Another Yesterday

by Angela Christina Archer

  “I’m sorry to bring it up again.” Luke finished off his glass of wine and poured another one.

  “No, it’s fine. I guess we didn’t because . . . well, because I couldn’t.”

  Luke’s head jerked, and like him, my honesty even shocked me.

  While I didn’t know if I wanted to continue, I did anyway. “We tried for a while, but when we were unsuccessful, I went to a doctor. He said it wasn’t impossible but was difficult enough we should consider other options. Paul wanted to, but I didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not really sure. I just didn’t want anymore disappointment.” I heaved a deep sigh. “Perhaps that’s why we didn’t work. In the end, he was miserable enough to find someone else. Someone who could give him what he wanted: a baby.”

  “He sounds like a great man.” Luke snorted at his mock.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Well, he was . . . at one time. But then he wasn’t.”

  Luke stared at me for a moment before he grabbed a couple of bowls and scooped several spoonfuls of chili into each one. “Do you want to eat in here or out on the beach?”

  “Oh, um,” I glanced toward the big window in the living room overlooking the sand and sea. The sun had dipped down, and already looked as though it was touching the water. “Actually, the beach sounds good.”

  “Good idea.” He handed me one of the bowls and nodded toward the door. “Let me get the cornbread on a plate and I’ll meet you out there.”

  While the bowl of chili warmed my palms, the sand warmed my feet and the backs of my legs as I sat down. I dug my toes down into the grains, letting the tiny pebbles exfoliate my heels. There was nothing quite like the feel of sand on your skin with its gritty, yet so soft texture and salt smell.

  “Here.”

  As I glanced up, Luke held out a plate, and I grabbed it, setting it down between us. “Looks good.”

  “It’s one of the few things I’ve learned how to do good. The trick is cooking until you get this color of golden brown. Any darker and it’s dry. Any lighter and it crumbles.”

  “I’ll have to get the recipe from you to try, then.”

  I stuck the spoon down into the chili and shoved a bite in my mouth. The flavors of tomato and spices combined with the meat and the beans. Not like any chili I’d ever eaten, although, to be fair, everything I’d ever tried came out of a can.

  I closed my eyes, shoving in another bite.

  “Good, huh?” he asked.

  “I’m going to have to get the recipe for this, too.”

  “You know, I could tell you they are secret family recipes and refuse to give them to you.”

  “But you won’t because then I would have to hurt you.”

  He let out a burst of laughter. “Oh really?”

  “Yep.”

  “I guess you’re right. Fine. You can have them.”

  The sun continued to dip down into the water, sending bright colors of blue and orange across the sky, a perfect night with a great meal.

  “Do you ever stop and wonder why we both left this place?” I asked.

  “I hadn’t. But I guess I could now.”

  “Like, sometimes, I’ll be on the back deck of the inn or like right here, and I’ll think what an utter fool I was to leave.”

  “I think I can understand.”

  “One thing is for certain; I should enjoy the beach more.” I sighed.

  “Yeah? I think you should, too. I come out here pretty much every morning.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Just sit in the sand, drinking my coffee while I watch the sunrise.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I could do that and get breakfast ready for the guest—when I do have them, I mean,” I chuckled. “But I really should take some time every day just to soak it all in.” I set the bowl down into the sand then ran my fingers along the soft pebbles. “I feel like I’ve wasted some of my time here.”

  “How so?”

  “Working and working and working some more.”

  “It’s what you’ve felt as though you needed to do.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s been nothing but a distraction from everything else going on in my life. A distraction from the divorce. A distraction from my dad’s sickness.” I paused, thinking of him. “I just wish he’d let me stay at the hospital.” My eyes misted with tears. “Of course, if I’m wishing then I wish the cancer would go away.”

  “I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this, and he’s having to go through it.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.” As the last of my words spilled out of my mouth, I slapped my hand over my lips. I hadn’t wanted to utter them aloud, much less even think them. Not here. Not tonight. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring the mood down.” My eyes shot up toward the sky and I blinked several dozen times. “Let’s change the subject.”

  “All right. If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.”

  He glanced up and then down the beach, lifting his hand as he pointed. “Do you see the rock right down there? The huge one, sticking out from all the rest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember that rock?”

  I narrowed my eyes as I studied the huge boulder. Flat on one end and bumpy on the other, I recognized the odd shape, and yet, couldn’t place it in my memory.

  “Sort of,” I finally admitted.

  “I don’t know if I should be hurt or not.” He brushed his hand against his chest, pretending to be offended.

  “Wait.” I turned toward the rock once more and then back to him. My mind vaguely remembering a night after a few too many beers before we were actually dating. “Is that thee rock?”

  He nodded. “Thee rock. The one where we shared our first kiss.”

  “You mean the one you nearly knocked me off of it trying to kiss me?”

  “What can I say? I wanted to kiss you.”

  “Yeah, well, you should have worked on your moves beforehand.”

