The Abalone Shell

by Suzie O'Connell

  She paused before she slid in behind the wheel of her car, bracing her hands above the driver-side door as the old rabbit heart rate threatened and breathing suddenly became a struggle. She couldn’t seem to draw air deep enough into her lungs to satisfy them. Arching her back, she inhaled as deeply as she could and blew it out with her lips pursed, staring at the cirrus clouds drifting lazily across the sky.

  Finally, she got in her car and started the engine.

  “Are you all right?” Owen asked so quietly she barely heard him.

  She glanced at him as she backed out of the cottage’s driveway. “I will be soon enough.”

  He frowned, clearly wanting to say something else, but he looked away. His concern was touching, and she was glad her daughter had asked to invite him to dinner last night. She had no hope of naming exactly what it was about him that so enchanted her, but he had the opposite effect on her that her ex-husband had. Where Dan elicited anxiety, Owen soothed it. She might think it was the losses he’d suffered, but Dan had known plenty of his own, and from the sounds of it, Owen had known at least a few of the abuses Dan had known as a child, too. So what was it that made him so different?

  Those thoughts occupied her mind all the way down to the parking area, but for all her pondering, she couldn’t answer the question. With the sun shining brightly and her daughter bouncing in place, she decided it didn’t matter right now. Right now it was enough to enjoy a stunning day at the beach with her daughter and their charming neighbor.

  The tide was retreating down the beach, and they decided to build sand castles first and hunt for shells and sea glass later. Because Owen was the more experienced sand castle builder, she let him take command, hunting down the objects he and Daphne asked her to find to add to their delightfully whimsical castle. After she’d collected enough to satisfy her daughter’s artistic demands, Hope sat and curled her toes into the cool, damp sand.

  When Daphne had mastered the technique for packing the sand in the buckets, Owen retreated to a driftwood log nearby with Hope and let the girl continue work on the castle by herself.

  “Feeling better yet?” he asked softly enough that Daphne wouldn’t be able to hear him over the surf.

  “Not as much as I should be.”

  “I’m probably stepping far beyond my place, and I apologize for eavesdropping, but if a phone call was enough to make you so anxious, what’s going to happen if he comes out here for a visit?”

  She’d known him barely twenty-four hours and she’d kept her secrets and her hurts so close to her heart for so long that the part of her still beholden to old habits shied away from his inquiry. But she wanted to tell him. His quiet, unassuming nature invited her to trust him in a way Dan’s mood swings and intensity never had.

  “More of the same,” she replied. “But we have a daughter together, and I’m going to have to learn how to hold my ground with him.”

  “What went wrong? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I got tired of trying to be strong for all of us when he’s determined to sabotage himself. I couldn’t fix someone who wouldn’t help fix himself, and it was destroying me.”

  The way he gazed at her with sympathy emanating from those kind green eyes….

  A lump formed in her throat, and she tried to swallow it as her eyes tingled. She had to look away. She wanted to tell him how it hurt her to think she’d failed her husband and that she was struggling to admit that Dan’s issues—and his inability to overcome them—weren’t her burden to own, but the words stuck in her throat, tangled with the unshed tears.

  He reached over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears. It was a simple, unconscious gesture that was anything but to her. He searched her face, and she found it odd that she was the one needing a shoulder to lean on. Lord almighty, the man had lost his wife and son. What was a divorce compared to that?

  “How did losing them not break you?” she blurted.

  He turned his gaze out over the ocean, and the muscle in his jaw worked. “It came close, believe me.”

  Eyes wide, she traced every line of his face. There were traces of grief, but they were faint, outshined by the fondness he had for his family. After a moment, he met her gaze again, and his features gentled.

  “I’m not in danger of breaking into a million pieces anymore, Hope. I will always miss them, but I’ve reached a point that I can focus on the good times now without the grief overshadowing them. And when I reached it, that’s when I was finally able to take my ring off and let them go.”

  “But—”

  “There’s no but. Nothing can bring them back, and forgetting that I’m still alive is a poor way to honor their memory, don’t you think?”

  She nodded. “How did you do it? How did you get to that point?”

  “I had a strong support system here, namely two very strong-willed and big-hearted women. Something I suspect you haven’t had through your divorce.”

  That was the truth. Her parents were in Washington, her brother was in California, her best friends were scattered all over Montana and Washington, and she and Dan had moved so many times since they’d graduated college that they hadn’t had a chance to build the kind of lasting local friendships she could’ve relied on. And he’d inadvertently driven a wedge between her and the few she’d managed to find along the way.

  She wrapped her hands around the back of her neck and let out a growl of frustration. She had to stop thinking like this. It was ruining a beautiful day and her daughter’s first experience with the beach and the ocean.

  As she mulled over Owen’s words and wondered how she could get herself to the point that she could look back on her marriage with detachment from the bad and appreciation for the good, a thought occurred to her. She dropped her arms and jerked her head toward him.

  “Why us?” she asked.

  “Why you what?”

