by Jenny Hale
“Hope I didn’t get paint on you,” he said, inspecting her fingers. There was an awkward pause. “So… I’m sorry. I’ve been going on and on but… You might need to be left alone.”
“We had a tough moment with my uncle just now and it shook me up.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”
Hallie recounted the events, every word sounding like someone else’s life.
“I just got here; I wish I’d come sooner. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Thank you, but he’s okay for now, I think. We got him inside and settled.”
“I worry about him, being out here alone. Sometimes I break up my painting into different days just so I can come more often to check on him. The people I’ve met in town are all really concerned about him. They say he’s never been like this. They all miss him, but I know he’s hurting.” He took a step to the side, and she felt her shoulders momentarily tense, but Gavin had a trustworthy quality about him that made her remind herself to relax.
“That’s really kind of you.”
“Well, I’ll get back to work, but let me know if you need anything.” His words were friendly, and he spoke with a familiarity as if they’d known each other for some time.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if he could sense all her pain, and see through her counterfeit smile. But he picked up the paint cans and said goodbye over his shoulder, before disappearing around the side of the house.
The house was so isolated that no one would hear if they needed help, so it was good to know Gavin was around at least sometimes. What had it been like for Uncle Hank to spend every night here alone? She’d been selfish not to have come before now, and her heart ached with that reality. She was glad they were all there. She couldn’t believe Uncle Hank had lived here on his own in the shape he was in, and without Aunt Clara.
Mama had been able to get some time off to visit a few months ago, but Uncle Hank hadn’t been as frail as he was now. As far as Hallie knew he’d been fine then, and he also hadn’t mentioned anything amiss about the property. With Aunt Clara gone, people around Firefly Beach had tried to look out for Uncle Hank, but amidst his grief, he’d shut everyone out. He hadn’t seen any of his friends since the funeral. When their good friend Maggie had called Mama to say no one had seen Hank in weeks, they all knew that they had to go down to be with him.
It had taken them quite a while to get Hank inside from the dock, his steps awkward and small. He kept creating excuses—he was just tired; they were making more of it than it was—but he’d been struggling to catch his breath by the time they’d made it into the house and to a chair. Hallie noticed he hadn’t gotten up after that.
Hallie headed back inside to check on Mama and her sister. She found them both outside Mama’s bedroom. Mama was grateful to have her bags in her room, thanks to Ben. By her downturned features, the day had clearly taken its toll on her, and she told Hallie that after she called the police station about the prowler, she wanted to lie down for a little while.
“This is a big house,” Sydney said quietly, as the two of them walked outside so Robby could play on the beach again. “How will he continue to live here if every day is like this? His room is upstairs. He could hardly find his balance to get up the three steps to the back porch. And what if he’s in danger?” Sydney pulled her eyes from Robby and cast a troubled look over to Hallie, her auburn curls fuzzing up with the humidity and the effort she’d exerted to bring Uncle Hank inside.
“Maybe he’ll get better with all of us here. And maybe our presence will keep whoever it is away from the house,” Hallie said, grasping for hope. If she didn’t hope, she’d start sobbing right there in the yard. Her head pounded and she felt exhausted. All she wanted to do was to get into a cool shower, let the water run over her until she was numb, put on her pajamas, and crawl into her crisp sheets, drifting off to give her mind a break from all this.
“You look really beat,” Sydney said. “I’m gonna sit on the beach with Robby for a little while. Why don’t you go find Ben and fill him in on everything? We can take a break and then regroup once we’ve all rested. Let’s have dinner together.”
Hallie inhaled the salty air and let it out. “That sounds great.”
“Tell Ben thank you for bringing in our bags.”
Hallie was so lucky that Ben had been able to come with them, and she needed him now more than ever. Her limbs shook with the events of the day, and she wanted to curl up next to him and bury her head in his chest. “I’ll tell him,” she said. Hallie turned around and headed toward the guesthouse.
