by Jenny Hale
She was just about to turn on the lamp, her fingers trembling over her phone keyboard to text Ben, when he came in, causing her to scream.
Beau, who’d been curled up at the door waiting for Ben, jumped to his feet.
Ben stumbled over Beau and clicked on the kitchen light, momentarily blinding Hallie.
“What’s the matter? Did you have a nightmare?” He squatted down and gently wrestled with Beau for a second.
“No, I was just resting and I saw this.” She held out her camera with a shaky hand. “Did you come in through the beach?”
Ben shook his head, clearly confused by her question. Before she could even explain, she was on the phone with her mother, recounting what she’d seen through the lens. Mama told her she’d call the police right away.
Ben peered out the window, the camera still in his hand, along with a brown bag that he’d come in with. “Could it just be someone taking a walk?”
“On a private beach?” She ran to the door and locked the bolt.
“The little shadow of a person doesn’t seem menacing. If it’s even a person. It could be just a glitch in the photography.” Ben tried to zoom in on the image but it got blurry.
“Uncle Hank lets Gavin, the painter, use the beach. Could it be him?” Hallie prayed it was.
“Maybe.”
“It scared me to death.”
“Well, I’m here now to protect you.” Ben threw himself into an energetic ju-jitsu move, making her laugh despite how scared she was.
“You’re making jokes and this person could be anyone… He could be a killer!”
“A killer who is casually strolling away from the house, nothing is stolen, and he’s now gone. And that’s if it was even a person at all.”
“It was a person! And they shouldn’t be on the property.”
“You said yourself that it might be the painter. And there isn’t anyone there now, that I can see.” He set the camera down and held up the brown bag he had in his other hand. “Let me distract you… Sorry I took so long.” He paused dramatically, shaking the brown bag, getting Beau excited. “I got pie to apologize.”
Hallie perked up. “Is it…?”
“Yes. It is.”
Hallie gasped.
Neither of them had to actually say “Sally Ann’s Bakery” to know that inside the bag was one of Sally Ann’s homemade peach cobblers. The whole town knew about her famous cobbler, and in the summer months they had to be ordered specially, because they sold out faster than she could say “pie.”
“How did you get one?”
“I promised her a pre-release Sylvan Park CD and she got one from the back. She said she saves them for emergencies. I told her that leaving you without a word all day was definitely an emergency.” He set the bag on the table. “It’ll go great with the wine we have.”
“Yes. It will.” Hallie got up and retrieved two plates from the cabinet, while Ben grabbed napkins and the wine glasses.
He filled their glasses and pulled out a kitchen chair for her.
“So what were you doing all day?” she asked, setting the plates down and opening the bag, sinking her hand into it and removing the plastic cobbler box.
“Ashley’s in town.”
“Oh! I’m glad you were able to see her,” Hallie said over her shoulder, as she opened the drawer to get the pie server. She cut them each a slice and placed one on each plate.
“Yeah.” Ben took his plate and sat down across the table.
“Feel free to have her over.”
There was an odd pause. It was so subtle Hallie almost missed it. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to entertain her,” Ben said. “You have enough going on.”
“I love her, though! She and I have so much to talk about. We seem to like all the same things; we can chat for hours.”
He stared at her, his face unreadable. And then he snapped out of whatever thought he had. “I know.” He scraped the point off his slice of cobbler and took a quiet bite, looking tired all of a sudden.
“Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
Their eyes met and he held her gaze, his lips parting just slightly as if he wanted to tell her, but he shook his head. “Nothing new. How’s Uncle Hank?”
“Sad. But he’s going to show me how he makes his sandcastles.”
“Ah, that’s awesome. How did you manage that?”
“We were reminiscing about Aunt Clara and it just seemed like a good time to ask. He looked happy to show me.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. And I want to see that. We should get him to show us tomorrow morning. I have no plans.”
Beau sighed and switched positions loudly under the table.
“I know, boy. You need a walk. Maybe Hallie will go with us after we finish our pie.”
“I’d love to.”
Ben smiled. “I’ll refill our wine before we go. We can take it with us.”
* * *
The police had been out to the house to investigate what Hallie had seen, but they couldn’t find anything amiss. No one else in the area had reported seeing anyone, and their patrols had been relatively quiet, which was typical of Firefly Beach. It was so secluded from the other villages that, unless it was tourist season, people left their doors unlocked because they all knew one another. But even at its busiest, if some stranger were to show up around town, people would talk, and that person wouldn’t be a stranger for long.
Without a solid description, locating the individual once they’d gotten off the property was like finding a needle in a haystack. The police officers filed the report and said they’d send around a couple of guys to monitor the property, and as one of the officer’s fathers was a good friend of Uncle Hank’s, he promised to drive past every day, even when he was off duty. Once they had the all-clear from the officers that the property was free of intruders, Ben and Hallie walked Beau and finished off the wine. Their empty glasses sat beside them on the dock, their sandy bare feet dangling above the moonlit water.
Hallie kept looking down the beach in both directions, but the only thing she saw was sand and surf, the lighthouse towering over them as if it were keeping watch.
“Don’t worry,” Ben told her.
