Cottage by the Sea

by Robin Jones Gunn

  From that day forward their relationship wove itself back together. Mike found a good job and immersed himself in their sons’ lives just as their eldest was starting junior high. Erin restructured her days. She found her pace, a sweeter, calmer pace. She pursued her passion and obtained a job as a wedding coordinator at a resort hotel in Newport Beach. By the time their three sons had galloped through high school and had moved out of the house, Erin and Mike found themselves entwined in a love deeper than either would have thought possible.

  Everything Erin’s mother had told her was coming true. Erin was experiencing the reward of committed love and was so grateful she had stayed on the path.

  Now she was on a new path. Or, more specifically, a road. A literal winding road through the woods to the Oregon coast. This was another difficult path she would not have chosen on her own. Her father needed her to extend an added measure of grace eighteen months ago when he had made the decisions that brought him to this place. And now he needed even more grace.

  Erin put her thoughts on pause. She passed a road sign indicating the distance to Moss Cove. Her GPS told her that she had only eight miles to go. Erin pressed Delores’s name on the lit screen of her phone. She waited for three rings before her call was answered.

  “Hi, Delores. I thought I would let you know I’m almost there.”

  “Okay. Well, we’re here waiting. I left the light on above the garage, as I told you. Remember, it’s a gravel driveway, and it comes up pretty quickly. It’s a sharp turn off the highway.”

  Even with Delores’s warning, when Erin hit the steep gravel road twenty minutes later, she knew she was going too fast. The road was narrow and led down into a protected cove below the main road. The tires spun the tiny rocks up against the side windows as she drove toward a strong light at the end of the private road. She had no idea what else was around her because all that could be seen was a cleared turnaround area ahead to the left and a narrow garage door under the bright, blue-tinted light. As soon as she stopped the car, Erin felt her heart pounding.

  She wished she hadn’t come. She wished her father hadn’t had a stroke. She wished Mike were with her. Most of all she wished it would be her mother’s face that greeted her at the door of this cottage by the sea in the darkness of the night.

  Unlatching her seat belt, Erin reached for her purse just as a tapping sounded on the closed passenger’s window. When Erin looked up, she felt an involuntary twitch as she saw Delores’s oval face peering into the car. Delores was neither smiling nor frowning. A chilling blue shadow from the light above the garage highlighted her broad nose and plump lips. A knit cap covered her short, dark hair.

  “Hi!” Erin waved and tried to give a convincing smile. She told her apprehensions to go away.

  You did the right thing in coming. It’s a good thing you’re here. Don’t overreact. Be calm. You have everything you need to be among the strongest and bravest daughters.

  4

  May your troubles be less

  And your blessings be more

  And nothing but happiness

  Come through your door.

  Opening her car door, Erin was met by a shockingly cold wind. The air carried the ocean’s salty scent. Not in a refreshing, cooling, dash-of-salt way, which is how she felt the coastal breeze in Southern California. The wind here was heavy with the brine of feisty, churned-up winter waves. Erin’s hands and nose instantly felt cold.

  “I’ll take your suitcase,” Delores called out over the whipping wind. “Is it in the trunk?”

  “No, it’s right here. I can get it.” Erin pulled the single bag from out of the warm car’s backseat and couldn’t believe how cold she felt. Cold and damp.

  “Your father has been waiting. He’s glad you came.”

  Erin took Delores’s greeting as an olive branch of peace. While Delores hadn’t greeted her with a hug or any other welcoming expression aside from coming outside in her slippers and fleece robe, she had started Erin’s visit with something positive. Her father was glad she came. All earlier tense messages from Delores were put aside. This was a good start.

  Erin returned the greeting by saying “Thanks for being so understanding about my coming on short notice. I appreciate your letting me stay here.” Erin trotted quickly to catch up to Delores, who was tromping ahead through the gravel to a wooden deck. “So, how are you doing, Delores?”

