Cottage by the Sea

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “And what did Nannette say?”

  “She was flattered. That’s when I knew I had my opening with her. So I thanked her again, handed her my card, and started out the door.”

  “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you give her a brochure and tell her about how our service works?”

  “Because you’ve done that already, right?”

  “Yes. Twice.”

  “So she didn’t need the sales pitch.”

  “Are you saying you left, and she called you and agreed to become one of our partner merchants?”

  “No. I haven’t finished telling you yet. I started out the door. And she asked if I had been in before. I told her I hadn’t, but that you had, and we were business partners. I described you and she said she knew who you were.”

  “She remembers me?”

  “Oh, yes. Definitely. She said you are one of only a few women of a certain age who are able to still wear jeans and look fashionable.”

  Erin frowned and switched her cell phone to the other ear. She wasn’t sure she liked being the “woman of a certain age” in this story.

  “So why did Nannette decide to sign with us now?”

  “I told her about your father and that you were caring for him in Oregon and how the timing was horrible because your son just got married and you had to leave immediately after the wedding to be with your father.”

  “We didn’t leave immediately after the wedding. I didn’t even know about the stroke until the next morning.”

  “Well, the point is, the story is what sealed the deal. Turns out Nannette’s mother had a stroke when Nannette was a teenager, and she said she knows exactly what you’re going through. I told her I was trying to keep our business going despite your absence, and do you know what she did?” Sharlene didn’t wait for Erin to respond.

  “Nannette pulled one of the white rosebuds out of the bouquet I had just given her, handed it to me, and said with that gorgeous French accent of hers, ‘You may fax me the agreement this afternoon. Strong women should help each other succeed, should we not?’”

  “That was it?”

  “Yup. Don’t you love it? You are now a ‘strong woman’ in her eyes, and our list of partner merchants just went up to five-star status.”

  “Wow, Sharlene, this is good news.”

  “I hoped it would brighten your day.”

  Erin’s phone beeped, and she quickly had to tell Sharlene that her battery had run out.

  “No problem. Talk to you tomorrow.”

  When Erin went downstairs to find the charger and plug in her phone, Sylvia was in the living room sitting on the sofa, knitting. She looked up at Erin over the top rim of her glasses and gave her a small smile. Erin’s dad was sleeping. Marge was reading a book, her usual downtime occupation.

  Sylvia was early today. Her normal time to see Jack was later in the afternoon. She had been coming every day since the cookout. Arriving promptly at three thirty, she gave him the update on all the local gossip and was gone by 4:10. Jack perked up whenever Sylvia came. He didn’t cry, smile, or wink at her, but he watched her as if she were the evening news anchor and it was his place to take it all in without a response. Erin didn’t know why Sylvia was here now, except to be a comforting presence.

  Paddy and two of his pals checked in on Jack later that evening. He seemed alert and interested in their company when they arrived. By the time they left he had become agitated and then despondent. Erin could only imagine the crashing emotions that he must feel. He was unable to speak while his cronies cracked jokes.

  The progression of his friends’ attempt to communicate was fascinating. They started off the visit by looking him in the eye and speaking more loudly than necessary. When each of them decided where to sit, they turned facing each other, as if Jack weren’t in the room. By the end of their visit, her father seemed to have become little more than a faithful ole hound, worthy of a pat on the head or scratch behind the ears. He didn’t have the ability to do anything other than sit with them and perhaps give an occasional howl.

  What Erin witnessed that evening upset her. She was determined to find ways for her father to reengage and communicate at the level she believed he still could.

  On Friday the morning fog that had lingered most of the week lifted before noon. Erin and Marge maneuvered Jack into the wheelchair and navigated the narrow pathway out the front door. As soon as they bumped the wheels over the threshold, Jack lifted his chin to the ocean breeze. They adjusted him so that the sun bathed his immovable right side.

  A deep humming sound started in his throat and grew to a gurgle as it passed through his slanted lips. Erin smiled. She placed her hand on her father’s shoulder and massaged his brick-tight muscles. “I love it when you sing, Daddy.”

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had called her father “Daddy.” But she could remember the last time she had heard him sing. Not the way he had chortled along at the cookout. She remembered when he really sang, heart and soul. It was in the shower. Always in the shower. His rich tenor voice echoed through the house whenever he showered.

  Once, when she was in the seventh grade, Erin had two friends come to their home for a sleepover. The next morning her father showered long before the girls were ready to wake up. The three sleepyheads were treated to a full rendition of “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling,” followed by a number of Wayne Newton classics, and finally one of his favorite Sons of the Pioneers’ songs about a tumbleweed.

  For the rest of the school year, Erin suffered embarrassment as her friends took delight in doing imitations of her father’s far-reaching voice.

  Erin’s mom had tried many times to convince Jack to join the church choir. He preferred his role as an usher, a job he volunteered for when he was forty-one and faithfully continued performing until he was sixty-two. He was the official greeter at their church and outlasted all the other ushers as well as three pastors. Jack O’Riley, with his snowy white hair, merry blue eyes, and strong right-hand grip was the first impression many received of the church. His wit and charm ensured that every visitor received a friendly reception.

