“But are you—”
“Go back inside and sit by the darlin’ man who I think likes ya more than ya realized and have fun.” I gave her a hug, squeezin’ her tight. “If he tries to kiss ya, let him. Don’t think about it, just let him, and don’t forget to come by tomorrow to tell me all about the fun ya had.”
“I will. I promise. Oh, how about we meet at the café for pancakes.”
“I’ll do ya one better. Helen’s famous waffles on the beach.”
“Ooooh, with whipped cream?”
“Gobs of it.”
She gave me another hug then pressed her forehead into mine. “You know you’re like my best friend, right?”
“I know.”
“And I just want you to find happiness.”
I moved away from her, archin’ an eyebrow. “Well, I’m certainly not going to find it with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum in there.”
“No, I don’t think you are either.” She laughed for a moment then smiled. “But you might with someone else.”
I pointed my finger at her. “Just stop.”
She held up her hands like Brad did not but a few minutes ago. “All right. All right. I was just mentioning it, but I won’t again.” She winked. “Maybe.”
“Go!”
She giggled as she spun and trotted back inside Moe’s. The sound of the jukebox starting over the crowd was loud while the door opened and then softened when it shut.
The moon shone high above my head as I walked down the street back to the inn, its bright white glow like a beacon in a blanket of black velvet. My only source of light and it sat amongst thousands and thousands of twinklin’ stars. While I’d seen the stars before, it wasn’t like Shadow Brook. The lack of streetlights or lights from dozens and dozens of apartment or house windows of the city opened the sky up like a canvas, making each of them, no matter how huge or tiny, stand out.
The air was crisp, but not chilling to the bone. It was a coolness I welcomed, enjoyin’ the energy it brought as though it wanted to make me feel alive and, even dare I say, content.
Tonight had me questionin’ the rest of my life more than I cared to admit, and while I still wasn’t ready to face the answers, I knew I would have to.
Eventually.
By the time I made it to the inn, the stress of the night had melted away. The only things I wanted were a glass of iced tea, the back-porch swing, and Rachel. Two of which I actually ended up with, after being told by a sympathetic Helen that Rachel had gone to bed early and was blissfully dreamin’ away in her crib upstairs.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked, settin’ a glass of tea down on the table beside the swing. “An extra blanket, maybe?”
“Nah, I’m good with this one. If I need another, I will fetch it myself.”
She gave a nod before retreatin’ back inside, leavin’ me alone once more.
Like the walk home, the air chilled my skin, but in a refreshed way, crisp and clean. Wrapped up in a thin blanket, I sat listenin’ to the crickets’ chirp in the bushes as the moonlight glowed down upon the ocean waves lappin’ the sandy beach. Like the flash of a camera, they would glisten for a moment before turnin’ black again, allowin’ the one behind it, its moment to shine. Flash. Flash. Flash. They rolled in like a light bulb turning off and on, off and on.
For a moment I thought of my classes in college. The lessons I’d studied on the fundamentals of photography. It’d been so long since I’d even held a camera in my hand—especially the one still sittin’ in a box in the back of my car.
I hadn’t thought of that box in awhile. Hadn’t wanted to. While I knew I should move it, I also didn’t want to even touch it. Not yet, at least. Full of my hand-written journals and love letters from him, I wasn’t ready to face them.
Would I ever be ready, though?
Doubtful.
But that didn’t mean I shouldn’t. Of course, I could just get the camera and leave the other stuff. Why face it if I didn’t have to? Besides, Rachel was only gettin’ older and the thought of not havin’ pictures of her grated against my conscience.
“Beautiful night out tonight,” a voice said behind me.
I jumped, twistin’ around to find James standin’ there. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What did ya think would happen if ya just started talkin’ to someone who didn’t know ya were there?”
“I guess you’re right. My fault.” He moved around the swing to a pair of beach chairs. “Mind if I join you?”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
“I thought you had plans with Nancy to go to the bonfire tonight.”
“I did.”
“So why are you here?”
“Funny. I could ask ya the same question.”
He dropped his gaze, a smile spread across his face. “That’s fair.” He exhaled a deep breath. “I was just finishing up a nice dinner.”
“Ya eat here a lot, ya know that right?”
“Well, I wasn’t aware that was a problem.”
“It’s not. I . . . I don’t know why I said that.”
“So, are you going to answer my question?” He slid down into the beach chair, lettin’ out a deep sigh.
“I just wanted to come back to the inn. Nancy and Evan seemed like they needed some time alone.”
“But won’t they be in a crowd?”
“Well, yes, but they could still go off by themselves. I know they both like each other, and I didn’t want to get in the way.” I adjusted the blanket around my shoulders, tightenin’ it as I pushed off the ground with my foot, sendin’ the swing to drift back and forth.
“I’m sure there would be other people there you could talk to. Maybe a couple of young men who would enjoy the pleasure of your company.” He moved his eyebrows up and down.
“Ha. Ha.”
“Uh oh. Does that mean not a single guy in Shadow Brook has captured your attention, Miss Wilson?”