When she entered, Ben had papers full of lyrics, sheet music, and timetables spread out on the island and music playing—there was always music playing when he was around. The air carried a sweet scent of blackberry and alcohol, and she knew immediately what it was. Two small glasses, filled with her favorite dessert wine, sat on the kitchen counter.
The sun streamed through the large windows that overlooked the gulf, giving a glow to the whitewashed walls and painted floors. Aunt Clara had decorated the guesthouse in whites and nautical blues, and Hallie had always loved the rustic, beachy feel of it. When Aunt Clara was drawing the design, Hallie had sat beside her, madly scratching her own sketches in her drawing book, trying to copy what Aunt Clara had done.
She took one of the glasses and walked through the open room to the sofa, sinking down into it.
“I heard you heading up the walk,” Ben said, coming in from the small hallway that led to the single bedroom. He grabbed his glass and lowered himself onto the sofa next to her. Their eyes met before he took a sip of wine. “How tough was it?” he asked, placing the glass on the coffee table, which was made from an old rowing oar. “From the look on your face, I’d say it was pretty hard.”
Hallie leaned forward, positioned her wine next to his, and put her face in her hands, totally drained. “Uncle Hank isn’t well,” she said through her fingers. Her eyes ached with the threat of tears, which made her whole body feel weak. “And there’s more than that.” She told him about the prowler and Uncle Hank’s lack of strength, the dizziness, how worried she was…
Ben pulled her in for a hug. Hallie nestled against his chest. His calming presence would keep her afloat. It had only taken one call to let him know she needed him and he’d packed, and driven straight over to be with Hallie and her family. But suddenly, something hit her. She’d been so wrapped up in her own emotions that she hadn’t even stopped to consider what Ben was giving up by being there.
“Weren’t you going to cut that record with the band you’d heard at The Bluebird?” she worried aloud. He’d texted her before things had gotten so bad with Aunt Clara, so excited to have found this group—only now had she remembered through the fog of everything going on. She tilted her head to look up at him.
“I pushed it to the end of summer.”
Her eyes grew wide, knowing how long he’d already had to wait to get them into the studio, given his busy schedule.
“It’s fine. It’s music festival season; everyone’s focused on that. I told them it would be wise to hold off until the fall. September’s really the best time for new bands. They said they could use a little more writing time anyway. They have a slightly different direction they’re thinking about, and they want to run it by me, but they need more time to get their songs down.”
“That seems awfully easy. Are you just trying to make me feel better for dragging you away?”
He chuckled and then his face became humorless, his entire focus on her. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.” Then he gave her a big squeeze, leaned forward, and handed her the glass of wine.
She was still apprehensive, realizing that not only had she not thought about his work commitments, she hadn’t asked about Ben’s girlfriend either. Ashley was three years younger than Hallie, kind and soft-spoken, and Hallie could relate to her quiet nature. She and H
allie had hit it off right away when Ben introduced them at a Christmas party, after Ben had first met her. Hallie and Ashley had all kinds of things in common: they shared the same taste in music, they’d read the same books, they’d even both volunteered at the same homeless shelter. But more noteworthy was the fact that Ashley had also spent summers at Firefly Beach since she was a girl. Her family had a cottage just down the road. It was a wonder, with all that, that they hadn’t met sooner.
“Was Ashley okay with you coming?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah.”
“She’s so great. She’s just the kind of girl you should be with. You deserve someone fantastic like her.”
He smiled, and then shifted away from Hallie again to reach his wine. He took a long swig. “What’s the plan for the rest of the evening?” he asked, changing the subject. That was just like Ben: always giving her his full attention, worrying more about her wellbeing than his own.
She yawned, the day’s events catching up with her. “I think we’re all going to try to have dinner together.”
“Everyone’s too tired to cook, I’m sure. How about if I order some food for everybody and run into town to pick it up? Maybe Wes and Maggie’s?”