“How can you say that?”
“Because all we have is a grainy photo of something that might or might not be a person. There are pictures of Big Foot that are clearer than that, and we still don’t know if Big Foot exists.” Ben threw a ball into the surf and Beau loped off the dock, diving in to retrieve it. He swam to shore and ran onto the beach, shaking the water from his fur. “And the police didn’t find a thing. So let’s enjoy ourselves.”
“If it was the same person Uncle Hank has seen,” Hallie said, a wave rippling up under her toes, “I’d think if he were trying to steal something of value, he’d drop in when no one was here. But there’s no evidence to suggest that’s happening. In the past, Uncle Hank said he saw him at the window, but, if that was him tonight, he’s staying out on the beach now, further from the house. It doesn’t make any sense. What does he want?”
“The only way we can answer that is by catching him. If he comes around again. Maybe he’s just a curious wanderer.”
“I wish we knew.”
Ben put his arm around Hallie and she let him keep it there. He made her feel safe.
As the night went on, Hallie and Ben talked about all kinds of things. She’d told him about Lewis and Aunt Clara’s letters. He’d shared stories about a few of the singers he’d been working with and one of the songwriters he really liked. It had taken all evening, but she’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask him about those four months…
“Why didn’t you say something to me?”
“I didn’t want to get in the way of your happiness,” he said.
“You think I’d be happy with someone who wouldn’t want me to see you?”
Ben looked thoughtful. He squeezed her tighter and she laid her head on his shoulder. However, she thought about
what Sydney had said and wriggled away from him, grabbing the ball that Beau had set beside them. “Beau!” she called, standing up on the dock and tossing it with a plop into the water. Beau happily followed it in. The briny air rushed over her skin. She took in a deep breath and let it out.
When Hallie turned back, Ben was watching her. Whenever he looked at her, it was as if she could see whole thoughts in his eyes. She could never read those thoughts, but they were ever present in his gaze. He approached everything with such passion; so different from her other friends, different from Jeff—anyone really.
There was no one like him, and she was so glad she was lucky enough to have him in her life. Sydney was right. Hallie didn’t want to ever lose him.
But she needed to be adult about things, despite her grief. She had to find her own strength and try not to rely on Ben so much. She’d make sure she didn’t mess this up.
“I might sleep in the main house tonight,” she offered, despite wanting to continue their evening together. “You know, stay in the empty room next to Uncle Hank.”
Those indistinguishable thoughts behind his eyes seemed to multiply right in front of her. “Why?”
“I really got somewhere with him today. I think I should be close by.”
Ben’s eyebrows rose in contemplation. “I can move us into the main house.”
“I was thinking just me. I wouldn’t want you to feel squeezed in there. The bed’s small and you’d end up on the sofa in the living room. You’ll sleep better in the guesthouse bedroom with Beau, and the quiet will give you an opportunity to work on your music. I’d feel guilty if I didn’t give you time to get it done.”
He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, and she hoped she hadn’t offended him. But then he got up and grabbed their glasses. “I’ll help you get your things into the house.”
“Thank you.”
Ben called for Beau and they started back to the guesthouse.
* * *
The eleven o’clock news had finished, and a barrage of commercials blared on the screen in Hallie’s new bedroom, so she muted the television, preferring silence while still requiring the light from the screen. She didn’t want to be alone in there in the dark. She’d be left with only her other senses and the sounds of the waves outside. The smells all around her, and the feel of the extra soft bedding Aunt Clara used, took her back to her childhood.
The space doubled as a sewing room, so one wall was full of shelving with Aunt Clara’s fabrics and spools of thread. Her lilac scent still lingered everywhere, and her reading glasses sat untouched on the sewing table. Hallie lay on the bed and closed her eyes, wishing for those days when her heart was young and her burdens were light. What happened to them when they got older? Why did the innocence of youth have to fade?
Her phone buzzed with a text: Whatcha doing?
It was Ben.
She rolled over and texted back: Nothing. Just lying here. Everything okay?
Yeah, I only wanted to say hi. I saw the light from your TV through the window so I knew you were up. I’m bored out here by myself. Even Beau left me for the comfort of your bed.
She smiled at her screen as if he could see her now, and typed, Uncle Hank has vanilla ice cream in the freezer… Hallie waited for him to come back, the three little dots pulsating under her text. They disappeared and her phone screen sat empty. Maybe Beau got up… When Ben didn’t answer, she turned over and stared at the ceiling, everything racing back through her mind again.
A quiet knock on the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts.
When she answered it, Ben was standing in the hallway, holding up the bottle of her favorite blackberry wine. He whispered, “I’ve heard this is divine over vanilla ice cream.”
She laughed softly, and his eyes swallowed her, that ever-present fondness that she loved so much showing in them.
“And,” he said, “we really need to get Uncle Hank to move the hide-a-key. Everyone knows the first place to look is under the front mat.” He held it up and put it in his pocket.
Hallie took him by the arm and they walked soundlessly to the kitchen, careful not to put too much weight in each step to creak the floorboards.
“Where does Uncle Hank keep the ice cream scoop?” Ben whispered, as he reached into the cabinet and pulled out two bowls.