“It’s Mrs.” The correction spewed out of my mouth before I could stop myself and the heaviness of my reaction silenced me for a second. “Um, I mean, it was. But it’s not anymore so you’re right, I guess it is Miss.”
His smile vanished. “Forgive me. I didn’t know you were married.”
“I’m not. At least not anymore, and no apology is needed. You didn’t know. It’s not like I’ve told ya much about me.”
He waved his hand and cleared his throat. “We all have our secrets and our reasons for keeping them. No need to tell anyone anything we don’t want to.”
“And what secrets do ya have?”
His lips twitched and a smile returned to them. “Didn’t I say we also had our reasons for keeping them?”
I laughed. “I suppose ya did.”
He studied me for a moment then looked at his hands, flippin’ them over as though checkin’ his skin for somethin’. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me, but I was married once myself. My wife passed away, though, a few years ago, so it wasn’t a divorce type of thing.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
He nodded though he still focused on his hands. “I may be older than you, but I know what it’s like to not fit in. To be different. To have experiences—both good and bad—that no one else around you has had yet in their lives.”
“Seems awful to think about. Like I don’t want Nancy to think I’m not her friend or we can’t spend time together or do fun things.”
“But you have a responsibility she doesn’t have.”
“Exactly.”
Our eyes locked.
Finally, someone around me knew what I felt. Someone around me knew the pain, knew the sorrow, and knew the loss. Someone around me had been on the very same path I was walkin’ down.
Although I craved his presence, it also scared the hell out of me.
“Those people that came to the rental house,” he said, “they are her parents. While my family owns the land around the lighthouse, she owned the land where the ren
tal house sits. I designed it and built it for her, and they believe they should own it.”
“Why? Because it was hers?”
“Yes.”
“But if ya were married the land became yours.”
“That’s what my lawyers are telling them. They just are having a hard time believing it. I think they think if they fight me, I’ll give up and give in.” He heaved a deep sigh as he leaned back in the chair and rested his hands behind his head. “Maybe I should. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the fight.”
“If it’s rightfully yours then I believe anythin’ is worth the fight.”
He snorted and smiled, givin’ me a wink. “You know, you’re right.”
“But, if ya do decide to let them have it, could ya let Nancy and me know?”
He leaned forward once again, starin’ me in the eyes. “That’s one reason I don’t want to give it to them.”
“Because of the income?”
“Because it helps you . . . and Rachel.”
We both fell silent, and while I didn’t know his reason for sayin’ nothin’—perhaps he too became lost in thought like me—I knew mine. I’ve tried long and hard to ignore the gut feelin’ his kindness went beyond the simple gestures of someone bein’ nice. I also tried to ignore how safe I felt around him, how protected and cared for. Not only for me, but for Rachel—a little girl who needed him far more than her momma did.
I thought of the events of the night—the new buddin’ relationship I saw emergin’ like a butterfly from its cocoon, the crowds enjoyin’ Moe’s, young men and women chattin’ and flirtin’, each one with hopes and dreams of their own—whether they were of future dates, kisses stolen under the stars, or perhaps even marriage. Their love lives full of unknown.
And then there were the two young men who jaded the entire evenin’ with their assumptions of me.
“I didn’t fit in,” I said, more for myself, but instead of sayin’ it in my head, I said it out loud.
“What do you mean, you didn’t fit in?”
“I didn’t belong there tonight. There I was, surrounded by people my own age, and yet, I didn’t fit in. I knew people would think what they would about me and how I have a daughter at nineteen. Who wouldn’t? Even Nancy’s mother, Claire, thought ill of a young girl without a husband but with a child. But then to have those guys ask me . . . to hear them say the words.”
“What did they say?”
“It’s nothin’ important, really.”
“Obviously, it is if you’re thinking about it and letting it bother you.”
“No, it’s not botherin’ me. It’s just hittin’ me, I suppose. I’m not in the same place as Nancy. I’m not in the same place as any of the people here who are my age.”
“And is that a problem?”
“No. I guess it’s really not. It doesn’t make me want to leave or anythin’. Nothin’ really would—or could—make me do that. As odd as it is to say, I actually feel like I’m finally home here.”
“If it’s home, shouldn’t you fit in?”
“It’s not home because of the people. Well, some of them, maybe. Others are a different story. Nancy is home. Helen is home. This inn is home.”
“And me?” He arched one eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “Am I home?”
ELEVEN
Rachel
July 1996
“Home,” I whispered.
For most people the road of self-discovery is a brutal, lifelong struggle. Not everyone succeeds. And for those who believe they do, they can have the rug pulled right out from under them, shocking them with the reality they believed wrong. In an instant, all can crumble in front of you, leaving you gasping for breath and lost in a world you thought you knew like the back of your hand. The map to your life now torn to shreds and the dreams shattered until you’re left spinning in a circle, looking at everything around you that now felt so foreign it stole your breath.
Once, long ago, I thought I’d never leave the tiny town of Shadow Brook. However in one one whirlwind night and after a huge fight with my mother, I packed my bags and fled, never looking back to see the damage I caused. It wasn’t because I didn’t love the town or my parents. I just didn’t know if I wanted their lives, which was the exact path I was headed down.
