The Summer Retreat

by Sheila Roberts

  “You have enough men interested in you anyway,” Celeste teased.

  “You’re not doing so bad yourself. When are you and Paul going out?”

  “Tomorrow night. We’re doing dinner.”

  “Well, there’s one man you won’t have to worry about cheating on you. Paul’s probably as noble as they come.”

  Celeste picked up a stick and tossed it for Nemo, who went racing after it. “I’ve got to admit that kind of bothers me.”

  “What?”

  The dog came back with the stick, but when Celeste went to take it, he dodged her. “Good grief, nobody’s even taught you how to play fetch?” she lamented. She and Nemo got into a tug of war over the stick and she gave up, letting him have it. Of course he promptly dropped it and stood there, wagging his tail. “You don’t know what you want,” she informed him. But then, neither did she.

  “Come on, urp it out,” Jenna prompted as Celeste threw the stick again.

  “I’m not exactly pastor girlfriend material. He’s all...and I’m...”

  “You’re what?” Jenna looked genuinely perplexed.

  “I’m not exactly Miss Snow White.”

  Jenna’s eyes widened. “You mean just because you’ve been with other men? Come on, by this age nobody expects you to be a virgin.”

  “How do I know Paul doesn’t? At any rate, he’s going to want a woman who’s got her life together.”

  “Yours is,” Jenna said, ever the loyal sister. “You just haven’t picked good men in the past.”

  “That’s called not having your life together.”

  “Trust me. Paul’s not the kind of man to hold people’s pasts against them. And if the worst you’ve ever done is love someone too much, I don’t think you’re in bad shape.”

  Celeste sighed. “I hope you’re right. I’m definitely interested, although, really, I can’t even imagine what we have in common.”

  “That’s why you’re going out to dinner, to find out.”

  They caught sight of people approaching from the other direction—an older woman, a woman somewhere around Jenna’s age and two little girls, both racing along the beach. Nemo had spotted them, too, and bounded off to meet the strangers.

  “Susan Frank! What’s she doing away from her shop?” Jenna mused. “You’d better call him back. If he jumps on her, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Nemo!” Celeste called. “Come here, boy!”

  Nemo had selective hearing. He charged forward, anxious to make new friends.

  “Nemo!” Celeste injected more authority into her voice. Of course the dog wasn’t listening. She ran after him, hoping he wouldn’t jump on anyone.

  Too late for that. By the time Celeste got to them, he’d jumped on one of the little girls, pushing her down and making her yelp. And then cry. Oh, great.

  “Nemo, bad dog,” Celeste said, grabbing his collar and pulling him off.

  “Is this your dog?” Susan asked Jenna, who’d come up behind Celeste.

  “No. He’s a stray,” Jenna sad. “He followed my sister home and we’re trying to find out who he belongs to.”

  “He’s got a collar,” pointed out the woman with Susan. There was enough of a resemblance between her and Susan to know that this was her daughter.

  “I bought that for him,” Celeste said.

  “So you’re in charge of him?” Susan demanded.

  “I guess so.”

  Nemo was straining to get to the kids. Tail wagging, he let out an eager bark.

  The little girl he’d knocked down wanted nothing to do with him and was crying and hiding behind her mother. The other child reached out to pet him, but her grandmother took her arm and pulled her away.

  “Don’t touch him,” Susan cautioned. “He might bite.”

  “Oh, honestly,” Jenna said in disgust. “He’s more likely to lick them to death.”

  “He’s really friendly,” Celeste insisted. “Are you okay, sweetie?” she asked the crying child.

  “Of course she’s not okay,” Susan snapped. “That mongrel scared her to death.”

  “Sorry,” Celeste muttered.

  “Come on, girls,” said the other woman. “Let’s go back. We need to start home anyway.”

  “If you’re going to keep that dog, you need to get a leash,” Susan informed Celeste. They turned to leave, and Nemo broke free and began to trot alongside them. “Go on, get out of here,” Susan yelled, shooing him away.