  “Last night you said you haven’t been on a date or even to dinner with a woman … so why us? Why Daph and me?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in an adorable, lopsided grin. “Don’t know yet. But you can bet I’m curious to find out.”

  The non-answer should’ve annoyed her, but it didn’t. Instead, it made her laugh, and as amusement and what felt a lot like joy rippled through her, she decided she didn’t care why. “So, we’re going to wing it and see what happens?”

  “Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” she said, laughing a little more, “it does.”

  “And speaking of fun, it looks like your daughter has finished her masterpiece.”

  Masterpiece was exactly the right term for it. Daphne had decorated her castle with the shells and glass and pebbles Hope had brought, and it was a beautiful mosaic of blues, greens, and whites. She’d also added a guarding wall and dug a moat. Hope commended her daughter’s project, and together, the three of them raced down to the water’s edge with buckets to fetch water for the moat. As that task devolved into an all-out splash fest, Hope felt the last dregs of the anxiety slip away. This was what life was supposed to be about—the simple pleasures.

  “I don’t know how involved you want to get in the community while you’re here,” Owen said when they’d worn themselves out and retreated to the higher beach, “but I’m hoping you might join me for the annual Fun Run. It’s this Saturday and raises money for the schools.”

  “What’s the entry fee?”

  “Twenty-dollars, but I’ll pay for us all. It’s only fair, since I’m the one doing the inviting.”

  “Does that count as a date?”

  “You bet.”

  “And today? And dinner last night? Do those count as dates, too?”

  “Absolutely. And dinner at my place Friday night when I get back from Mendocino. Unless you don’t want them to.”

  She grinned. “I do, actually. What’s in Mendocino?”

  “A cousin’s art gallery. I need to take her some more of my sea glass creations to display and sell. I leave first th
ing in the morning tomorrow, and I won’t get back until Friday afternoon.”

  “And you think you’re going to be up for cooking after driving all that way?”

  “Yep. So… we’re on for Friday and Saturday?”

  She beamed. “It’s a date. Or two, rather.”

  Six

  Owen settled his groceries on the counter and went through the motions of putting them away. Deciding he could bring his overnight bag in from the truck later, he wandered into the living room and sank into his recliner. He tipped his head back and let his eyes drift closed.

  He’d forgotten how long the twelve-hour drive down to Mendocino was. Even with the day off in between to rest and visit with his cousin, he was bone-tired. Why had he thought he’d have the energy to cook dinner for Hope and Daphne tonight?

  As soon as he thought of calling them to reschedule, his dismissed the idea. He would find the energy. Somehow. Because he’d missed them both more than he could’ve imagined over the last three days. He’d missed them enough that his cousin, whom he saw only four or five times a year anymore, had noticed his distraction and asked if she’d get to meet the woman and her daughter who had snagged his attention. He hoped she would keep to her promise and not mention it to his mother and sister.

  A knock sounded on his front door, and he opened one eye to check the clock on the wall behind the TV. It was five-thirty already? He pushed himself out of his recliner with a grunt and scrubbed his hands through his hair as he trudged to the door.

  As soon as he opened it, joy seeped through him, bolstering him.

  Without hesitation, Daphne wrapped her arms around his waist, and he bent over to return her hug. Straightening, however, took some effort, and her mother noticed.

  Hope glanced over him with sympathy softening her expression. “No offense, but you look exhausted.”

  “I am, but that’s okay. It’s good to see you two again.”

  “If you want to reschedule, we’ll understand.”

  “I don’t. Come on in.”

  He closed the door behind them and followed them into the living room. He gave them a quick tour. Like Hope’s family’s cottage, his house was decorated artistically with nautical elements and graced with numerous windows and a stunning view of the cove and the ocean, but it was larger—three bedrooms upstairs instead of two, one full bath downstairs and another upstairs, and a kitchen that was easily twice the size and far more modern. That last feature was his favorite, and he liked that it seemed to be Hope’s, too.

  “I planned to have dinner going by the time you two came over,” Owen said as he pulled out the ingredients for his mother’s famous fish and chips, “but I only got home about thirty minutes ago. The drive took longer than I expected.”

  “You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Hope replied. She winked. “So long as you let me help.”

  “I’m tired enough that I was tempted to beg you to help. Daphne, would you like to watch a movie while your mom and I cook? If that’s all right with your mom, of course.”

  “That’s fine,” Hope said.

  “What do you want to watch?”

  He led the girl into the living room and opened the cabinet under the TV.

  “Oh! I haven’t seen a lot of these.” Daphne skimmed her fingers along the spines of the DVDs, Blu-rays, and VHS tapes. “Can I watch this one?”

  “Finding Nemo? Sure.”

  With the little girl happily ensconced in his recliner watching the movie, he returned to the kitchen to find that Hope had already thin-sliced the potatoes and put the oil on the heat.

  “I would’ve started the fish, but I don’t know how your mom does it.”

  He started to show her, and when she took his hands and tugged his arms around her, he froze. What was she doing?

