Driftwood Dreams

by T. I. Lowe

  “Huh?” August sat up and began flipping through the book, astonished at the artwork he’d been carrying around unbeknownst to him. Curious, he pulled another book out of the glove box and found it filled with colorful beauty as well. Eyes focused on a page that should be on display in an art gallery, he leaned over and fished the book from underneath the seat that he’d all but forgotten about. Opening it, he discovered it held hidden art just like the others.

  Placing the books on the seat with a newfound respect for them and the clever little lady who slyly gave them to him, August added another art project to his to-do list.

  “You’re coming over after church, right?” Nan questioned August the next morning as he loaded up in the truck once again. “You know our tradition.”

  He adjusted the phone and cranked the truck. “Yes . . . I may have a guest with me.”

  Nan laughed. “May? Why are you having such a hard time catching this girl? You losing your charm or something?”

  The fresh memory of dancing in the rain with Josie yesterday flickered through his mind, so he knew without a doubt he still had an abundant supply of charm. “Don’t give me a hard time.” He shifted the truck into gear. “Now, let me go so I can be the responsible man you raised me to be and not talk on the phone while driving. Be sure to have the kid ready to hand over.”

  “You’re mouthy today. You better watch it,” Nan scolded.

  August smirked. “Learned from the best. Happy Mother’s Day.” He ended the call before Nan could mouth off at him again.

  He swung by Growler’s Bait and Grocery to pick up a few supplies needed for the day ahead. The store had a small grill that served breakfast and lunch sandwiches and always had a small crowd gathered at the back tables. August inwardly groaned, knowing he had to pass those tables to reach the cooler. Taking a fortifying breath, he hurried past them, but not before a strident voice called out.

  “August Bradford, we know you were taught better manners than to walk by without speaking.” Bertie Matthews tsked. Her ornery sister Ethel sat beside her with two other hens sitting across from them. Paper cups of coffee and sandwich wrappers littered the table. All of the ladies had teased-up bouffants in various hues of purplish gray and were dressed in their Sunday best.

  All of them, that was, except for Dalma, who sat at the end of the table smiling warmly at him. Today’s attire was a pair of black leather pants and a green hunting jacket. After taking a second glance, he caught sight of the camouflage rain boots on her feet. At least the jacket and shoes matched. He tipped his head and grinned at her as he moved by her chair.

  “Good morning, ladies. Sorry, but I’m in a bit of a hurry to make it to church on time.” He tipped his head to the rest of the table, using every bit of the manners he most certainly had but sometimes chose not to pull out. “Y’all having a prayer meeting before Sunday school?” From their narrowed eyes, he knew they caught his jab. Some folks liked to dress up their gossiping by calling it “prayer requests,” but August just called it uncouth.

  Bertie waved his condescending comment off with a flick of her wrinkly hand. “How’s Josie Slater doing?”

  Ah, the ole gal had her own subtle way of making a jab. Too bad for her and the other hens he wasn’t in the mood to take it. Instead, he slid the cooler door open and grabbed two cases of Cokes. The mini glass bottles were his crowd’s favorite.

  “I heard you two have been spending a lot of time together,” another hen clucked, but he couldn’t recall her name.

  Again, he pretended no one had spoken to him. He set the soda on the counter and rushed over to the snack aisle for packs of square crackers, packs of peanuts, and snack cakes. Derek was supplying the sandwiches, so August was pretty sure he had all he needed to complete the picnic lunch. He grabbed a few tubs of bait from another cooler and set it all down on the counter.

  “I’ll need two bags of ice,” he said to the cashier as the older gentleman rang him up. August leaned over the counter and swiped a paper sack to hurry the process along by bagging his own supplies.

  “That girl ain’t ever going to leave her daddy’s side,” Ethel commented from her post beside her sister. “Not even for some highfalutin artist as yourself.”

