by Edie Claire
He nodded and opened his own door. “Hey, take it easy!” he couldn’t resist calling as she slammed her door with a bang and started off with a visible wobble in her step. He locked up the car and hurried after her.
***
Laney couldn’t believe the moment had finally come. She’d taken an insane detour to get here, and everything else in her life right now might be one giant, swirling nightmare, but… the Pacific Ocean!
She had to restrain herself from running. There was a trail through the trees around the building, but the light of dusk was dim, the ground was uneven, and bushes and tree branches encroached from every direction. She’d never seen a temperate rainforest in the daylight, and she couldn’t wait until morning to explore this one. But first… oh, she could hear it!
Her foot hit something. She lost her balance and nearly went down, but sheer determination kept her moving. Her head started aching again, but she didn’t care. The sound was amazing. “I’m fine,” she yelled over her shoulder in response to whatever Jason had said. She didn’t want him to think she needed coddling; she owed him way too many favors already.
She rounded the far corner of the lodge and stopped to catch her breath. There it was. The ground under her feet sloped from the dark silhouette of the tree line down past bushes and rocks and tumbled logs till it met the great, dark, water that stretched as far as her eyes could see. The sun had set a good half hour ago, but flame colors lingered in the western sky, illuminating a distant cloudscape and highlighting the whitecaps below.
Her feet began to move again, carrying her closer and closer to where the churning liquid crashed upon the sand. The sight and the sound… all the video in the world couldn’t capture the richness of even those two senses! And yet, there was more. A breeze lifted the hair from her neck, and she breathed in deeply of the strange scent that filled her nostrils. She’d never understood how air could smell salty… but it did! Salty spray, a hint of fishiness, wetness, earthiness, and… was that seaweed? She didn’t know. But she would soon figure it out!
She kept walking closer, stopping only when the sand before her shone with recent moisture. If the air hitting her cheeks wasn’t quite so cold, she’d be tempted to kick off her shoes and wade, but… well, she did have some common sense left. She raised her chin and fixed her gaze on the horizon, mesmerized by the endless movement, the continually changing, complex patterns of the waves. Those crashing on the giant boulders and jumbled rocks made one sound; those folding in on themselves before splashing upon the sand made another. Far out to sea, infinitely more waves rolled and rocked, each to its own rhythm, based on the tides and the wind and the currents beneath and the waves to the right and the left. Such an enormous volume of water! Even contemplating the physical power it contained was beyond her grasp. But absorbing the sheer, raw beauty of it… she felt she could stare for a lifetime and never take it in.
She lifted her hands to grasp the arm of the man next to her, but stopped herself in time. Some primitive impulse to share the magic of the moment, no doubt. If only her mother were here. Or her Gran. Or any of her friends.
Her eyes welled with hot liquid, but the emotion wasn’t sadness. The ocean was too beautiful for that. Her mom and Gran would be happy for her. Her friends would be, too. She could be alone and still feel joyous. And she did.
She stood perfectly still, basking in it all, for quite some time.
“Is it everything you thought it would be?” Jason asked her finally.
Laney nodded with a smile. She would say that when she reached for him, she’d forgotten who he was, but she’d be lying. Her animal subconscious was acutely aware of his presence. He had been watching her this whole time, experiencing her joy vicariously. And her animal subconscious liked it.
Thank God she had a brain.
He gestured down the beach to where the land curved and a jumble of boulders jutted out into the water. The waves crashed around its base with an exciting hum, and as she watched, she could imagine herself standing barefoot upon it, feeling the power of the ocean resonate through the rocks. “Look inviting?” he asked.
She took a step in that direction.
He stopped her with a gentle hand upon her arm, his deep voice rumbling with laughter. “I wasn’t serious! That’s where you—”
“Well, how am I supposed to know?” Laney shot back, embarrassed. An unexpected warmth crept from his hand through her sweater and up her arm. It had been a long time since… Never mind. She shook him off, then let out an unladylike snort of laughter. He was right, it was pretty funny. Or at least it would be if it’d happened to some other idiot. “Fine. Yuck it up. Then can we pretend my little adventure on the rocks never happened, please?”
He continued to chuckle. “Sure.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to see your room now?” he offered. “It’s uh… kind of cold to be out here without a coat.”
Laney hadn’t noticed. She drew in another breath of the fascinating sea aroma. “I’ll be back,” she promised the ocean. Then she turned around.
The surfing lodge perched on the slope ahead of her was a single story building of modest construction, in contrast to the expensive private homes to its south and the sprawling resort to its north. Though tightly wedged in between its neighbors, it was separated from them by clusters of trees, creating the feel of a private retreat. A giant picture window faced the ocean, and a door opened onto a wooden staircase that led down the slope, first to a spacious deck and then to a circle of logs and a fire pit on the beach.
“It looks very nice, for the price,” Laney complimented. Even as she spoke, a small group of people emerged, talking and laughing, and descended toward the deck. They appeared to be carrying plates. “You serve meals, too?”
Jason chuckled. “Oh, no. I provide a full kitchen and — for an additional fee — private mini-fridges. Most people buy groceries and cook their own. Restaurant meals are crazy expensive here.”
