Driftwood Dreams

by T. I. Lowe

  Josie’s mouth popped open but closed, keeping whatever comment locked inside and taking the suggested breath. He matched her breath for breath for a few beats until the rigidness of her shoulders faded away. His eyes caught on a few speckles of purple paint on the side of her neck. Looking closer, he also found some in her hair. Paint on Josie Slater was one appealing sight, but he bit down on his lip and decided not to point it out.

  He tilted his head to the side until her baby-blue eyes met his gaze. “I enjoyed working alongside you this morning. I really hope you’ll feel like returning after work.”

  “I’ll . . . I’ll try.”

  August knew that was all he could ask of her, so he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the door. Watching the little white truck pull away, he berated himself for the incident earlier that sent her walls up and probably put a padlock on them. He was never one for subtlety, but he knew better than to come at Josie with his heart wide-open. “Danged if I didn’t do it anyway,” August grumbled under his breath while scraping some blue paint off his thumbnail.

  By the time the truck was out of sight, August figured it was in his best interest to go have a talk with the only man he knew who was an expert on subtlety. He closed up shop and headed out.

  August parked his truck beside the family restaurant and used his key to get in the side door. Dishes clanged in the kitchen as the staff prepared for the lunch and dinner shifts ahead. August paused long enough to greet a few people before scooting into the dining room. The lights weren’t on yet but enough coastal light flooded through, making it easy to find Derek at his favorite booth.

  “Hey, Dad,” August greeted as he tapped Derek on the shoulder before sliding in the booth and swiping the glass of tea.

  Derek looked up from the stack of papers in front of him and smiled. “Hey, you. To what do I owe this honor?”

  “I need some woman advice.”

  Derek dropped his pen and closed the lid of his laptop. “This calls for my undivided attention.”

  Derek Bradford was the quietest man August had ever met, which was completely opposite of August and Derek’s younger brother Carter, but his presence spoke volumes and demanded respect. August had tried to garner as much wisdom from the man as possible over the years and sure hoped to collect some now.

  August leaned forward and tried lowering his voice. “I think I messed up today.” Making sure the coast was clear, he told his dad how exactly he messed up while drawing swirls in the condensation on the glass. “I left tact at the door, man.” He shook his head and waited for Derek to lecture or poke fun at his foolishness. When Derek remained quiet, August glanced up and only found a deep sense of understanding looking back at him.

  “You’re in love.”

  August slumped. “Yeah, I am, but I’m screwing it up. Today was the first time Josie was at the firehouse, and I had to go and act like an idiot.”

  “Maybe it was a little too soon, but, Son, what you said about her being a rainbow—” Derek shook his head and smiled—“I’m impressed. Bet Josie was too, but she probably didn’t know how to respond to that type of forwardness. And even though we’re an affectionate bunch, not all people are comfortable being touched or having someone in their space, so be mindful of reading her body language, okay?”

  August sighed. “I know . . .” He tossed his hands up. “It just feels natural to hold her hand or hug her or put my arm around her shoulder—”

  “Or trace her face,” Derek interjected on a quiet chuckle.

  August rolled his eyes and snorted. “Or that. Yeah, but I do pay attention. Josie doesn’t cringe or flinch away. And you know me, I’m respectful.”

  “I do.”

  August propped his elbows on the table and scanned the empty dining area before asking, “You said you had to chase Nan?”

  Derek quietly chuckled again. “Yes.”

  “How’d you finally catch her?”

  “You’re not going to like the answer.” Derek ran a hand through his neat salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Lay it on me, man.” August drained the rest of the tea and grabbed the small pitcher to refill it. This was something he’d missed while traveling abroad and even up north. Seemed only Southern restaurants supplied tables with their own pitchers of beverages. It sure did make life easier.

  “Nan Bradford wouldn’t let someone catch her even if they had a gun pointing at her head. That stubborn woman had to finally figure it out for herself whether she was going to relent or not.”