  Nemo still didn’t understand the whole shooing-away thing. He barked and wagged his tail, bowing in an effort to get Susan to play with him.

  “Nemo, no!” Celeste grabbed the dog’s collar again. “Now, stay with us,” she commanded, turning him around.

  “Yeah,” Jenna added as they walked away. “You don’t want to hang out with Susan Frank.”

  Celeste picked up another stick and threw it, distracting the dog. “Does that woman ever smile?”

  “It’s rare. Maybe if her business did better, she’d have something to smile about.”

  “Courtney oughta buy her out.”

  “I think if Susan would ever sell, she would. She doesn’t show any signs of leaving, though. She’ll be here forever, just like sand fleas.”

  “Oh, well, at least Aunt Edie isn’t shopping there anymore.”

  “Thank God for that,” Jenna said. “Now the only places I have to see Susan are at chamber meetings and church.”

  “People like that give church a bad name,” Celeste said.

  Jenna shrugged. “You know the saying—if you find the perfect church and join it, it won’t be perfect anymore. We all have flaws.”

  Which made Celeste think of Pastor Paul. What were his flaws? And how accepting was he of other peoples’? She hoped he practiced what he preached.

  He didn’t seem to have any flaws, she thought the next evening as they settled at a table in Sandy’s restaurant. It wasn’t as impressive as The Porthole, which offered more expensive food and great views of the ocean, but oh, well. He was probably on a budget.

  A man on a budget wasn’t a problem for Celeste. Her family had never had a lot of money when she was growing up. But her mom and grandparents and Aunt Edie and Uncle Ralph had all made sure that she and Jenna had a happy childhood. Other than a weakness for purses, she still wasn’t a big spender and was content to go dancing with girlfriends or curl up on the couch on a rainy night with a good book or a movie or play around with a craft project. She didn’t need fancy trappings to be happy.

  “I hope you like seafood,” he said as they opened their menus.

  “Absolutely. How can you come to the beach and not like seafood?”

  He smiled at her. “Are you normally this easy to please?”

  “I like to think so. Are you normally this nice?”

  “I like to think so.”

  Yes, she could get used to Paul Welch.

  Their waitress appeared. “Can I start you off with a drink?”

  A drink. Priests drank. What about Protestant pastors? A glass of wine sounded really good to Celeste. If she ordered one, would he think she was a lush? But if she couldn’t be herself and order a drink...

  “Would you like some wine?” he offered.

  “You drink?”

  “Not very often,” he admitted.

  “Oh.” Okay, that was awkward. “Lemonade,” Celeste told the waitress.

  “Make that two,” said Paul. “Would you have preferred a glass of wine?” he asked as their waitress left.

  She sighed. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

  “What?”

  “Lemonade.”

  “Is the fact that I’m not a big drinker a deal-breaker?”

  “Well,” she said, considering.

  “I like a beer once in a while, but for t
he most part I avoid alcohol. I have an uncle who’s an alcoholic and watching all the chaos that came with that was enough to keep me away from booze. Anyway,” he added with a shrug, “I try not to do things that might offend a member of my congregation. And I wouldn’t want someone to start drinking because he saw me doing it and then end up with a problem.”

  Very noble but... “You must not have much fun,” Celeste said. Not that she was a big drinker, but who didn’t like a mojito or a glass of good wine now and then? This was definitely not going to work.

  “I don’t know. I think I manage to have plenty of fun.”

  “Doing what?” she challenged.

  “I like to hike, play a game of pick-up basketball once in a while, go to baseball games, mountain bike, watch a good mystery on TV. I even eat chocolate.”

  “At least that’s something I wouldn’t have to give up if I started hanging out with you.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to give up anything,” he said. “Life’s for living, Celeste.”

  “So if I wanted a glass of wine?”

  “Jesus’s first miracle was turning water into wine.”

