hands together to keep them steady. “He’s six years old. This tall. White T-shirt. Wavy brown hair. Red bathing suit—have you seen him?”
The world slowed as Stacy watch them look at each other and back at her. One of the women rose from her chair. Stacy felt hands on her shoulders, but she shook them off and ran back to where the tide pool had been.
The water was deeper now as the tide rushed in. Stacy watched as the waves snatched a forgotten beach towel from the sand and slammed it into the jagged rocks before sucking it back under water. She imagined her son in place of the towel, his body broken by the ocean waves. She pictured him being carried out to sea, losing his breath and calling for her.
A sob rose in her throat as she ran into the water again, the waves pushing against her legs, slowing her progress. A wave crested, breaking against her body and she lost her balance. She thrust her hands in front of her body to protect the baby from her fall, and when the wave receded, she righted herself and continued into the ocean, thrashing her way past the breaking waves, on her way to rescue her son.
She was aware of a frenzy of activity behind her but she didn’t pay attention. Her only concern was rescuing him from the waves. In the distance, a lifeguard whistle sounded, shrill and sharp on the beach. Another wave slammed into her chest, this one knocking her off her feet. She felt a pair of strong hands pull her to shore. She’d lost the strength to shake them off, but she howled in protest. Stacy tasted her heartbeat, her blood pressed against her skin as she watched the waves carry the towel out to sea.
Her son was out there. She knew he was.
She dropped her head onto her knees and sobbed.
“Stacy, it’s okay!” A hand reached for her, smoothed her hair away from her face. “Stacy, listen to me.”
Stacy drew a ragged breath and looked up. She felt strangely detached, as if she were watching a movie about a woman on the beach who’d lost her child.
“They found him.” The voice sounded as if it came from far away. “Stacy, they found Connor. He’s okay.”
“Where?” Her body was heavy as she rose to her feet. “Where is he?”
“He’s fine.” Her mother wrapped her arm around Stacy and helped her up. “He went to play with a boy named Miles. He said he didn’t tell you because you were working.”
Stacy stopped, unable to move as shame washed over her.
She’d lost her child because she thought work was more important than caring for him. Her mother had been right. It was crazy to think she could do both.
Connor came back to them, red-faced and apologizing for running away.
Stacy dropped to her knees and held him tight, feeling shame and relief pressing so heavily on her body that she could barely speak.
Eventually, she watched her mother pack up the beach things and allowed herself to be led back to the car.
Twenty-Two
When they arrived home, Kaye guided Stacy upstairs to her room as if she were a child. She found a soft nightgown in the drawer and turned down the bed. While Stacy changed in the bathroom, Kaye drew the curtains and switched on the air conditioner. She tucked her daughter into bed and smoothed the creases from the blanket.
“You rest now. We should talk later,” her mother said as she closed the door behind her.
But there didn’t seem to be anything to say.
Sometime during the night, Stacy woke feeling the weight of the ocean press against her chest as if she were drowning. She lay in the darkness, gasping for air, the sheets wrapped around her legs like a rope, her pillow hot and damp. She reached across the bed for Ryan, but his side of the bed was empty.
The next time she woke, it was light. The air conditioner had been turned off, the window opened, the curtains pushed back, and daylight flooded the room. Outside, there were sounds of children playing, riding their bikes in the street and calling to each other. Stacy sat up in bed. It was time to get up and face judgment for what she’d allowed to happen.
There was a soft knock on the door.
“Come in.”
The door creaked as it opened and Ryan entered. “You’re up.” He carried a steaming mug of what smelled like peppermint tea.
“What time is it?” Her head felt fuzzy.
“Around four in the afternoon, I guess—on Thursday. You were out for a long time.”
So she’d miss tomorrow’s deadline, which seemed appropriate punishment for what she’d done. She only regretted that her judgment would include Billy. He didn’t deserve that.
Stacy sat up to accept the mug of tea. The warm liquid soothed her raw throat. “This is good, thank you.”
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the children play outside and feeling the late afternoon breeze from the open window. Ryan wandered to the window and sat in the chair.
“I guess you heard what happened?” Stacy said finally, her gaze focused on the contents of her mug. She wouldn’t blame him if he left her.
Ryan shifted his position to look at her. “I did, and I’m really sorry, Stace.”
She frowning in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”
“Because what happened is my fault. I promised to watch the kids while you worked, and I pawned them off on your mother first chance I got. I shouldn’t have.”
“Ryan, I think you’re missing the bigger picture here. I lost your child.”
He scoffed. “You know how many times my parents lost me when I was a kid? Or lost my brothers? More times than I can count. And Connor’s fine.”
Stacy hadn’t the vaguest idea how to reply, so she didn’t.
“Can I tell you something else?” Ryan continued. “The reason I left them with your mother?”
“Sure.”
He rose and paced the length of the room “You’re better with the kids than I am. I didn’t know what to do with them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You make it look easy, Stace, and it’s not.” He sighed. “You know how many times Connor bugs me to go crabb
ing or to the beach? That kid is a bundle of energy. And then Sophie—she’s always asking for a juice box.”
“Only one,” Stacy said automatically.
He paused and looked at her. “What?”
“Only one juice box,” Stacy said. “She’ll ask a million times, but she only gets one a day because the sugar makes her hyper.”
“That little stinker,” Ryan muttered as he raked his fingers through his hair. “But you see? I don’t know stuff like that. You do.”
“Ryan.” Stacy gaped at her husband. “I lost your child at the beach. No one’s giving me any parenting awards.”
“Our kid ran off. It could have happened anywhere.”
Ryan was dismissive, but Stacy couldn’t be. It was true that she’d lost track of her kids before, at Target or the grocery store, but this was different. She’d never felt this kind of terror before and it shook her, making her doubt herself, her ability to keep them safe.
“It’s not your fault.” Ryan crossed the room and stood before her. “Stacy. What happened is not your fault.”
Stacy managed a weak smile. She didn’t agree with him and she never would, but she appreciated his words.
“I’d like another chance with them,” Ryan said suddenly.
“Another chance?” Stacy echoed. “Ryan, they’re your children. You can have as many chances as you want.”
“You don’t get it.” The mattress dipped as Ryan sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m embarrassed to know that I can only last a few days with the kids before foisting them on your mother. That’s not good. So, I’ve been thinking.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his legs and lacing his fingers together. “What if I don’t go back to work right away? We’ll cash in my options now and I’ll take some real time off. If we’re careful, we could do it for maybe a year or two.”
“That sounds like a lot to talk about right now…” Stacy said as she set her mug on the nightstand. “I’m not sure I can handle any big discussions.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course,” Ryan amended. “We’ll talk later.”
She settled back into the bed, expecting Ryan to leave, but he didn’t.
The Shore House: An emotional and uplifting page turner (Dewberry Beach Book 1) Page 24