  Heat crawled up August’s neck as he handed over the money to the man behind the register. He knew good and well they were just goading him into speaking, but it still stung that they knew right where to aim. Those two sisters liked to play good cop and bad cop. Bertie tried wiggling information out with a kind smile and sugary sweet comments. Ethel would scowl and snap off words like an irritated bulldog.

  Once he was sure he had himself in check, August slowly turned toward the nosy women. “I’m sorry, ladies. I didn’t hear you.” Bertie opened her mouth, but he spoke over her. “Oh, did y’all hear about that estranged couple expecting a baby?”

  It was the first thing to pop into his head, but it was mighty effective. All four of their denture-wearing mouths went to flapping in the manner of a starving fish. Dalma continued grinning and gave him a subtle wink. Despite being called the flighty one of the group, August considered her the wisest. With the hook set, August grinned wide, picked up his bags, and moseyed out the door. A bevy of shouted questions followed him outside.

  “Who?”

  “What couple?”

  “They live here for very long?”

  “August Bradford, you better get back here!”

  Chuckling to himself, he made quick work of loading the cooler in the bed of his truck, hoping that they didn’t have time to round up their canes and charge out the door.

  Shortly after, he pulled up to the church and parked beside Nan and Derek. As he stepped out of the truck, his family began piling out of the SUV, but his eyes were on the youngest member.

  “Are you ready to go to Sunday school, Zachary?” August offered his hand, and the little guy took it and began pulling them both in the direction of the church building.

  Derek narrowed his eyes at August as they passed by. “I’m not sure how I feel about you using my kid to get in the door.”

  “The boss already okayed it,” August said over his shoulder and gave his dad a mischievous wink, causing the crowd he loved dearly to laugh. He bent slightly and asked Zachary, “You got any pointers for me about class?”

  “Raise your hand if you got a question. And use a tissue, not your finger. Miss Josie keeps a box in our room.”

  It took a minute for the last part to make sense, but when it did, August chuckled. “Good advice, little man.”

  Zachary scrunched his nose. “I always use a tissue.”

  17

  Josie busied herself with setting out craft kits on the long rectangular table in front of each chair, but her thoughts were still tangled in the unexpected time she had spent at the firehouse. After dancing a good portion of the day away yesterday until both she and August were a freezing soggy mess, she went home and warmed in a hot shower. That warmth stayed with her the rest of the day as she came to terms with a few things.

  For one, she needed to openly grieve her mom more often rather than just keeping it bottled up inside. For another, August Bradford was an exceptional dancer and friend. And the kicker of it all was that she was absolutely falling for him. The nervous crush that had begun in high school was developing into something much more mature. And as scary as that was, it felt right.

  She had just delivered a pair of scissors to a kit on the table and turned to retrieve more when she halted. Standing at the door in a white button-down shirt and navy trousers was the man who was stealing more than just moments from her.

  “Good morning,” she managed to say without stuttering.

  “Morning, Miss Josie. Can my brother come to class with me? I went over the rules with him already. He’ll behave, I promise.” Zachary nodded his head adamantly.

  She looked at Zachary and found him similarly dressed to August, but his chocolate curls had been tamed down while his older brother’s black hai
r was styled in perfect disarray. “I could always use another helper. As long as he behaves.” She smiled at them both as a few more children skirted around them to take seats at the table.

  “Great. Just let me know how I can help.” August’s warm smile was so open and welcoming that Josie had to refrain from leaning over for a hug.

  She moved away to put some distance between them for good measure. As soon as the table was filled with four- and five-year-olds, she introduced the new addition to the class. “Today I have a helper. This is Mr. August.”

  A chorus of “Hey, Mr. August,” rang out.

  His smile broadened as his deep voice boomed out a reply. “Good morning.”

  Josie didn’t think the guy could pull off talking in a low tone if his life depended on it. The timbre of his voice was like a rich cup of cocoa on a chilly night. One you just wanted to savor. She dismissed those silly romantic notions before getting too sidetracked by them and focused on her students. Each one was dressed to the nines and their hair combed neatly.