  Even so, people at her mom’s church didn’t drink it, not even at communion. For that they used grape juice. “You really are not a normal pastor,” she said, shaking her head at him.

  “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

  “Pastor,” called a voice.

  Celeste turned to see Susan Frank approaching, along with Hyacinth and another woman she’d seen at church. Oh, joy.

  He raised a hand in greeting. “Hi, ladies. How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” Susan answered for all of them. “Did you find that dog’s owner yet?” she asked Celeste, her tone of voice making it sound more like an interrogation than a question.

  “No. I’m going to adopt him.”

  “Then I hope you take him to obedience school,” Susan said, her mouth turning down at the corners.

  She wasn’t the only one not looking all that cheery. Hyacinth didn’t seem very happy to see Celeste, and neither did the other woman.

  “You ladies enjoy your dinner,” Paul said. It was done with a smile, but it was a dismissal all the same, and the women had no choice but to move on.

  “I guess you can’t go anywhere without running into someone from church,” Celeste said, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about people always checking them out—it could feel like living in a fish bowl. Or like being examined for cooties, which was a little how she felt at the moment.

  “I don’t mind,” he said. “I like people.”

  “Me, too.” There was something they had in common, and a very important something. Celeste liked to have friends over; she liked to party. Her sister used to joke that Celeste had never met a person she didn’t like.

  The women had taken a table not far from them, and she was aware of all three looking speculatively in her direction. One in particular wasn’t looking too friendly. Maybe Jenna was wrong about Celeste never having met a person she didn’t like, because she wasn’t so sure she liked Hyacinth.

  She knew why Hyacinth didn’t like her. Competition.

  It wasn’t the first time another woman had given Celeste the stare of doom. She had good friends who would always be there for her, no matter what, but she’d also experienced the animosity of insecure women who viewed her as a threat. She was enough of a people-pleaser to want everyone to like her, but there was no way this woman ever would.

  Hyacinth could shoot death stares at her until her eyes burned up, Celeste decided, but if she wanted to spend time with Pastor Paul she darn well would. So there. You had your chance to snag him, little flower, and you failed. You snooze, you lose.

  And as she and Paul talked, getting to know each other, she decided he was worth hanging on to. She didn’t feel that undercurrent of danger and excitement she’d felt when she was with Emerson, but she’d seen where that led. Paul had principles, and she was sure whomever he ended up with, he’d be loyal to until the day he died. Now, that was a turn-on.

  They chatted easily through the rest of dinner. He regaled her with stories of church programs that didn’t go according to plan, including a New Year’s Eve service where he’d had the congregation write down their worries and then burn them in a metal urn.

  “Great symbolism,” she said.

  “Yeah, it sounded great, but in reality we about choked to death. The smoke was so thick we set off the fire alarm and had to hold the rest of the service out in the foyer,” he said, shaking his head. “At least the party before was a success. We rang in the New Year on Eastern time so all the kids could stay up, dropped balloons from a net in the ceiling. It was great.”

  “You are a fun pastor,” she told him.

  “Life can be hard. It’s important not to let that overshadow what’s good.”

  It was all Celeste could do not to say, “Wow.” Instead, she said, “I like that saying. I think I’ll tweet it.”

  “Go for it,” he said with a smile. Then he sobered. “It looks like you’re not doing badly yourself. Jenna tells me you’re a really good teacher. You’re obviously also a good sister, down here helping out at the inn.”

  So her sister had been bragging about her. Celeste couldn’t help smiling. Still, once Paul got to know her better... “I’m not perfect.”

  “What a coincidence,” he said with a grin. “Me, neither.”

  Although he sure seemed close. He took her home and walked her up the steps of Aunt Edie’s house to the front door. “Can we do this again?”

  “Definitely,” she said, giving him her most charming smile. Now he’d kiss her.

  He nodded. “Okay. I’ll call you.” And with that, he turned and ran lightly down the stairs.