And it scared the heck out of me.
While I knew some day I would have to come home for a visit, in the back of my mind I always thought I could delay the inevitable. Finding excuses was never my problem. I could make them up with a snap of my fingers thanks to my job or Paul’s job, and just like that, I had ward off the trip so many times. However, I couldn’t ward off this. Shoved into this choice, I barely had time to breathe, much less comprehend what was going on or exactly how I now found myself driving down the one street where my youth suddenly seemed to play out before me.
I’d walked or rode my bike down this very road so many times, I could picture it with my eyes closed. Like a broken record that just kept spinning and spinning even though it skipped. Distant laughter echoed through my ears—my laughter, when my youth was carefree and full of dreams and fun times with my girlfriends. With the world at my fingertips, I thought nothing could stand in my way or stop me from doing anything and everything I wanted.
I drove past Moe’s Lobster Shack, and the quaint—and oddly slanted—seaside restaurant with its bright blue wood siding and shake roof brought back so many memories. Like the smell of seafood so strong one might think it would cause someone to get sick. It didn’t, though. Instead, it made my stomach growl.
A favorite hangout through my high school years, my friend, Bridget, and I used to eat so many lobster rolls, Dad used to joke I’d become one. Of course, while known for the delicious lobster, Moe was also known for his unusual lack of soda variety. So, with wrapped hoagies in hand, we’d dash across and up the street to Jerry’s general store and gas station for whatever sugary drink we wanted to dazzle our taste buds with. Refreshments taken care of, we’d often park our rumps on the street corner, watching the popular high school boys tinker with whatever was broken under the hood in Jerry’s shop around the corner. Shirtless in the summer, their tanned bodies brought giggles to our lips and pinkness to our cheeks—one in particular, more than any of the rest, Luke Dawson.
I fidgeted in my seat thinking about the last time I looked upon Luke’s face. While it should have been a fond memory, it wasn’t. Far from it, actually, and it was the reason I left town as soon as I could pack my bags.
A block down the road from Moe’s, I passed the bright yellow and purple painted building of Shoreline Flower and Gifts. Owned by my mother’s best friend Nancy, the store was just as crazy on the inside as it was on the outside. Full of odd trinkets that bewildered, and yet, excited the senses with scented lotions, bright bouquets, and everything from off-the-rocker handbags to one-of-a-kind shoes that you wouldn’t find anywhere else in the world—an eccentric place that matched the peculiar owner with her thick Boston accent and fierce loyalty to my family. I had called her Aunt Nancy for more years than not.
Noticing the large CLOSED sign hanging on the front door, my foot leaned a little more on the gas pedal, propelling the vehicle faster down the road and down to the inn.
Set along a perfect stretch of beach, the 1308 Brook House Inn had been the heart of Shadow Brook for nearly eighty years. It had also been my solace for nearly nineteen of them. Looking upon the old place now, a hint of home whispered through my veins.
But it wasn’t my home.
New York was. No matter how uncomfortable I’ve felt there these last several months, no matter how alone I felt, and no matter how I was cast aside for another like I wasn’t significant enough to the one who had promised to love and cherish me until my death. I suppose forever turned out to be too long for him.
After parking the car, I wheeled my bags down the wood-planked walkway through the sand dunes. Seagulls cawed along the shoreline as the salty sea air whipped through my chocolate strands and
the sun blinded me even through my sunglasses. Sights and sounds of my youth I knew like the back of my hand, and yet, I’d been away from for so long, they almost felt foreign. As did the moans from the creaking wood under my feet as I opened the door and crossed through the threshold.
“Hello?” I called out, dropping my luggage near the front desk. “Anyone here?”
No one answered.
I spun in a few circles before moving into the dining room. Covered by large sheets, the tables and chairs stood stacked against the far wall, leaving the room with an empty feeling that twisted in my stomach. Almost lifeless, it was as though the place had died with my mother. Once full of guests on a daily basis, the room gave nothing more than a haunted feeling as my shoes clicked against the dark-stained, hardwood floors. Through the dim light of a few lit sconces on the walls, dust covered pictures hanged on the walls and the green and maroon worn wallpaper was torn in a few places and peeling in others.
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
Dishes clanked from the kitchen while a voice whispered from behind the swinging door separating the two rooms—someone chatting to another or perhaps themselves while busy with chores.
“Hello?” I called out again.
“I’ll be right there,” a woman called out.
As my hand pushed against the swinging door, it opened, and Nancy looked upon me with red, puffy eyes.
“Rachel, is that you?” She leapt for me. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she drew me into a tight embrace. “Oh my stars, I haven’t seen you in forever. What’s it been seven, eight years?”
Nearly eleven. “Something like that.”
The tall, thin woman released me, stepping away as she grabbed my hands in hers and outstretched our arms to the side. “Let me have a look at you. You’re all grown up, aren’t you? City life has been good to you too.
“Yes, it has.” I lied.
“Oh, I’m so glad you are here. Your mother would be happy, too, if she was still with us. God rest her soul. She always knew how important your career was, but she missed you so much.”
Another Yesterday Page 11