  One of the pastors often said during the worship service, “I trust all of you worshipping with us received the right hand of fellowship when you entered this morning.” Everyone knew he was referring to being greeted by Jack and experiencing one of his memorable handshakes. Now here he was, unable to lift that once strong “right hand of fellowship” and unable to greet his friends with wit and warmth.

  Yet he could sing. Or at least to him it must have sounded like a song.

  As Erin rubbed his neck and shoulders, she felt the sun’s soothing warmth on her right side as well. She drank in the ocean’s seasoned air, tasting the tingle of salt on her lips and feeling the cool trail of tears on her face.

  This wasn’t easy.

  And it wasn’t over.

  13

  Where the wind has a sound like a sweet song

  And anyone can hum it,

  And the heather grows upon the hills

  And shamrocks not far from it.

  On Saturday afternoon, two weeks after the wedding and one week after the cookout, Erin left her father in Marge’s capable hands and simply said she was going out for a few hours. She took her phone and walked to the bench on the bluff’s edge. The sun was doing a nice job of making the smoothly rolling waves look freshly scrubbed with a “top of the morning, Glory” shine.

  Erin zipped up her daily-worn green fleece jacket and sat for a few moments breathing in the clean air, trying to clear her thoughts. She missed Mike. Pressing Home on her phone, she waited for him to pick up. His groggy voice answered on the fourth ring.

  “Do you want me to call you later?”

  “No, I’m awake. I was just thinking about you. How’s everything going this morning?” She pictured him in their bed with the phone to his ear and his eyes closed.

  “The same. I’m sitting on the bench. Thinking of you, too.”

 
They shared a pause over the phone the way best friends do when they’re content just being with each other.

  “Mike, it feels like we’re not getting anywhere. With our exit strategy, I mean. I feel like I’ve been here for months.”

  “We’re getting there. It’s just slow. I talked to a contractor last night. He’s coming Monday to give me an estimate on the wheelchair ramp. And did I tell you I checked on ordering a hospital bed? The company will deliver it as soon as we’re ready. I also filed with the agency that provides in-home nursing. All they need is a start date and the reply from your dad’s insurance company. We have to be patient. This is a detailed process.”

  Erin was already dreading the call she knew she would have to make to Sharlene after this update. The great news about Nannette’s partnership had been the only bright spot in the business. Sharlene had made it clear that she was falling further behind as she was training Ashley. In their last phone call Erin had confidently said, “I’ll be able to jump in when I get home next week.” She knew now that her statement had been overly optimistic.

  Erin and Mike talked for another ten minutes before she hung up and wrapped her arms around her middle, drawing them close for warmth. She fixed her gaze on the massive view of the endless blue-gray world before her. At the edge of the horizon, where the curve of the summer sky met the steady stretch of water, all the world blurred into one color and one shape. She couldn’t tell where the ocean stopped and the sky began. That’s how her life felt at the moment. She was stuck in that place of blurred lines and constant gray. It was a place where time disappeared, out there, somewhere beyond the deep blue sea.

  She recalled the “Be still and know that I am God” thoughts that had covered her spirit well over a week ago. This morning the exhortation seemed to be “Let go, and know that I am God.” Hanging on by her fingernails was no longer working. If this was to be her life rhythm for a while, then she needed to go with it. She knew that. But she didn’t like it.

  Erin thought of her father. He was the one who coached the rest of them onward in the rough times. Images came to her of the motivational posters he had put up in his office while he was still teaching. Under the pictures of athletes pressing their toned bodies to go beyond normal human limits were phrases such as “Keep going in the face of opposition” and “Fight through the challenges until you can see the finish line.”

  This was her marathon, but she wasn’t prepared.

  Returning to the cottage, Erin checked on her father. He was sleeping. She gave his hand two squeezes and then told Marge she was going shopping.

  This shopping trip wasn’t to the grocery store. This time she drove an hour and ten minutes to the nearest superstore, where she loaded her cart with the survival items she needed to keep her going on this marathon. She started with some warmer clothes. Erin decided while sitting on the bench that she was tired of feeling chilled all the time in the damp, cool climate. She purchased a pair of sweatpants, two long-sleeved T-shirts, a sweater, a hooded jacket, socks, and shoes with thick rubber soles.

  Moving on to the food section, she loaded up on basics and then added several boxes of snack food. She felt especially happy when she found her usual shampoo, which the store in Moss Cove didn’t carry. She added some books to her cart, a CD of praise and relaxation music, and a dozen fresh washcloths.

  Then she returned to the media section and searched until she found a gem. It was a two-CD pack with twenty-four songs performed by three Irish tenors, and the opening tune was “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.” She knew her dad would love it.

  Erin paused in front of the televisions. Her father’s cottage didn’t have a TV. Delores had taken the small one that had been on the dresser in the master bedroom. Her dad didn’t seem to miss it because he always had been opposed to television. During Erin’s childhood her mother insisted they buy one when Erin was in fifth grade. Her father called it “the family idol” and never placed a TV so that it sat center stage in the living room of any home he lived in. He treated it more like a radio that provided news updates and not as a stage that provided entertainment.