  He blew out a raspberry and waved his hand. “I caught you. You had nothing to worry about.”

  “You know, I have to admit you tripping and knocking me off the top, then only to catch me made me want to kiss you even more.”

  He exhaled a deep breath and leaned back onto his elbows in the sand as though proud of himself. “My plan all along.”

  “Oh, it was not.”

  We both laughed.

  “We spent so much time up here. I can’t believe you live here now,” I said, finishing off the last sip of my wine.

  “I know, right? It was really weird when I bought the place from your dad.”

  “Wait. What?”

  His smiled faded. “This was your dad’s house. His family owned the land and the cabin, and he lived here for a few years until he met your mom. Isn’t that cool? All those years we used to hang out around it, we were actually trespassing on your dad’s land.”

  “But that can’t be.”

  “He signed the papers when I bought it.”

  “But my parents didn’t meet here. My parents met in South Carolina and moved here after they were married and after I was born.”

  “Are you sure? My dad said he lived here and moved into the other house he owned at the edge of town with your mom after they met, married, and then later took over the inn.”

  I squared my shoulders, ignoring the twist in my gut. “But that doesn’t make sense and it doesn’t fit anything they’ve told me.”

  “Huh. That’s odd.”

  “You had to have heard it wrong. Maybe they bought the place after they got here as an investment or something.”

  “That’s not really something my dad could mess up, though,” he said, shaking his head as he finished off his own glass of wine.

  “But it just doesn’t make sense.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  The phone rang several times, kicking back to the receptionist desk for a third time. She answered again. “St. Vincent’s Hosp
ital, reception speaking.”

  “It’s Rachel Grey again. My dad, James Grey in room 307 didn’t answer.” I tapped the pencil on my desk, letting the eraser bounce as I sat in my chair.

  “Maybe you should try back in ten or fifteen minutes. He might still be asleep or with the doctor or even in the restroom.”

  I chewed on the side of my cheek and clicked my tongue. “All right. I’ll do that. Thank you for trying.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A nervous itch ran up my arms and down through my torso to my legs and then to my feet. Where was he? Didn’t he know I needed to talk to him? I had tried him already twice last night after getting home and now again this morning with no luck. I didn’t know how much longer I could wait.

  Bothered by Luke’s words, I tossed and turned so much throughout the night, my mind was nothing more than an exhausted mess. I didn’t want to think about what he’d said about buying the cabin from my dad, and yet, it replayed over and over—drowning out every other thought. How could he have bought the property from my dad if my dad never owned it? And how could my dad have owned it when they didn’t even live here until after I was born?

  They bought the house at the edge of town, not the cabin near the lighthouse. He has to be mistaken. He has to be.

  Without having any luck getting a hold of my dad last night, I even called Nancy. If anyone, other than him could answer my questions, it would be her. Each call I made to her, though, also went unanswered, and I could still hear her ‘sorry we missed your call’ message on her answering machine. Of course, I didn’t want to blurt out my questions for the machine to record so I begged—perhaps to the point of being somewhat of a child—for her just to meet me at the inn in the morning to talk about something. Blabbering messages, I’m sure they made absolutely no sense.

  Nancy’s car rolled through the gravel parking lot and I glanced out the window as she parked in one of the spaces next to Luke’s truck. Already here an hour, he and Charlie were up in the attic, rummaging around—or whatever they called it. I wasn’t really paying much attention. As Nancy climbed out of the sedan, she adjusted her sunglasses, and as she trotted toward the front door of the inn, I spun my chair back around and leapt to my feet, darting out of my office.

  “Where have you been?” I asked as she shut the door behind her.

  “What’s going on? Is James all right?”

  “He’s fine. At least I think so. I haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

  She exhaled a deep breath and laid her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, thank goodness. You had me in such a panic. I didn’t check my messages last night when I got home, so I just got them about ten minutes ago. Look,” she removed her sunglasses, “I didn’t even put any make-up on.”

  As she chuckled under her breath, a loud thump came from the ceiling above.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “Luke and Charlie are up in the attic cleaning or something.” I laid my palm across my forehead. “The reason why I called, though, I’ve got to ask you something.”

  She backed away with her hands up. “Please, let me get some coffee first.”

  “But—”

  “Coffee.”

  Before I could utter another word, she scurried off through the dining room and into the kitchen. I hurried after her.

  “You wouldn’t believe how much fun Evan had with Charlie last night,” she said as I shoved my way through the door behind her. “He’s such a wonderful man. I can’t believe he isn’t married.” She grabbed the coffee pot and fetched a mug from one of the cabinets, filling it. She wiggled her eyebrows. “Of course, I know someone who is happy he isn’t married.”

  “Who?”

  “Apparently, Betty down at the café, has taken quite the liking to him.” Nancy giggled. “She keeps inviting him to come down for breakfast or lunch or even for dinner. I just haven’t figured out how he feels. He doesn’t seem like he’s interested in finding a girlfriend or wife, but you never know.”