  August groaned, knowing he had a stubborn one on his hands, too. “Then what did you do until she finally decided?”

  Derek’s mouth quirked on one side. “I kept quietly pursuing her. Took tons of patience.” He glanced over his shoulder before leaning toward August. “I will say this . . . Nan always had an excuse to keep me from getting too close. It was a trust issue on her part, and so every time she’d give me an excuse about something, I would find an answer to it.”

  August rubbed his forehead. “How so? I need examples.”

  Derek focused past August, toward the large picture windows that overlooked the inlet. He seemed to be searching for something and found it when his eyes snapped toward August. “One time she told me she couldn’t go to a concert with me because she had to do laundry.”

  August squinted at his dad. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Sure did. I showed up several hours before the concert. Her roommate let me in and I went at it like a Merry Maid until Nan showed up and was too amused to refuse going to the concert with me.”

  “Josie never says much about house chores.”

  “No, but has she given you an excuse for something else holding her back?”

  “Many.” August sighed. “Derek, I just want to give Josie an opportunity to claim her dreams like you and Nan gave me. I ain’t forcing her to do any of it. I just . . .” He shook his head.

  “I understand your heart is in the right place, Son. Just keep in mind that it is ultimately Josie’s choice to partner with you in the art department at camp.”

  “I know. I’m just hoping to present it to her in a way that makes it too good to resist.”

  Derek grinned. “If that young lady loves art as much as you say she does, I think she’ll choose the partnership. Just be patient.”

  August snorted. “Then tell your kid brother to get off my back for a minute.”

  “Carter is too excited for his own good. I’ll have a talk with him,” Derek agreed. “Now, I need to get some things sorted before we open. Wanna help me out?”

  “Sure.”

  After helping his dad with some busywork, August made his goodbyes and took the back way out and found an unlikely person sitting on the patio. Though with it being their second run-in in such a short time span, perhaps it wasn’t all that unlikely. Shaking his head, he skirted around a few patio tables until reaching the one where a sopping wet Dalma sat, cheek resting in the palm of her hand as she gazed out at the inlet.

  “Would you like a menu, Miss Dalma?” August asked even though he knew she wasn’t there to eat.

  “Nah . . .” Dropping her hand, she looked up at him with a pinched expression.

  “Wanna tell me about it?” He leaned a hip against the table and crossed his arms.

  She hitched a shoulder up, reminiscent of a sulky teenager. “Fell into the inlet while trying to pull in my crab trap . . . darnedest thing.”

  August lifted his gaze and took in Dalma’s dock, directly across the water from the restaurant. Luckily, it was high tide, so her fall shouldn’t have been that far, but that also meant she had swum across it. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” He looked her over and found only a soggy mess.

  Dalma wiggled her shoulders and then rolled her neck side to side. “Not that I know of.” She raised her bare feet, showing off hot-pink nails. “Lost my bedroom slippers, though.”

  August didn’t know whether to be amused or worried by the little lady. Obviously it w
as time to look into what was going on with her. “Well, if that’s the worst to come out of it, I’d say you’re a lucky lady.”

  Dalma tittered quietly. “Lucky enough to get another ride home?”

  August offered his arm just as he’d done at the craft store but couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “You had enough swimming for one day?”

  Dalma stood and curled her arm around his. “I believe I have.”

  After August found her a towel and helped her inside his truck, Dalma asked, “You wouldn’t feel like granting me another favor, would ya?”

  “What’s that?” He shifted the truck into gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “The line came loose on my trap. . . . Would you mind fishing it out of the inlet for me?”

  August barked in laughter, knowing that trap was probably wedged in the mud and making itself right at home. “You went too far, ma’am, but I know where a spare trap is and I’ll be happy to give it to you.” He made a note to go by Growler’s to buy her a new one.

  Dalma beamed. “You’re a peach. No wonder my Josie is so sweet on you.”

