by T. I. Lowe
There she went again, taking something that was deemed worthless and wanting to restore it to a grander purpose. Lincoln admired her and deep down wanted to be more like that himself. “How many sets are there?”
Opal twisted her lips and squinted as if she were calculating in her head. “I’m not quite sure. A whole bunch of them.”
“Figure out a total and I’ll handle ordering the mattresses.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded and reached over to swipe a handful of her onion rings. “Yeah. I’m in the know on where to get stuff like that.” He winked before popping one of the crispy circles into his mouth.
“Anything else happen at the doctor’s office today?”
Lincoln looked up but quickly averted his eyes, knowing she’d see the truth in just one good glance. “Yeah. The doc said to tell you hey.”
“That’s it?”
“Close enough.” He chugged the rest of his tea and gathered the trash. “You up for driving me around some back roads?”
Opal narrowed those beautiful green eyes, and he waited for her to call him out. Instead, she let out a long sigh and stood. “If you’re gonna dodge the conversation, I’d be crazy not to take you up on letting me drive your Jeep.” She dusted a few crumbs off her pink shirt, sending a sprinkling of glitter to the floor as well, and headed for the door. “Come on, big boy. Let’s go get lost down a dirt road for a spell. Maybe it’ll help loosen the truth from your lips.”
Lincoln wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already wiggled the truth out of Dr. Rabin. Nonetheless, he slowly stood from the chair with the aid of his cane and hobbled out behind her.
As the night moved slowly along with the lazy drawl of country music filling the quiet, Opal eased off the road and parked on the edge of a field that seemed to hold the entire moon and stars in its grasp. She turned the radio off and reached for Lincoln’s hand, but that wasn’t enough for him, so he pulled on their joined hands until she was wrapped in his arms. With the crickets chirping and the wind bristling through the trees, he tried kissing away his regret. It had become a permanent part of his daily life, but when Opal was near, it was more tolerable.
“Tell me, Mr. Astrologer, what are these stars trying to tell us?” Opal whispered against his lips, making them turn up into a crooked grin.
He sat back on his side of the Jeep and focused solely on her as he spoke. “When I gaze at those sparkly jewels, all they seem to tell me is wishing ain’t as out of reach as I had thought. They’ve given me permission to want more than I should.”
His answer seemed to make her eyes light up even more. She tilted her head toward the sky and asked coyly, “The stars tell you all that?”
Lincoln’s eyes never left her as he reached over and traced the corner of her right eye, wanting to make himself perfectly clear. “My stars tell me so much more.”
“You know you’ve really surprised me.”
“How so?”
Opal smiled and shook her head. “I figured after that first kiss you would make a run for it and I’d never see you again.”
“Then you don’t know me all that well.” Lincoln was well aware that he failed in many aspects of character, but one he held firm to was that when he made a decision, he stuck to it wholeheartedly. Perhaps Opal didn’t understand what she was getting herself into by pursuing him, but that was neither here nor there as far as he was concerned.
“I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other rather well in the last few months.” Opal paused and moved her attention back to the glowing moon. “I’d like to know you better . . . Maybe we can take a trip to Beaufort together so I can meet your family.”
Lincoln’s body was already heating from the fever creeping back on him, but the mention of his family had his skin prickling. He tried coming up with an answer, but nothing came to him. After several minutes of silence, he asked gruffly, “Can you take me home?”
“I didn’t mean to upset you. Don’t you want us to grow closer?”
Of course he did, but shame and uncertainty blocked the path at the moment. “I ain’t sore about that . . . I just need another round of medicine.”
Opal reached over and tested the temperature of his forehead. “Oh, you’re burning up again.” She hurried to crank the Jeep and start the short trek home. “You should have told me earlier. Going out tonight probably wasn’t a good idea.”
As the beachfront came into view under the streetlights and a bright full moon, Lincoln tried turning in his seat to face her. He had to stifle a groan when his knee made contact with the console, but he had something to say and needed to swallow past the pain to get it out. “Will you give me some time to get my health squared away before we go meeting parents and stuff?”
Opal glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to the road. “You’ve already met my family. In fact, you’re invited to Bubba’s birthday party next month. Momma’s doing all the cooking and—”
“You know what I mean.”
“Maybe you need to square away some things with your family too.”
There she went calling him out on the very issue he was avoiding. It was the thing that had been nagging him the most since trying to mend his relationship with God. He also recognized the pattern that followed his prayers. The more he prayed, the more his family was pushed in his face. He gazed out the window, up to the clear indigo sky. Okay, God. I hear ya. But I don’t know how . . .
Opal parked and hopped out of the Jeep and was inside waiting for him with a glass of water and his medicine before he could limp up the steps.
“Thank you.” He took both, downing the pills with over half the glass of water. By the time he tipped the glass away from his lips, Opal was holding out a conch shell. “What’s the wish?”
“My wish is that you listen to the doctor and do as he suggested.” She fished another small clamshell out of her purse and dropped it onto his palm beside the other one. “I also wish that you’ll listen to God and to your heart. They’ll tell you how to square things away with your family.” She reached up on her tiptoes and gave him a sweet kiss before leaving him with a lot to think about.