  No kiss? She stood on the porch for a minute, trying to take that in. What man didn’t want to kiss a woman good-night?

  Pastor Paul, obviously. So he didn’t kiss on the first date. She could respect that. It was actually rather sweet. Finally, a man who didn’t want to get in her pants before they’d gotten to know each other. She opened the door with a smile.

  But by the time she’d gotten inside the house, the smile was fading. What on earth was she doing? Paul wasn’t the kind of man who went out with a woman simply for a good time. Any relationship he got into, he’d be getting into with an eye to making it permanent.

  It was what she’d been wanting, of course. But what if things did turn serious? People had certain expectations when it came to pastors’ wives. A pastor’s wife had to walk the talk. She had to be noble and selfless and...

  Oh, boy. What was she thinking anyway?

  That she wanted to be noble and selfless. She liked being back at church, and she wanted to get her life right, settle down and have a family.

  But could she do that with Paul? Could she handle it? At some point they needed to have a talk about her not-so-perfect past.

  * * *

  Sabrina came home from spending the weekend with her father all smiles. Jenna concluded that, as with every visit to the ex, Grandma and Grandpa, who picked up a lot of the slack for Damien, had taken her somewhere fabulous.

  It turned out, however, that her high spirits had nothing to do with her grandparents. “Daddy and Aurora broke up,” she announced as she and Jenna worked in the kitchen, assembling goodies for a Sunday-night movie binge.

  Come to think of it, Jenna hadn’t seen any sign of the “other woman” when she’d driven Sabrina up to Seattle on Friday to her former in-laws’ house, where Damien had his struggling artist suite in the basement. Aurora was often the one opening the door to let Sabrina in before Jenna drove off. Jenna had finally reached the point where seeing the two cheaters together didn’t bother her. They could have each other.

  The one thing that did bother her was the two cheaters having each other, plus a portion
of her earnings. It would be nice if Damien would hurry up and become the Dale Chihuly of junk sculpture. Then she could come after him for support.

  Still, even though she didn’t care anymore that he’d replaced her with a new soul mate, she couldn’t help feeling a little twinge of satisfaction on hearing her daughter’s news. The cheater got left. Poetic justice.

  Jenna opted for mature and didn’t gloat or so much as crack a smile. It was hard not to.

  “I’m glad she’s gone,” Sabrina said.

  Celeste walked into the kitchen, bearing a grocery bag with root beer and ice cream for floats. “Who’s gone?”

  “Aurora.” Sabrina said the name as if it was synonymous with feces. Actually, it kind of was.

  “You’re kidding.” Celeste pulled glasses down from the cupboard. “What happened?”

  Yes, do tell. Jenna hadn’t been about to ask—that maturity thing again—but she was glad her sister had.

  “Daddy said she didn’t understand him.”

  Who did?

  Jenna set a dish of chocolate-covered raisins on the tray, along with smoked almonds and Skittles. She was aware of her daughter’s speculative gaze as she put the popcorn in the microwave. Oh, boy.

  “I think Daddy misses you.”

  Yep, she’d been afraid that was coming. Of course, like many children of divorce, Sabrina wanted her parents back together.

  “Oh, I doubt it,” Jenna said, trying not to let her dread of the looming conversation bleed into her voice.

  “Did he say that?” Celeste asked, incredulous.

  “Not exactly. But I know he does.”

  Her daughter, the teen psychic. “Honey, Daddy didn’t want to be with me anymore.” Okay, that still bruised her pride a little. “Sometimes two people think they’re right for each other and later find out they were wrong.”

  “But you loved each other,” Sabrina protested.

  Jenna and Celeste exchanged glances. How did you explain to a girl madly in love with her boyfriend that love was a flower that sometimes died in spite of how much you watered it?

  “We did,” Jenna said. “Sometimes things happen.”

  “Yeah, like Aurora,” Sabrina said bitterly.