“That sounds amazing.”
“Perfect. Find out what everybody wants, and I’ll put in an order.”
Hallie pulled out her phone and texted Sydney to let her know the plan. “I’ll go with you,” she said, happy to have a reason to go into town and let the magic of Firefly Beach seep into her soul, like it always could.
FIVE
The red and blue bungalow known as Wes and Maggie’s was surrounded by palm trees and sat right on the water in a strip of sand. The restaurant’s glow of outdoor lighting made it shine against the streaks of aqua and deep blue of the Gulf of Mexico behind it. Matching red and blue flags, fighting madly against the coastal wind, lined the outdoor seating, which was full of vacationers, their faces all flushed from too much sun and the cocktails they were being served under the evening sky. The intense heat had subsided to a bearable balminess with the sunset.
“It’s been a while,” Ben said, opening Hallie’s door of the jeep.
Next to Wes and Maggie’s was Cup of Sunshine, the local coffee shop. It was quiet this evening, but in the mornings, year-round, every seat was full. Locals and visitors alike couldn’t get enough of their signature butter pecan latte or their homemade pumpkin pie breakfast bread, and the owner Melissa even prepared delicious French toast served with a drizzle of cream cheese syrup. Every patron, no matter how small the purchase, went home with a complimentary dark chocolate truffle that had an icing-piped chocolate sunshine on the top. As they walked past, Melissa caught her eye through the window of the shop and waved.
“Should we get a drink at the bar before we pick up the food?” Ben said, pulling Hallie’s focus back to him.
“I owe you one anyway,” she said, playfully knocking into him with her shoulder. “We were tied the whole trip! And you found golf clubs at the last minute before the game was over—I can’t believe you found golf clubs.” He’d spotted them hanging out of the back of someone’s car, filled to the brim with vacation paraphernalia.
It felt good to be in town with Ben. It made Hallie feel more normal, since they’d spent so many years here together. Before everything had happened with Jeff and Aunt Clara, Hallie had been full of life. She loved to laugh—Ben could make her laugh without even trying and sometimes, when he did try, they’d get to laughing so hard that her sides hurt and her jaw felt like it would cramp up and freeze into a smile if she didn’t offer it relief. She yearned to feel it again.
“Nah, my treat.”
“You won, fair and square.”
“You can get me one later,” he said. They reached the restaurant, and Ben allowed Hallie to enter first, the interior taking her back to better times.
The small bistro tables with starfish and seashells floating from the ceiling, suspended by fishing lines, were just as they had been the last time she’d visited; the bar had the same driftwood stools, and Wes was serving drinks. He greeted them across the room with an excited wave and a warm smile.
Simon Petty, a local landscaper, was at his post at the end of the bar, next to the dartboard. As long as Hallie could remember, that’s where he’d always sat. In return for taking care of the grounds and surrounding beach, Wes and Maggie paid him not only his fee but in drinks and meals as well, since Simon was a lifelong bachelor. Maggie had told Hallie once, “That poor man has never known the delights of having a woman cook for him—probably not since his mama—and that’s a tragedy.” So Maggie made sure he had a good meal once a day.
“Oh, am I glad to see you two,” Wes said when they got over to him. Hallie pulled out a stool and sat beside Ben. “Guess what I got in the other day.”
“Dare I ask?” Hallie said, already feeling better.
Wes had a big personality. He was always making friends with visitors to Firefly Beach, and he was famous for doing lavish things at the restaurant. No one knew when they were going to happen. He’d been known to set off fireworks, give away surfboards he’d painted himself in a spontaneous restaurant raffle, or even offer everyone free dessert.
“Well, I was going to have the staff dress up one night…” Wes leaned down below the bar and when he came up, Hallie snorted with laughter.
Ben let out a loud “Ha!”
“You didn’t,” Hallie said. “No way.”
“Way.” Wes was wearing an enormous Elvis wig.