  “What makes you think he isn’t?”

  “Just a feeling I get from the things he says. I know I left a mess for you from last night and I’m sorry.” She pointed to the pile of dishes. “It got late, and Evan wanted to take me home.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.”

  “So, what happened last night that spurred three phone calls to my answering machine? Was dinner bad?”

  “No, dinner was fine.”

  “Just fine? Did you have fun?” Before I could answer, she continued. “Did he kiss you?”

  “What? No, he didn’t kiss me. We are just friends.”

  She waved her hand. “I wish you would stop lying to yourself.”

  “Whatever. Listen, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Luke and I were reminiscing about nights we spent around the old cabin and the lighthouse. He said something and it’s been bugging me all night. I barely even slept.”

  “What was it?” She cocked her head to the side as she rested her hand on the counter and leaned on it.

  “He mentioned he bought the cabin near the lighthouse from my dad and that my dad lived in it before he met my mom.”

  She straightened up and cleared her throat. “Oh, he said that?”

  “Surely, he was mistaken, though, right? Because it doesn’t make sense. They always told me they moved here after they were married and I was born, and then they moved into the house at the edge of town and took over the inn a few months later when Helen retired.”

  Nancy dropped her gaze and slid her hand up to the back of her neck, scratching her skin.

  “You would know, right?” I asked. “Did they meet here or in South Carolina?”

  She cleared her throat again. “I think you should probably wait until you can reach James on the phone or go to the hospital and ask him.”

  I jerked my head back, taken aback by her answer. “What do you mean? Why can’t you just tell me?”

  “Because I think James should.”

  “What are you hiding?”

  “I’m not hiding anything. I just think it would be better if your dad answered your questions.”

  “But why?”

  “Because it is.” She pushed off the counter and strode for the door. Her footsteps thumped against the tile floor. “I’m really sorry, Rachel, but I have some important things to do this morning.”

  “Nancy? Nancy, wait.”

  No matter how many times I called after her, she didn’t listen and as I moved toward the door to follow her, her footsteps broke into a trot, followed soon by the front door opening and shutting with a hard slam.

  I stared at the door, which looked out into the dining room, for a good few minutes with my mouth gaped open. Exactly what was I supposed to do with that? Why wouldn’t she just tell me?

  The sudden weight I’d uncovered some secret I shouldn’t have ever known beat down upon my shoulders. Instead of getting answers, I now only had more questions, and they all fed gut-twisting notions something wasn’t right. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  A loud growl rumbled through my chest and I spun around, grabbing one of the dirty pots and throwing it into the sink so I could wash it. I wrenched on the faucet to turn the hot water on and the handle broke off.

  “Crap.”

  Water began to spray me in the face.

  I screamed once, twice, and a third time as a steady stream of water shot all over my hair and chest, drenching me from the top of my head down to my waist. It also sprayed all over the floor and the counter, even splashing on the window above the sink. My shoe slipped on the wet tile and my feet slid out from under me. My butt hit the tile, and I let out one last scream.

  “What the heck?” Luke rushed through the door, his eyes wide as they darted around the room. “Rachel?”

  “Down here. Help!”

  As he rushed over, reaching out for my hand, the water sprayed him too, hitting his face and his chest, soaking his t-shirt.

  “What
the heck happened?” He said, gasping as water went into his mouth.

  “It broke.”

  “What broke?”

  I handed him the handle.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He dove back down to the floor and yanked the cabinet doors open. He climbed inside, shoving bottles of cleaner and boxes of trash bags aside, and after a few seconds the water spray lessened and lessened until it was gone.

  We both sat on the floor, our clothes, hair, and faces dripping while he heaved. “You scared the heck out of me.”

  “How?”

  “Screaming. I was in your office, putting a box I found up in the attic near the desk.”

  “And you heard me?”

  “Yeah, I did.” He wiped his face. “I thought someone was down here with you, hurting you or something.”

  “Well, at least I know you care.” I laughed.

  He stared at me for a moment, his eyebrow arched as though he wondered why I would say such a thing. Realizing I was joking, he smiled and chuckled as he rose to his feet and held out his hand to help me up.

  My shoes slipped a little and I wrapped my arms around him, while he did the same, helping me catch my balance.

  “Thanks for the help.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Although I expected him to let go, he didn’t. And I didn’t either. I glanced up at him, meeting his gaze.

  “I didn’t know we were going to have a wet shirt contest today. If I had, I would have worn white,” he said. His voice was a hair above a whisper.

  “Bum—” Before I could finish my word, his lips pressed against mine. Soft at first, the longer we held each other, the more we both panted. He slid his hands up my neck, grabbing the back of my head. He was the same man I’d remembered all those years ago and we both caved and melted into the movements of the past. I knew him and he knew me. It was as though no time had gone by since the last time we had kissed, all those years ago, as two teenagers.