It was time to start listening for a change, instead of ignoring his problems. Certainly the latter was only making things worse.
14
Meddling is how everyone always liked to refer to Opal’s helping. A meddler is what they had called her for as long as she could remember. Still, being used to it didn’t mean she cared for it all that much. They were all mistaken, in her opinion. What she did was help. Sure, it took folks time to see it that way, but almost always they did in the end.
Of course, Lincoln loved attaching the term to her name every chance he got, but he was the one forcing her hand. He’d brushed off the doctor’s advice on surgery and wasn’t making any moves to reconcile with his family, so he’d just have to deal.
As she regarded her newest meddling, Opal knew she was right to plan on begging for forgiveness later instead of asking for permission. And there sure was going to be a whole heaping lot of begging.
“So he needs more surgery?” The graying brunette with delicate crow’s-feet lining her dark eyes glanced at Opal over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Yes, ma’am. Of course you know how stubborn your son can be.” Opal picked at her breakfast absently as she watched Anita Cole do basically the same with her own meal. It was Opal’s favorite, fried eggs and cheesy hash browns, at her favorite restaurant, Driftwood Diner, but uneasiness had squelched her appetite.
“That he is.” Anita glanced around at the rustic dining area that was filled with chattering patrons and sighed heavily. “Lincoln doesn’t know I’m here, does he?”
Opal fidgeted in her seat. “No, ma’am, but after we eat, I’d love to show you some of his projects at the store. He’ll be out most of the day . . . You’d be proud to know that word is getting around about his architectural engineering background, and he’s already signed on to help with a few reconstructi
on jobs.”
“You don’t have to sell me on how remarkable my son is, Miss Gilbert. I already know.” Anita’s dark eyes narrowed, looking so much like her son that Opal couldn’t hold back the small smile.
“Of course you do. I just wasn’t sure how much he’s shared with you since moving here. And please call me Opal.”
Now it was Anita’s turn to fidget, and that was all the answer Opal really needed, but the woman replied just above a whisper, “We’ve not talked since he left Beaufort. I’ve called and left messages, but he won’t return them.” She paused to take a sip of coffee. After she set the cup down, her focus stayed on the chipped mug. “Things happened before he left, and that’s between us, but for what it’s worth, I really appreciate you reaching out.”
“You’re right—I don’t know what happened between y’all, but I do know Linc really regrets it. He wants to make amends, but he doesn’t know how.”
Hope lit Anita’s eyes. “He said all that?”
Opal nodded as she pushed an egg around her plate, leaving a yellow yolk trail. “In so many words. To be honest with you, I think he’s so ashamed over whatever it was he did that he doesn’t feel worthy of a second chance.”
“Again with his stubbornness.” Anita’s eyes crinkled as she smiled and patted Opal’s hand. “This is a start, though, and I’d love to see his work. He always loved tinkering around my father’s shed growing up. I’m just glad he’s finally doing something to make himself happy.”
“Did being in the military make him happy?” Opal couldn’t help but ask.
Anita let out another pensive sigh. “Most of the Cole men for many generations have served our country. I think my son felt obligated to do the same and he did an outstanding job, always went above and beyond his call of duty, but I honestly never thought it suited him.”
That answered a few of Opal’s questions but also formed new ones. Ones that didn’t need to be answered in a public place with a practical stranger. She was appreciative nonetheless for some insight on Lincoln Cole.
After settling their bill, Opal and Anita headed over to the store. Opal began in the small yard and showed off the chair/tables, which Lincoln’s mother oohed and aahed over. She led Anita around the showroom, pointing out each piece Lincoln had a hand in designing. They were in the midst of talking over a hutch that he had refurbished into a baby’s changing table when the giant man limped inside and froze.
In fraying jeans, flip-flops, and a faded Hank Williams Jr. T-shirt that declared A country boy can survive, he should have looked cute and compliant. But Lincoln Cole was anything but. Intimidating and irritated was more like it.
Now that Lincoln was standing face-to-face with his mother, Opal could see so many shared traits. Anita was rather tall with dark hair and eyes, leaving no doubt he took mostly after her. But the stern rigidness of his stance and the deep scowl must have come from his father, because it looked nothing close to anything Anita would ever be caught carrying.
“Mom?” Lincoln’s voice barely rasped the word over a whisper. His narrowed eyes slid to Opal, causing her face to heat in record speed. “You.” And that word came out sharp enough to leave a mark.
Even though the blush scalded her cheeks, Opal stood straighter and squared her shoulders to ready herself for battle. “Yes?” she asked nonchalantly.
“You did this.” Lincoln pointed to his mother.
“Son,” Anita scolded, “no sense in being so rude.” Anita stepped closer and Opal was prepared to watch the woman whack him in the arm like her petulant son deserved. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and began to softly weep.
Lincoln kept his eyes fixed on Opal as he hugged his mother. An entire conversation was conveyed in that blazing stare in those few short minutes. Anger, confusion, a little hurt, but there was also a hint of gratitude that he would probably deny if she pointed it out.