  August’s brows shot up as he glanced over at Dalma. “Is she now?”

  “Don’t play coy with me. We both know it. And we both know you’re just as sweet on her.” She glanced out her window and sighed. “That poor girl has become so skittish since her mother died. Please promise me you’ll not give up on Josie.”

  He pulled into her driveway and put the truck in park before angling toward the little woman sitting there with her hair still dripping and her clothes wrinkling. “Miss Dalma, I’m careful about making promises . . . How about I promise to try my best to talk her into not giving up on me?” He knew he could keep that one.

  “I suppose that’ll do.” She nodded her head once.

  August exited the truck and hurried around to the other side to help Dalma down. He walked her inside and surveyed the haphazard mountains of books strewn all over the living room. He’d seen it the other day after they went fishing, but it was still mind-boggling.

  “Here.” Dalma poked his arm with another book.

  “You gave me one the other day. I’m good.” August tried waving it off, but she shoved it into his hand.

  “Nonsense. You can never have too many books.”

  “Clearly.” His eyes flickered around the room before regarding the book in his hand. This one had a pirate with billowy long hair with his arms wrapped around a hot maiden. “Thank you, ma’am. You okay or do you need me to stick around for a while?”

  “I’m fine . . . but are you sure you don’t think you could get my trap out of the water?”

  “Pretty sure, but I’ll drop another one off to you later today. Deal?”

  The worry on Dalma’s face eased and was replaced with a smile. “Deal.”

  “Thanks for the book.” He held it up and saluted her with it before easing out the front door.

  “Be sure to read it!” Dalma hollered as he jogged down the steps.

  August just waved before climbing in the cab of the truck. He popped open the glove box and tucked the book on top of the other one Dalma had given him. It was some gothic murder mystery, which wasn’t his taste in reading either. Releasing a brief snort over Dalma’s quirkiness, he fished out his phone and made a quick call to another Sunset patriarch.

  “What can I do for ya, kid?” Doc Nelson asked after a receptionist got him on the phone.

  “Thanks for taking my call, sir. Dalma Burgess took a plunge into the inlet. She seems all right, but I’d feel better if you could stop in and check on her.”

  “That ole girl ain’t got all her soldiers marching in a line anymore.” Even though he was a pediatrician, Doc Nelson was known to make house calls to anyone with an ailment. “If it hadn’t been for Josie Slater keeping an eye on her, Dalma would have probably burned her house down by now.”

  August put Doc on speakerphone before backing out of the driveway. “How’s that?”

  “Josie flips the breaker for the stove when she’s not there and has figured out other ways to keep Dalma mostly safe, but Josie’s too busy helping her dad, and everybody else in the town who asks, to mind after Dalma all the time.”

  “I didn’t know Jo was doing all that.” He glanced at her beach cottage as he passed by, already knowing the white truck wouldn’t be there.

  “Josie Slater collects people in need like a crazy cat lady collects strays, but she won’t let anyone do that for her.”

  “What do you mean?” August reached over and switched the radio off in order to hear the doctor better.

  “Just last winter, she called in and told her dad she was taking some time off and had already scheduled staff to cover her shift. It took Jasper a few days to get his head out of his backside long enough to realize something was up. Come to find out, Josie had the flu. By the time I got over there to check on her, she was on the tail end of it. Ain’t that right sad she’d rather endure the flu by herself than to ‘inconvenience’ anyone, as she put it?”

  “Yeah. Why are you telling me all this?” August parked beside the diner and shut the truck off.

  “Just stating a fact. Another fact being even though she’s tough as a pine knot, it wouldn’t hurt for someone to step up and take care of Josie for a change.” Doc had always kept a close watch on the goings-on of his patients, past and present, so it didn’t surprise August that he had inside facts on Josie.

  He wanted to be there for Josie, but August wasn’t up for sharing all that with the doctor at the moment, so he changed the subject. “Rumor has it you’re retiring?”