Hallie pointed toward the drawer by the sink, and Ben slid it open while she clicked on the small lamp in the corner of the counter so they could see, even if only a bit. He ran his fingers along the contents of the drawer, making them clink softly. Hallie went over to help. She moved in over his hand, feeling for the rounded edge of the scoop until she got it without a sound, and held it out to him.
When he reached out to take it, they fumbled the exchange in the dim light and the scoop fell to the floor with a clang. Hallie threw her hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle.
“Always when you’re trying to be quiet,” he said faintly, bending down to pick it up. He took it to the sink and washed it off. Even the running water sounded loud in the darkness.
“We’re gonna wake the whole house up,” she said with another snicker.
“Nah. We’re fine.” He got out the tub of ice cream and scooped a large helping for both of them. Then, with a hollow pop, he uncorked the bottle and poured the sugary-sweet blackberry wine over the top.
“How much wine did you bring?” she teased him.
“Clearly not enough. This is the last bottle, apart from your mama’s chardonnay. We’re definitely going to need to run in to town tomorrow. Unless you want ice cream with beer on top. Which might not be terrible…”
She laughed, her heart so light at their banter that she wished they could stay in this moment forever.
Ben put his finger to his lips to remind her to keep it down, and placed her bowl on the table. Then he sat across from her, the soft light filtering around them like a warm hug. Ben was the only person she could have wine and ice cream with at midnight and consider it normal behavior.
“Remember that night when we were nine, and we both crawled out of our windows and met each other in your tree house to eat chocolate bars at two in the morning?” She laughed into her fist to suppress the sound.
“Yes. We fell asleep out there and our mothers nearly killed us.”
“Mama called Sheriff Jones! They thought we were missing.”
“We tortured our poor parents over the years.” He scooped up a spoonful of ice cream. “But we never meant to. I just wanted to offer you chocolate because I knew it was your favorite. That’s all it was.”
Hallie couldn’t take her eyes off him, and in that instant, she realized how insignificant her relationship with Jeff had been compared to this. Her conversations with Ben were more intimate than even a kiss. In those moments, he had all of her, everything she could give. It was a feeling she’d never had with anyone else, and defining it was too difficult to get her head around. While Jeff had been romantic at first—and sweet—he didn’t hold a candle to Ben. How had she not seen it? Her years with Ben were worth more than anything else in her world. But what did this realization mean?
They both shared their moment of nostalgia before the harsh kitchen light clicked on above them, making them squint.
“What are y’all doing up?” Mama said, standing in her summer bathrobe, rubbing her eyes.
“Having ice cream,” Ben said, teasing as if it were totally normal to have ice cream at that hour.
“Y’all scared me half to death. You’re lucky I found you earlier and not later. I was coming in to get a frying pan to defend myself. I could’ve clubbed you one.” She went over to the counter and tipped the tub toward her with her finger to peer down into it. “I hope you have enough for me.” Mama turned around and walked over toward them, her nose in the air, following the scent of something. “Is that alcohol I smell?”
“Blackberry wine.” Hallie held up a spoonful.
Mama leaned in and took a bite of it. “Oh my! That’s wonderful.”
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Ben had already gone to the counter and retrieved another bowl, scooping more ice cream and drizzling the wine on top. He handed it to Mama. “I feel like I haven’t seen you,” he said, before pulling out a chair at the table for her beside Hallie.
“I’ve been busy,” she said. “I followed a noise down here, but then hearing your giggling took me back to old times and I just had to be a part of it. I hope it’s okay if I join you two.”
“Of course,” Hallie said, putting her arm around Mama and giving her side a squeeze. “I’ve missed you. I feel like we’ve had so much going on that we haven’t had time to just be, you know?”
“Yes.” Mama shook her head but then smiled as she looked between Hallie and Ben. “It doesn’t feel like it, I’m sure, but I’m so glad you two are here. It makes everything better.” She swirled her spoon around in her ice cream. “I recall when Aunt Clara used to get up in the night and make coffee. I would tell her the caffeine wasn’t good for her at that hour and she’d always say, ‘Well, I’m up anyway, so it can’t hurt.’”
Hallie grinned. “She was so calm and collected, but at the same time, restless.”
“Yes. It was her creative soul. She always wanted to be doing something, filling her minutes to their fullest. You know what she said about sleep? She said, ‘I can sleep when I’m gone from this earth.’” Mama took a bite of ice cream and swallowed, clearly pondering that statement. “She’d be happy to see us all together, up in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll bet she’s here with us. She’s still not sleeping,” Ben ventured.
“You’re probably right.” Mama said.
Hallie let her gaze fall on the empty chair and this time, it didn’t feel as empty as it had the first time she’d seen it. She caught Mama looking at it too, and they both smiled at each other knowingly.
“Uncle Hank is going to show me how to make a sandcastle tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Mama continued swirling her ice cream around in her bowl, the wine coloring it a light shade of lavender. “I was wondering if we should hire someone to stay with him during the day when we aren’t here, to make sure he can get out to the gazebo when he wants to, and to keep an eye out for anyone who comes onto the property.”