  “I’ve been better,” Delores called over her shoulder. “Watch your step.”

  With the bright light from the garage now behind her, Erin found it difficult to see the two steps up onto the wooden deck. The deck appeared new, but the front door looked like something from a hundred-year-old fairy tale cottage, complete with an arched top and a beveled pane of glass in the shape of a half circle at eye level.

  Delores called out as she opened the door, “You were right, Jack. That was her car. She’s here.”

  Erin entered and found she was in the kitchen. She quickly shut the door, keeping the icy breezes outside. Then she took a quick look around and was amazed at what she saw. The cottage was adorable. The kitchen looked as if it were an Irish cottage set for a movie, complete with a big, black potbelly stove in between the kitchen and the adjoining living room. To the right a tidy table for two sat under a window that had been dressed up with green print curtains tied with a bow in the center. The cupboards had yellow daisy knobs. On the blue-tiled counter sat an espresso maker, blender, toaster, and basket neatly filled with fresh fruit.

  The cuteness surprised Erin. If Delores had done the decorating, this certainly wasn’t reflective of the personality she exuded.

  “Your kitchen is charming,” Erin said.

  “What are you doing in there?” Her dad’s voice rumbled from around the corner in the other room. It carried its usual gruff tenor but seemed a bit wobbly. “Did you come to see me or the kitchen?”

  Erin was stunned that his speech was so clear and cohesive. After the way he had sounded on the phone that morning, she half expected him still to be unable to form a complete sentence. She didn’t know enough about the effects of a stroke to know if all the symptoms went away after the initial danger passed.

  Entering the moment as if nothing had happened to prompt her visit, Erin playfully said, “Well, hello to you, too, Dad. I thought you would give me a chance to at least get all the way in the door before you barked at me.”

  “That wasn’t barking. You want barking? I’ll give you barking. Why did it take you so long to come see us? We’ve lived here a year and a half, you know.”

  She left her suitcase and purse in the kitchen and made her way into the next room where she saw her father. He was in a recliner with a puffy blanket over him and a beanie cap on his head. Erin made a beeline for him and snuggled right up, kissing his scruffy cheek. As she pulled back, she smiled broadly.

  “I’m here now, aren’t I? Isn’t that good enough for you?”

  “Never good enough, you know that. I always want more. So what did you bring me?” His right eyelid drooped a bit, and his skin was more sallow than it had ever been in the Southern California climate. Other than that, he looked just as he had always looked, her dear old dad. His thick hair had turned white many years ago. Fringes of the snowy strands stuck out under the stocking cap. His high cheekbones seemed to rise with his smile when he looked at her. This wasn’t the strong, familiar image she had expected to see.

  “What did I bring you? I brought pictures of Joel from his latest basketball game and a whole lot of advice. Which do you want first?”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “You can keep your rotten advice. I’ve had enough of that lately.”

  “You look good, Dad. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” He spoke the word quickly, as if he were irritated that she had asked. That’s when she realized he hadn’t gotten out of the chair to greet her when she arrived. It wasn’t normal for her father to stay seated and let people come to him.

  “Were you able to get s
ome good rest today? Isn’t that what the doctor ordered?”

  “That’s all I’ve been getting since we came back from the hospital.” He shot a sideways glance at Delores, who had positioned herself on the sofa with her arms crossed.

  “That’s good. Rest is what you need right now.” Erin tucked the blanket in around her father as if that were what she had come to do—make him more comfortable. The scenario was awkward and unfamiliar. Her father never was sick. He wasn’t a man who wanted to be coddled. Ever. Yet he didn’t protest Erin’s caring gestures.

  “They have me doped up with all these drugs. I don’t like it one bit.”

  Erin smiled at him. He caught her generous grin and smiled back. Erin’s eye went to the framed calligraphy on the wall behind his recliner. She recognized it as the gift she had done by hand and given to her father for Christmas when she was fifteen. The printed letters were uneven in a few spots, and there were some spacing blips.