  “Today is a special day to celebrate, so let’s open with prayer and then we will get started.” As soon as Josie said this, each little head bowed without being told a second time. She prayed and then launched into instructing them on how to form a flower out of the tissue paper. As she showed them with the prepared samples, Josie explained how God had created them just as he created the seeds that formed the flowers. She went on to tell them that their mother’s love and nurturing helped them bloom into the individuals God created them to be.

  August listened intently, nodded his head at certain points she made, and helped anyone who needed it. She was impressed that he never took over the lesson or the craft project.

  As the last child exited with a colorful bouquet, Josie walked over to where August was collecting the scissors and placing them in a container. “You were a great helper, sir.”

  August looked up and smiled. “Glad I could be of assistance, ma’am.”

  Josie collected a handful of paper scraps and tossed them into the trash. “I think I’ve decided on my favor.”

  He looked over at her. “Oh yeah?”

  “I’d like your assistance on Sundays.”

  “I’d be honored . . . but now I need to ask yet another favor.” His expression turned thoughtful.

  Josie shook her head. “That’s not how this favor thing is supposed to work.”

  “Yeah . . . I don’t like doing things the way people expect. There’s no fun in that.” His mouth curved up on one side.

  Josie snickered. “Okay, then. What favor do you need in return for returning your favor to me?”

  August stood up straight and looked baffled for a moment but then impressed. “First off, I must commend you for getting that complex question out correctly. I do believe you’ve worked the knots out of that tongue of yours finally.” He winked teasingly before growing serious. “As for my favor, you have to agree or I may not make it through the day.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. It involves Nan and me going head-to-head. She can be scary when she needs to be, and today I’m scared.”

  “No. I think today you’re being just a tad bit dramatic.”

  “Just say you’ll do me this solid and help me out.”

  Josie hesitated. “What if I have another favor I need in return for returning your returned favor?”

  August chuckled. “Anything. You earned it after those two sentences in a row.”

  “I’d really like to help you finish the projects at camp.”

  He dipped his chin. “Done. Now let’s get into worship service before people start wondering where we’re at.” Without hesitating, he entwined their hands and walked Josie into the sanctuary.

  An hour or so after church, Josie found herself on a sandbank in the middle of nowhere, eating a ham sandwich, with Zachary sitting beside her on the beach towel. The afternoon was sunny and warm, and that usually had a calming effect on her, but not today. She took another bite of her sandwich and watched guardedly as August and Nan bickered about which fishing pole belonged to whom.

  Josie leaned toward her towel companion and asked, “Do we have to do this? I don’t think it’s safe.” She glanced at Zachary, thinking he looked too cute in his fishing hat and colorful life jacket.

  “That’s why my partner is Daddy. We stay out of their way.” Zachary took another bite just as Nan tossed a dip net into the inlet, sending August running after it.

  “Playing dirty is the only way you can win?” August shouted at Nan as he waded out of the water with the dip net.

  “And you messing with my pole ain’t dirty?” Nan landed her hands on her hips and glared at him. The spitfire was casually dressed in a baggy pair of navy cargo cutoffs and a tank top with a ratty trucker hat shoved low on her head, but boy, did she look intimidating.

  Just as Josie finished the last bite of her sandwich, August walked over with the dripping wet net and thrust it in her direction. She took it with a good bit of apprehension. “What?”

  “This is my lucky net. You’re in charge of it today, partner. Don’t let Nan anywhere near it.” August’s chin jerked up before he headed over to his tackle box and fishing pole. He was being genuinely serious, but it was hard for her to take him that way. Gone were the nice dress clothes from earlier and in their place were board shorts, a brightly colored T-shirt saying Got Art? across the front, and a floppy boonie hat.