“Where did you get that?” Hallie said, her amusement seeping through her words. She cupped her hand over her mouth, remembering the night as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.
Wes had set up an impromptu karaoke stage. Hallie and Ben had had a little too much to drink—just enough to make her uncontrollably giggly. Ben had chosen “Don’t Be Cruel,” and he was belting it out, off key, while pretending to profess his love to Hallie on his knee, his arm stretched out as if he were beckoning her over. The crowd had started to chant for her to go on stage, but she couldn’t stop laughing. Apparently, their performance was such a hit people requested it the whole week after.
“Online!” Wes took off the wig and put it back under the bar. “Ben, you let me know when you’re ready for an encore. All you have to do is say the word.”
Ben chuckled, and Hallie could see the effect of the memory of that night in his eyes.
“Are we feeling rum or wine this evening, Miss Flynn?” Wes asked.
“Rum,” she said, a little life buzzing inside her again.
Wes slid Ben’s favorite local beer across the bar with a grin. “I’ve missed you two!” he said to them, grabbing a shaker and filling it with all Hallie’s favorite ingredients. “It’s been too long. Maggie’s off tonight or she’d have pulled a seat up beside you. She’s dying to pick your brain about what to put in that corner over there. It’s too small for a table, but after we moved things around, we can’t figure out what would go well there.”
Hallie leaned across the bar and grabbed a white paper napkin and a pen. She marked out the two wall lines and studied them. “I’d do something like this.” She sketched a little table with a plant that had some height to it. Then she drew a frame on the wall above it and turned the napkin around for Wes to see.
“I’ll save this for her,” he said, opening the register and placing the napkin under the cash tray. “She’ll love it.”
Hallie had known Wes and Maggie since she was a kid. A lifelong dream, they’d finally opened this place the same year she’d entered high school, and it was the most popular spot at Firefly Beach. Wes didn’t just make drinks; he built creations. An artist in his off time, he was locally famous for putting together just the right concoctions to match each person he met. He’d labeled Hallie as “rum, coconut milk, heavy cream, pineapple juice, and mint” when she turned twenty-one and she’d never deviated. It was divine.
“What brings you into town?” he asked
over the rattle of the ice, as he shook the shaker back and forth.
“Uncle Hank,” Hallie said, not wanting to let on that there was any more than that, but aware that he probably knew better. The truth was, even without Uncle Hank’s issues, she had plenty of reasons of her own to want to escape to the beautiful coast at Firefly Beach. She hadn’t shared the whole of it with anyone, and she definitely wasn’t prepared to divulge anything tonight.
“How’s he holding up?”
“Not too well. I think he needs to get out of the cottage, but his health is failing him.”
His hands stilled. “If there’s anything I can do…”
“Thanks, Wes.”
“Ben, you doing all right?”
Ben held up his drink and nodded. “Doing great, thanks. How’s Maggie’s knee?”
“She can’t play tennis like she wants to, but it’s been fine. The joys of old age… We’ve been getting walks in, though. She likes to stroll through town and have a look around in the shops. There’s a new art gallery that just opened—owned by some famous photographer. I’d never heard of him.” Wes pointed to a frame on the wall leading to the dining area: an incredible shot of the sun coming up on the gulf, with a historical home in front. “I got that at the gallery. He does work for national magazines, apparently.”
Hallie got up to have a closer look. “Wow.” It was exactly the kind of angle she’d have used. She loved to make the corner of an object the center line of the shot—it made the photo take on a linear quality. But this was absolutely incredible. The background was blurred in an unusual way that she’d never seen before, making it resemble watercolor, and she wondered how the photographer had achieved it.
When she walked back over to her bar stool, Ben had perked up, and Hallie knew exactly what he was thinking. How convenient that there was a photographer in town to help her with Aunt Clara’s request… Well, if he worked for national magazines, he was out of her league. Her low-end camera shots would never stand up to that.