  “I can’t believe you still have that.” It pleased Erin that he had hung her gift in such a prominent place.

  “’Course we do.”

  Erin silently skim-read the lines she had carefully copied long ago.

  An Irish Prayer

  May God give you

  For every storm, a rainbow,

  For every tear, a smile,

  For every care, a promise,

  And a blessing in each trial.

  For every problem life sends,

  A faithful friend to share,

  For every sigh, a sweet song,

  And an answer for each prayer.

  “Did you have any trouble getting here?” Delores pulled Erin away from her reminiscing moment.

  “No. It took longer than I thought it would, though. The weather definitely slowed me down.”

  “We’ve had a lot of ice this winter,” her dad said.

  “Well,” Delores said, rustling in her seat, “things here are not at all the same as they are in California, are they? The icy roads this morning certainly made it difficult for us to get to the hospital. Interesting, isn’t it, how a person doesn’t have a full understanding of another person’s life or circumstances unless they are in the situation themselves.”

  Erin took note of Delores’s pointed comment. “You’re right. And I’d like to apologize, Delores. I probably came across pretty intense on the phone this morning about getting Dad to the hospital. I don’t have a full picture of what you two are up against here with weather conditions and limited medical facilities.”

  “No, you don’t.” Delores’s voice softened slightly. “You’ve not been here, so you don’t know what it’s like. But you were worried about your father.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “You can put your worries to rest,” her dad said. “I’m fine, as you can see. There’s plenty of spit and vinegar left in me.”

  Erin smiled at him, trying to give the appearance that she believed his words. It seemed, though, as if a chilling sea mist floated in the air among the three of them, trying to obscure the truth that not one of them believed their worries about his health could be sent sailing.

  “So, what do you think of our place?” he asked, changing the topic with ease.

  “It’s really nice,” Erin said. “You’ve fixed it up adorably.”

  “Show her the pictures, Delores. Where’s the book? Show her what we’ve done.”

  Delores went to a built-in bookshelf to the right of the big picture window that took up most of the front wall of the living room. She motioned with a nod of her head that Erin should take the open seat next to her on the sofa.

  Erin took off her coat and laid it over the couch’s arm. Before sitting down she gazed out the large window. Outside everything was too dark for her to make out any specifics, but Erin was pretty sure she would be greeted in the morning with a sumptuous view of the vast Pacific Ocean as it rushed to meet the wild and rugged cliffs. Even with all the windows closed up nice and tight, the low, rhythmic bellowing of the salty waves could be heard in the not-too-far distance. Erin knew at once why her father wanted to live here. She knew this was his dream. Southern California had been Erin’s mother’s dream. This untamed place was her father’s dream.

  Delores handed Erin the photo album. “We tried to keep a record of the renovations.” The album was covered with blue-and-white-checked gingham, and across the front in hand appliquéd letters it read “Hidden Cottage.”

  “That’s a nice name,” Erin said, repeating the words. “Hidden Cottage.”

  “That’s what this place was called when we bought it,” her dad said. “It was hidden, all right. Hidden by overgrown shrubs. Show her, Delores.”

  Delores opened to the first page of the scrapbook. Erin studied the large photo of a neglected cabin with several shutters, each hanging on by a single, rusted hinge.

  “This is what it looked like when you bought it?”

  “Yup.” Her father held back none of his obvious pride over the transformation. “This is what your mother and I . . . I mean, what Delores and I . . . have been doing for the past eighteen months.”

  Erin turned the page and was impressed. When she saw the original, neglected condition of the kitchen and living room and how it had been transformed, all she could say was “Wow! You two have been busy. This is amazing.”

  “It was bad, all right. That’s why we bought the place for a song.” Her dad pulled off the blanket and pressed his legs down on the recliner’s footrest so that the chair returned to an upright position. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of our mansion, and then you can compare it to the photos. It’s better if you see it all first.”