  “Rumor has it right for a change.”

  “Wow. What’s this town going to do without you?”

  “Well, it’s not gonna happen for a while yet. But I’ll leave ya in good hands. I have my protégé all lined up to take over. He’s a big-shot doctor from Birmingham. Insists on having the whole place done over before he comes. Prob’ly take a year to get things up to snuff for that young whippersnapper.” He cackled.

  “So you’ll pay a visit to Dalma?”

  “Sure will.” Doc Nelson agreed to stop in later in the day after he closed his office.

  With his mind a little more at ease over Dalma, August thanked Doc before ending the phone call and heading inside the diner.

  9

  Saturdays were always hectic with most locals having the weekends off, which left them plenty of time to enjoy the sunny weather at the beach. Driftwood Diner’s screen door kept a steady rhythm the entire day as folks came in and out. Today’s lunch rush turned out to be more like a sprint than a rush, but Josie didn’t mind. It made the day hurry by and left little room for her mind to wander back to the morning she’d spent at the firehouse. Each time the memory of August tracing her face and saying such romantic things came to mind, her cheeks heated to scalding and she couldn’t help but smile. So, of course, she spent the shift smiling like a blushing loony.

  “You gonna stop daydreaming and take that boy’s order?” Jasper asked close behind Josie, startling her.

  She looked over at the cash register and saw August sitting in the very same spot at the counter as he had the other day. The reaction to puke and then hide wasn’t as strong as last time, but her stomach did the butterfly flutter at the sight of him. He was still dressed in the paint-splattered shirt and jeans from earlier, but his shirt looked damp in a few spots. A few blotches of pink highlighted a section of his dark hair just above his right ear. It made her want to go over and wipe it off, but she managed to stay glued to her spot.

  “Guess I’ll do it.” Jasper grumbled something else underneath his breath that sounded a lot like her needing some “learnings on social etiquette.”

  She scoffed. Imagine a barefoot chef, with a long bushy beard and enough hippie flair that people mistook Opal for his daughter, teaching her anything along the lines of etiquette.

  “Hey there, son. What can I get ya?”

  August’s eyes slid to Jos
ie before settling on her dad. “How about a seafood po’boy and a mess of your homemade chips.”

  “Ain’t it against family code to eat seafood somewhere besides your own family’s restaurant?” Jasper leaned on the counter and seemed to be settling in for a chat.

  “Well, I just found out Nan has another local artist’s work displayed in her office. Seems only fair that I can eat seafood somewhere besides Sunset Seafood House.” August stated that with enough disdain to have Josie squirming in her spot at the other end of the counter.

  Josie knew what art piece he was talking about—the one that captured the inlet just behind the Bradfords’ restaurant that held several childhood memories. She’d given it to Nan as a thank-you for contributing to most of those memories.

  “I wonder if you’d be as bold if your parents were here to hear you being so mouthy.” Jasper jabbed a finger toward August.

  August scoffed with enough tough-guy attitude to have her paying attention. Out of respect, she never stood up to her dad and needed some pointers on the subject.

  With his eyes narrowed and arms crossed, August finally answered, “Not on my life would I try such a mess. Nan Bradford would have me strung up by my toes.”

  Jasper doubled over in such a loud cackle, Josie thought the poor man was close to collapsing.

  August placed his paint-stained hand over his heart in a solemn fashion that had Jasper cutting off his laughter to pay attention. “But I’ve vowed to my family to never, and I do mean never, eat your seafood for supper.” He gave his head a curt nod, sending his dark hair flopping in his eyes and launching Josie’s dad into another fit of boisterous laughter.

  “We ain’t even open for supper!” Jasper had fat tears disappearing into his bearded cheeks by now.

  “My point exactly!” August threw his hands up, still playing it up in all seriousness.

  “You’re a riot, boy.” Jasper took several breaths to regain his composure and headed to the kitchen. “Jo-Jo, get our boy a glass of tea!”