“I see,” Laney replied. She was annoyingly short of breath all of a sudden, and she stopped a moment, calculating whether it would be easier to take the stairs or to ascend the steep path she’d just come down. When a wave of nausea threatened, she opted for the route with a handrail.
She began walking again, and noticed that Jason fell into step behind her, rather than beside her. How interesting. If he had picked up on her sudden lightheadedness, he was more perceptive than he seemed.
“So what’s the career path one takes to run a surf lodge?” she asked, slowing her steps to catch up on her breathing. “Do you get a degree in business, or do you just surf until you win the lottery?”
“Neither,” he replied. “In my case, you get an interdisciplinary major in physics and ocean science, blow your life savings rehabbing a scumbag hostel no one else will buy, bust your butt turning a profit, and then eventually reinvest in a new building.”
Laney stopped climbing stairs and turned around. Damn, her legs felt weak. She was also confused. “You majored in physics and what?”
“Ocean science,” he answered. “You know, surfing stuff.”
She couldn’t see his face clearly, but from the hint of humor in his voice, it was clear he was messing with her — probably for assuming he wasn’t smart enough to major in something like physics. Well, that was fair. She was surprised. Surfers were supposed to be mental lightweights.
She turned back around and continued the climb. The slower she got, the closer he followed. Hmm. The man was indeed smarter than he looked.
They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, with the exception of the few words Jason exchanged with his guests on the deck, all of whom seemed to know him well. The woman in the group was clearly flirting with him, which Laney supposed most women did. But he kept pace immediately behind her, a fact for which she was secretly grateful, since her knees nearly buckled three times. When at last they reached the building, Laney opened the door for herself and stepped inside.
�
��This is the common room,” Jason explained, moving around her and pointing as he talked. “You’ve got your kitchen, your rental fridges, and your coin-operated laundry. There’s a table for eating meals, but no lounge furniture. Alcohol and smokes stay strictly outside. So does the partying. I rent space for people to sleep and eat, and I make sure everyone can do that comfortably. The idea—” His phone rang, and he frowned as he pulled it out to check the number. Then he declined the call and repocketed the phone.
Laney watched him as he moved. Even without the ridiculously handsome face, the man radiated sex appeal. His lean, strong, and well-proportioned form was destined to draw the female eye, and she was not immune. Her gaze was still fixed on the play of muscles beneath his tight-fitting shirt when he spoke again.
“Why don’t I take you to your room, and then I’ll bring your bags in,” he suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement as Laney — a beat too late — returned her attention to his face.
“Fine,” she said curtly, annoyed with herself. He’d been very nice and was proving inordinately useful, but besides being out of her league on the attraction index, the man was obviously a player. The glimpse she’d gotten of his phone had showed a whole screenful of text notifications in addition to the calls, most of which, she was sure, were from women.
He led her through the common room and down a hallway, then turned a corner. “Half-baths and showers are staggered with the rooms. They’re all shared, but each is separate with its own door, and everything’s gender neutral.”
Laney nodded, impressed with the layout. It seemed like a place she could be comfortable staying alone.
He led her to a numbered door, opened it with a key, and stepped aside. “Home sweet home,” he said with a smile.
Laney stepped in to see her puffy winter coat hanging on a peg.
“I took everything else to the hospital, but your coat was still a bit damp,” he explained. “Do you know what happened to your room key? The paramedics found it in your pocket, but I don’t know what—”
“It’s in my backpack,” Laney replied, admiring the setup. The room was tiny, but it had everything one needed for a comfortable night’s sleep. It even had a screened window that opened, with thick shrubbery and a pull-down blind for privacy. She smiled. “This is great. Did you come up with the design yourself?”
Jason’s gray-green eyes flickered with pleasure, but before he could answer, his phone rang again. He frowned and checked the number. He silenced the call, but whoever it was had distracted him enough to forget her question. “Listen,” he began, “I know you probably just want to kick back and rest right now, but the fact is, there’s no food here. Are you hungry?”
Laney hadn’t thought about it, but since she’d barely touched either breakfast or lunch, the mere mention of food made her stomach growl. Loudly. “I’d say that’s a yes.”
He grinned. “Tell you what. I’m meeting a friend in town for dinner — why don’t you join us? You’ve met him before actually, it’s the guy who carried you in from the beach yesterday. He’s an oceanographer working on his doctorate — great guy, really interesting to talk to. Then afterwards I’ll take you to the co-op and you can stock up on groceries for the week. What do you say? If you’re not too tired, that is?”
Laney hesitated. She didn’t want to feel any more beholden to Jason. But she probably did owe her second rescuer a personal thanks, and there was no way around her immediate need for inexpensive food. Besides, eating out with the guys sounded like fun. The majority of her colleagues were male; she was used to being the only woman at a table.
“Sounds great,” she agreed.
Chapter 11
Peck, Missouri, Five Days Ago
Laney stepped out of the small brick bungalow that served as the Peck post office and looked up. It was just past noon, and the clouds that had dimmed the cold January light all morning had finally decided to scatter. The sky was mostly clear now, with a cheerful blue hue.