  “Dad, are you sure you’re supposed to be up like this?”

  “Of course I’m supposed to be up.” His tone was indignant.

  Delores immediately backed him up. “The doctor told him to resume normal, moderate activity.”

  Erin had a pretty good idea that the renovations her dad had undertaken over the past eighteen months had been neither “normal” nor “moderate” activity.

  “I’ll start with showing you the bedroom we added on. It’s this way.” Jack led Erin to the halfway opened door adjacent to the living room. He pushed it open. She could feel his gaze on her, ready and waiting for her exclamations of amazement.

  She didn’t need to pretend she was impressed. The seashore theme of the immaculate room was definitely “ooh-able.” Delores had exceptional taste, and a keen eye for combining colors. Never would Erin have expected this hidden talent tucked away in abrupt, efficient Delores.

  “Not bad, is it?” her dad said.

  “It’s wonderful. Really beautiful.”

  “Do you like it? Honestly, I want you to tell your old dad the truth. What do you think of the place?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Delores was right behind her so Erin added, “You’re an artist, Delores. You and my dad have transformed this place.”

  Erin couldn’t tell if Delores was smiling since, unfortunately, her smile and smirk were awfully close.

  The three of them headed up the narrow stairs located to the left of the bedroom door. Upstairs was a dormer-style bedroom. In the compact space Erin recognized an old dresser topped with an amber-toned lamp that set off a soft glow when Delores flipped the light switch. A twin bed and a wicker rocking chair completed the furniture that fit in the small but lovely room.

  Erin sang another round of praises for Delores and quietly slipped her hand into her dad’s. She gave him two quick squeezes. That had always been her mom’s secret code for saying “Love you.” Three squeezes back meant “Love you, too.” Erin had passed on the secret squeezes to Mike and their three sons. Those four men in her life had always responded with three squeezes. Erin waited to feel the three squeezes back from the first important man in her life.

  Instead of squeezes from her dad’s large and calloused hand, all she felt was his releasing himself from her grip.

  In that moment, Erin felt
as if the floor had dropped out from under her. Her father had raised her to be tough enough to take a hit in the face from a football or to keep running even after she had rubbed a blister on her heel. She had always worked hard to gain his golden approval. On a few occasions she had known he was proud of her. But what she had worked even harder to receive was his fatherly affection. All she needed was three squeezes, and she would know without a doubt that she mattered to him.

  Yet even now her father could not or would not give her the one thing for which her little-girl heart longed.

  5

  May the raindrops fall lightly on your brow.

  May the soft winds freshen your spirit.

  May the sunshine brighten your heart.

  May the burdens of the day rest lightly upon you.

  And may God enfold you in the mantle of his love.

  The next morning, before the first light had crept into her small upstairs room, Erin was awakened by the roar of the winter storm raging outside. Tiny beads of hail pelted the dormer window, as if a Romeo were trying to gain the attention of his Juliet.

  The churning blast of the waves seemed to have turned up in volume since Erin first arrived, and the fierce wind now roused her from under the down comforter. She put her bare feet on the braided rug and took four steps across the floor to pull up the shade to take a look outside. She could see nothing but a few rounded shrubs and her rental car parked under the still glowing light above the garage. In the light she noticed the streaking pellets of ice as the wind pushed them toward the east at an angle.

  Beyond the immediate perimeter of the cottage the rest of the world remained shrouded in darkness. She could hear all the sounds rocking that outer world, but here inside this steady fortress she was safe. Her father had made this tiny castle of his nice and safe, and Delores had made it pretty.

  Erin thought of the Hidden Cottage scrapbook. Last night her father had sat beside her on the couch and gone over every before and after photo with detailed explanations. He was proud of the work he and Delores had done. Erin also got the impression he was proud of Delores for documenting the process step-by-step and putting it together in such a beautiful book.