  After a moment, she smiled shyly over her shoulder at him. “Is this okay?”

  “Yeah,” he replied slowly. “Just unexpected.”

  He trailed a finger along her jaw, mesmerized when her eyes slid closed and she leaned into him. His heart jumped and something that had been dormant for three years awakened. It was probably pushing the limits of their new relationship, but he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the curve of her neck. She tilted her head away, baring her neck and encouraging him, and he exhaled, brushing his cheek against her silky soft skin and eliciting a shiver from her.

  “Your whiskers tickle,” she murmured.

  “Sorry. I didn’t have time to shave before I left Mendocino this morning.”

  “That wasn’t a complaint.”

  Threading his fingers with hers, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “It feels like a different lifetime the last time I did this.”

  “It was. It hasn’t been as long for me as for you, but it still feels like that was a different life. A different me.”

  “Mmm.”

  Reluctantly, they released each other because dinner preparation demanded it. He’d made this meal—and the rest that made his mother’s chowder house so popular—so many times in his life that it didn’t take long to finish dinner. He tried not to think about how nice it was to have someone help him make it again, to remind him how much fun it could be to cook and how rarely he mustered the energy to do it for himself anymore. Hope took the place settings he gathered into the dining room, and he watched her.

  She was sexy in a subtle, unconscious way—completely natural, beautiful not in a striking, in-your-face way but in a way that invited his gaze to linger and brought to mind visions of snuggling together in front of the fire on nights while storm-tossed waves pounded the cliffs. It was the same kind of beauty that had first drawn him to his wife, derived as much from a generous and adventurous heart as from any physical attribute.

  At once, he decided that she was well named. She’d certainly awakened a hope in him from the moment of their first meeting in his store.

  She turned and started back to the kitchen, pausing mid-step when she caught him staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “Like you’re pondering the secret of life.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe I am.”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, glancing at him and away like she had something she wanted to ask but was either too embarrassed or too nervous to put it into words.

  “Just ask.”

  Her eyes rounded and then she laughed softly, waving him into the dining room. As soon as she turned toward the narrow strip of wall between the two big windows, he knew exactly what she wanted to ask.

  “Is that Sam?”

  He nodded, tilting his head to study the upper of the two photographs. By strange coincidence, Hope’s cousin was the photographer. He’d flawlessly captured the moment; he and Sam looked so young and happy, smiling for the camera with their arms locked around each other in the exact spot where they’d found the abalone shell together. The rock arch and the sunlit ocean provided a stunning backdrop.

  “How did you two meet?”

  “An abalone shell—the first whole one I’d ever found.” He leaned over to pluck the shell in question from the center of the dining room table where it had sat since they’d first moved in together back when he’d still lived in the Forest Haven Mobile Village, in the single-wide trailer that was now his sister’s. “I was walking toward the main beach from the stairs and she was coming the opposite direction, and we spotted it at the same time. She had just moved to Sea Glass Cove and it was her first walk on the beach.”

  “What a sweet story!” Hope cooed. “What brought her to the cove?”

  “A teaching job—elementary art.”

  Hope let her gaze meander around his home, and a faint smile of appreciation played across her features. “I thought the artistry of your house was your doing, but now I think it was as much hers as yours.”

  “Definitely. We clicked, right from that first moment.” He slipped a finger aro
und one of hers and tugged her hand toward him. “Much like you and I clicked in my store over wind chimes. And to answer the question I know is on your mind, yes, I still miss her and I always will… but I missed you, too, these last few days.”

  The shy, pleased glow that ignited her smile kindled a matching fire in his heart. There was something special at work here, and he reached for it with both hands, eagerly and without hesitation. He let his thumb glide along her jaw, he lowered his head, aching to kiss her but waiting for her to close the gap.

  Wondrously, she did, and he smiled against her lips.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he whispered. “Probably since dinner at your place the other night.”

  “You should’ve said something because I’ve been wanting to do it, too.”

  Grinning, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek. Good lord, she had such soft skin, and it was all he could do to keep his caresses to this. A little voice whispered slyly that she wouldn’t mind, but movement in the living room caught his attention, and he shifted his gaze to see her daughter approaching. She sought what had drawn their attention and spotted the pictures on the wall.

  “Is that your wife?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “She’s so pretty.”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “And this is your son?” Daphne asked, joining them. She pointed to the picture below the one of him and Sam. It was one Sam had taken of him and Sean getting ready to kayak the Jewel River where it meandered lazily through the sand dunes before making its final twist across the beach into the sea.

  “Yep, that’s my boy Sean.”

  Somehow, it was a relief that Hope had already shared that with her.

  “I wish I could’ve met him. Mom said he’d be about my age.”

  “I think you two would’ve been great friends.”

  He didn’t know what he’d expected Daphne to do, but it stunned him when she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face against his stomach. There was such strength in those skinny arms. He wrapped his arms around her head and shoulders, clinging to the anchor she provided as a wave of unexpected grief washed over him.