Once Anita regained her composure, both Coles put on an affable facade and went to pretending nothing was amiss between them. It wasn’t at all what Opal had expected nor desired for the outcome of the reunion. She wanted the air cleared, not for the issue to be shoved away like an insignificant piece of junk mail.
Lincoln kept his mouth on a mostly mute setting, but his eyes gave away the battle raging within him and Opal knew it was going to boil over at some point. Preferably once his mother was gone. Opal was right impressed with Anita, though. Not once did she trying pulling anything out of Lincoln. Surely years of raising him came into play with that move. She seemed content with keeping the conversation focused safely on the furniture pieces and their upcoming projects. Like any proud mother, she lobbed compliment after compliment at him.
When Anita reluctantly declared it time for her to go, relief washed over Opal. She couldn’t have asked for a more civil meeting nor could it have gone any smoother.
She should have known better.
They stood in the parking lot concluding their goodbyes. Anita glanced at Opal before lowering her voice, but the sea breeze carried her words anyway. “Lincoln, I’ll make your appointment with the surgeon.”
“Mom—”
“We’ll go with you. Just like the previous times.”
“No.” Lincoln cut Opal a pointed look before bringing his attention back to his mother. “Nothing’s been decided on surgery yet.”
“Son, you need the surgery. And like I said, your father and I’ll help you.”
“I don’t need him!” Lincoln yanked away from his mother’s outstretched hand and stumbled a few steps away from her. “Nor do I need you!”
His baleful words came out like a weapon, meant to propel the woman away. And from the hurt pinching her features, it looked like he’d met his target.
“Son, that’s not fair.”
“It’s no fairer than how I was treated . . . how he humiliated me that day. Or how he’s degraded me most of my life.”
Anita’s brown eyes glassed over before tears spilled down her frowning face. “And no fairer than how you carelessly reacted to that humiliation and made it a hundred times worse.”
“Enough now!” Lincoln’s voice roared with ample indignation to firmly shut down the conversation.
“You’ve been through a lot, Son, and I wish beyond wishing that I could free you from the chains it’s wrapped you in, but only you can do that.” She opened her car door. Just before climbing in, she said, “Your father will forgive you if only you’d ask.”
As the car slowly made its way down the road, Lincoln hung his head until the curtain of dark locks concealed his blushing face. Opal’s hand itched to reach up and move the hair away, but she knew it was in her best interest to stay put. She waited for him to yell at her. To scream at the sky. Anything. Instead, he said nothing, obviously shutting down. It was a defeated stance Opal had witnessed him taking a few times since they’d met and just as each time before, it made her soul ache for him.
Lincoln got into his Jeep and peeled out of the parking lot, reminiscent of the day they had met. The only difference was that she didn’t chase after him right away this go-around, knowing he needed some space to cool down. There wouldn’t be any flirting and tease this time. No, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun as that first game of chase they’d played.
Opal lifted up a steady stream of prayers as she closed the store, knowing she’d need any answered prayer God was inclined to grant her before coming clean about her meddling and asking for forgiveness that wasn’t much probable at that point.
15
Exhausted physically and drained emotionally, Lincoln slung his cane down in the sand and eased himself onto the top porch step. After a few stuttered breaths that did nothing to settle him down, he lowered his head into his hands and allowed the pent-up hurts their freedom. Wave after wave of emotion rolled over him. He could only hope it wouldn’t overtake him completely.
A good bit of time passed as Lincoln sat there. The pounding in his head matched the throb in his leg, but he couldn’t bring himsel
f to stand to go find something to ease either one. Nothing really worked anyway. There was no motivation to do anything but sit there and wallow. The pain was deserved. His penance for the mess he’d made of his life.
The puttering sound of a familiar van pulled up in front, and when he heard the popping echo of the door shutting, the breath he’d been holding came rushing out. Lincoln had known Opal would make her way there eventually, and even though he was spitting mad at her, some of the pain in his chest instantly alleviated with her arrival.
Lincoln didn’t look up, but moments later her clunky sandals came into view and stopped on the second step in front of him. Her tiny hand reached out and threaded gently through his hair, smoothing it back to reveal his damp face. His eyes remained downcast, ashamed to even meet her gaze.
When she didn’t speak, he cleared his throat and rasped, “I’m good and sore at you.”
Opal kept working her fingers through his hair, sending goose bumps down his neck and across his shoulders. “I know.”
“You had no right.” His voice came out close to a strangle from holding back all that wanted to be said. Nothing good would come from laying into her for meddling, and he was pretty sure she was remorseful about it anyway.
“I know,” she repeated. While one hand kept slowly weaving through his hair, Opal placed her other against his neck. “Each pulse you have is another chance. Another opportunity.” She grew quiet while keeping her fingertips pressed against his neck. After a minute or so passed, she whispered, “You’re a living breathing miracle. Your life is a gift from God and yet you’ve just wasted eighty-eight chances to appreciate that in the last minute.” Her fingers tapped the side of his neck, driving home her point.
“You don’t know what I did,” he bit out.
“You’re right. I don’t. So how about finally telling me.” Opal went to move away from him, but Lincoln clamped his hands on her hips to help stay grounded while searching for the words.