The day hadn’t been going so badly after all, even if she was operating on near zero sleep. Her package for the laboratory had been successfully sent on its way, as had the majority of a morning’s worth of paid bills and completed paperwork. She had even managed, by sheer luck of online searching, to engage a highly motivated real estate agent who had driven out from Poplar Bluff immediately, taken pictures of the house, and promised to get it listed ASAP. She had not promised to sell it ASAP, but that fact spoke well of her honesty. Much as Laney loved the old house, it was an oversized, antiquated relic in an economically depressed town, and she could afford to turn down no offer, reasonable or otherwise.
Rays of cool sun bathed Laney’s face, and she found herself smiling. Why not walk the long way home? One could circumnavigate the entirety of Peck without much commitment, but any exercise would be good for her. She’d been sedentary for weeks now; it was time she built her strength up and began looking forward.
Gradually, her smile faded. Try as she might, she seemed unable to muster any real joy about her future. Her academic motivation, too, was lagging. She knew she was grieving the loss of her mother, as well as that of the great-grandmother she knew, but still, she couldn’t shake the belief that her malaise went deeper than it should. That it had started, truly, even before her mother’s illness. Inertia in any form had never been in her nature, and her inability to “snap out of it” now seemed like a personal failure.
She didn’t even know where she would go from here — where she would live, what she would do. The timing of her mother’s death had resulted in missed deadlines for her reenrollment in the spring semester, and though she could get a waiver for late registration, reinstating her fellowship funds was another matter. Barring an administrative miracle, she wouldn’t be able to return to graduate school until June, at the earliest. And though it might make sense financially for her to stay put until the house was sold, the idea of living in Peck without her mom and Gran filled her with sorrow.
A brisk wind kicked up, swirling dead leaves and paper trash around her ankles. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, hugged her coat more tightly around her, and pressed on. The sidewalks under her feet were cracked and broken, as was much of the rest of the town’s humble infrastructure. The whole area had suffered greatly from the opioid crisis, and its fortunes had dwindled even since Laney left it. Though many of the houses around her were still cared for as meticulously as they had been in her childhood, others had become dilapidated, and a few were boarded up and abandoned. Everyone knew someone who was affected by addiction. Virtually no family had been left untouched, and entirely too many children were in foster care. Christi had been training to become a foster mother when she got her diagnosis.
Laney blew out a breath and tried to regroup. She did have good memories here. Peck was a friendly place, and her childhood had been a warm and happy one. She had grown up knowing all the neighbors and having all the neighbors know her.
See, that’s another thing! Wouldn’t the neighbors have noticed you were a different kid?
She wished she could stop the doubting, the constant internal debate. She’d promised herself that once her package was mailed, she would put the issue out of her mind. But apparently, it wasn’t that easy.
Yes, of course they would have noticed. Forget about it.
She walked by the square, yellow-brick church building that had once housed her preschool. Her memories of it were largely pleasant, except for the one that stood out starkest, even after all these years. She’d once punched a classmate. It was the first and last time she’d ever engaged in physical fighting, but she had been wholly unrepentant. The little brat had had it coming.
“Laney’s got no Da-ad! Laney’s got no Da-d!” She could hear his taunting singsong as if it were yesterday. But the words he actually said were not the heart of the conflict. There was no shame in having a father who had died with military honors. What the obnoxious little boy had taunted her over was the lack of photographs on her shoddily
drawn family tree. Everyone else in the class had pictures of relatives on both their mothers’ and their fathers’ sides. Laney’s tree was grossly lopsided.
She stopped and stared at the basement windows. The child — whose name she had long since forgotten — probably was an insufferable brat. But it would be safe to say that preschool Laney had been overly sensitive on the issue. As well-loved as she had always felt in Peck, being cut off from Jimbo’s family was a pill she’d found bitter to swallow.
Why weren’t you allowed to see them?
Laney started walking again, her pace unnaturally brisk. She had to stop this. It was crazy. Her mother had good reason for keeping the Millers at bay during her childhood. Jimbo’s long-divorced parents were both alcoholics and had neglected Jimbo as a baby, which is why he — like Christi — had been raised by his grandmother. Jimbo had cut ties with both of his parents the day he’d turned eighteen, and he had reportedly never looked back, even after his grandmother died. Of course, as a child, Laney couldn’t grasp such complexities. Instead she had fantasized about her mystery grandparents and blamed her mother for their absence.
Because his family would have known you weren’t the same kid.
Laney gritted her teeth and kept walking. Christi had made the right decision about the Millers. Laney herself had proven that point when, at the tender and impossible age of thirteen, she had played detective and acquired her grandmother’s phone number. Remembering the brief, traumatic call spurred a surge of acid in her gut, even now. Not only did Jimbo’s mother blame his young widow for encouraging his enlistment and thus his death — she’d had the gall to deny that Christi’s daughter was actually his child. Over the phone. To that child herself.
Laney’s steps halted abruptly. Dear God, no.
She drew in a breath and held it, her mind searching frantically for the exact words Jimbo’s mother had spoken.
Had she known? Is that why she hated her daughter-in-law so? Is that why they wanted nothing to do with me? Think, Laney. Think!