  Even as an adult, Erin took awhile to convince herself she could purchase a television if she wanted to. Today she decided she could put the TV someplace in her father’s cottage where it wouldn’t irritate him but would provide Marge and her with some welcome company, especially on the foggy gray days when there was no view to look at out the front windows.

  She selected a small television with a built-in DVD player and managed to load the box into her cart without assistance. As she wheeled her way to the checkout counter, Erin stopped at a bargain DVD display and purchased four old movies she thought her dad might like.

  Still feeling unsettled about buying the television, Erin decided it was because that’s the sort of thing you do when you’re moving into a new place and want to add your own touches of comfort to make it feel like home. She didn’t want to do that. This wasn’t permanent. She needed to get back to her own home, not make this into a home away from home.

  Then she decided that once they were able to move her father to California, she would put the TV in her kitchen. Sharlene had a TV on her kitchen counter and said she often watched the news while making dinner. Erin told herself she would pop in cooking DVDs and make good use of the TV.

  On the drive back to the cottage, Erin called Sharlene twice. When Sharlene didn’t answer, Erin left a short message each time and chose not to deliver the news about her extended stay in a phone message. All she could hope was that Ashley was catching on quickly and would be able to fill in the gaps for another week or so.

  When Erin drove down the gravel stretch back to the cottage, she noticed a truck parked to the side of the garage. An older man wearing a baseball cap was cutting the grass. He waved to Erin, and she smiled and waved back. The neighborly kindness of the folks in this community kept surprising her.

  The man continued with his lawn work as Erin unloaded the car. Marge came out and helped her. The two of them carried the television inside and set it up next to the couch.

  “I was about ready to buy one myself,” Marge said.

  “I bought some music, too, and some books.” Erin held up the new CDs, DVDs, and the books in front of her father as if it were show-and-tell time.

  He made no indication that he was interested in any of it. His eyes were open but it seemed as if nothing was getting through to him. Erin held off putting in the CD of the Irish tenors. Instead she turned on the TV without any sort of rebuttal from her dad. Since she hadn’t called the cable company yet, she put in one of the DVDs she had bought of an old movie with Robert Redford. Jack stared at the TV for most of the movie but seemed more lethargic than usual. By the end of the day he had developed a rattling cough.

  Erin rested little over the next few days since Marge had Sunday off. Her father needed constant care. The suction machine ran at least once every half hour.

  When Marge arrived on Monday morning and took one listen to Jack’s lungs, she was convinced his cough sounded like pneumonia and they needed to take him to see the doctor.

  Getting him in the wheelchair and then in the car was hard work. Erin felt horrible that she hadn’t calculated what was happening with her dad’s cough.

  The doctor who saw them treated Jack with dignity, and that meant a lot to Erin. He seemed thorough and knowledgeable enough to give Erin confidence in his diagnosis.

  “It’s not pneumonia,” the doctor explained. “I’m not saying it couldn’t develop into pneumonia, but at this stage it’s one of the many complications that come with a stroke of the magnitude your father experienced.”

  Erin and Marge both heard that Jack needed more consistent attention with the suction machine and that he needed to move around more. The doctor recommended that Erin rent a proper hospital bed so Jack’s position could be raised and lowered. He also needed a pull-up device to hang above the bed so he could reach for it with his good arm and exercise.


  As Marge and Erin worked together to maneuver Jack back into the car, he put in more effort to assist them than he had on the way there.

  “Well, that’s more like it,” Marge said. “I had a feeling you were holding out on me. You have plenty of strength, Jack. We’re going to get you started on these exercises. No more moping around for you.”

  Once they got him home and comfortable, Erin went upstairs and listened to one of several messages Sharlene had left for her that morning while they were with the doctor.

  “I have some great news. I was able to arrange for three of our brides to attend an exclusive spring show at Mia’s Bridal Boutique on Saturday. I reserved a place for you as well. It’s going to be fantastic. Call me when you can, and let me know if you’re back in the office.”

  Erin regretted that she hadn’t managed to connect with Sharlene over the weekend to tell her that once again her time at Moss Cove was being extended. This was really getting difficult on both ends. She stretched out on the bed, exhausted, and tried to remember what it was like the other times she and Sharlene had taken brides to an exclusive bridal shop, nibbling dainty treats and watching models sashay around the room in the newest designs for spring weddings. That world seemed as if it were from another life, not the one she was stuck in now.

  She listened to Sharlene’s next message, which had been left on her phone an hour earlier. “Hey, I haven’t heard back from you. It was my understanding that you were arriving home today with your dad. Is that right? My brain is on overload. I thought it was today, but I just went past your house, and no one was there. Call me if you need anything. Let’s meet as soon as you’re able. Hopefully, that’ll be tomorrow. Just call me and we’ll figure it out.”

  Sitting up and drawing in a breath for strength, Erin dialed Sharlene’s number.

  “Erin, how are you? How is everything going? Are you home now?”