  As everyone scurried around, Josie noticed that Derek and Tucker gave August and Nan a good bit of space. Apparently, they were wise to the situation at hand. Josie wished she’d been wise enough to it earlier to have declined returning the favor.

  It was briefly explained to her about the flounder fishing competition. This year Josie was the lucky one to be partnered with August. Tucker would be with Nan, while Derek and Zachary would partner. Whoever caught the most flounder would have the meal prepared and cooked for them while they got to laze on the beach the remainder of the day. The losers had to clean and fry the fish and prepare the fixings.

  “Let’s go!” Nan shouted while loading up in the flat-bottomed boat.

  “Just be glad there’s a time limit,” Derek told Josie as they headed over to the boat. “The pain of watching those two go at it only lasts two hours max.”

  “Good to keep in mind, I suppose.” What have I gotten myself into? With a long sigh, Josie climbed in for the craziest fishing trip of her life.

  Derek made good with his promise of only two hours, and that was more than enough time for the shenanigans. By the time they had the boat reloaded and were heading back to the Bradford beach house, Josie was still in tears.

  “It ain’t funny.” August huffed as he pulled his truck in behind Derek’s.

  “It kinda is.” Josie threw his comment from a few days ago at him as she wiped her eyes and took in the waterlogged, fuming man while he steered the truck with a good bit of force.

  August slung the truck into park. “She cheated and pushed me off the boat. Now we have to clean a cooler full of fish and cook them. You shouldn’t be laughing.”

  “It’ll be okay. I’ve cleaned my fair share of fish at the diner. We’ll get through this.” Josie giggled. One thing she’d learned for certain in those two hours: Nan Bradford was not a woman to be fooled with. She’d watched with caution as Nan messed with August’s pole or hid his bait or accidentally knocked him into the water a time or two. At one point the son and mother went at it in a round of chase, jostling the boat every which way. “It’s a wonder we caught any fish at all with how wild you two were being.”

  August grumbled something under his breath and climbed out of the truck. Even in his soggy, aggravated mood, he didn’t forget his manners as he hurried around and opened the door for Josie.

  By the time August had changed into a set of dry clothes, his mood had brightened, and Josie found cleaning fish to be quite enjoyable for the first time. She shared a few tips of the trade on how to fillet the flound
er and even whipped up her dad’s secret dredge for the fish. Once they had them fried to a golden brown and the table set, two surprise visitors walked up the steps of the deck to join the Bradford family.

  “Dad! Miss Dalma!” Josie stood and offered Jasper a hug, feeling the gathering was complete all at once by their arrival.

  Jasper wrapped her in his signature bear hug. “I heard there’s some fresh fish I need to sample.” He grinned at Derek.

  “Only seemed fair since your daughter is sharing your recipes with the local competition.” Derek stood and pulled out a chair on the other end of the table and gestured for Jasper to take a seat.

  “She better not.” Jasper scoffed playfully.

  “I brought a Jell-O salad,” Dalma interrupted, holding up a plastic container filled with something red, but Josie instantly knew there wasn’t anything sweet and tasty inside it.

  “I’ll take that,” Josie offered, but before she could, Dalma pried the lid off and made a face.

  “I think it’s gone bad.” Dalma sniffed the gelatinous mixture again and was about to stick a spoon into it, but Josie stopped her in the nick of time.

  “This is stink bait.” Josie quickly put the lid on and handed it off to August to put away. The stench would only ruin everyone’s appetite for the feast set before them.

  “Well, that’s the darnedest thing. I’ll have to have a talk with them at the grocery store. No sense in putting stink bait in the salad cooler.” Dalma scoffed and settled into a chair, looking as baffled as the group gathering around the table. “That’s just asking for it.”

  “She was at Growler’s this morning,” August answered, clearing up the confusion.

  After a few blinks and quietly mumbled ohs, everyone let it go and began passing the tea pitcher.

  “Looks like the flounder were biting good today,” Jasper commented after taking a healthy swig of tea.