Summer at Firefly Beach: The perfect feel-good summer romance

by Jenny Hale

  “I’ll bet he just wants his money,” Uncle Hank said. “He probably heard about his inheritance and he’s come to get it, but he’s too much of a coward to ask me for it.”

  “All right,” Mama said, standing up from the sofa. “I’ve had about enough of this. If you won’t tell me what’s going on, then I’ll have Lewis do it. Bring him in. We’re not pressing charges.”

  They all looked at Mama with wide eyes.

  Uncle Hank didn’t speak, but it looked like his face would burst with anger.

  “How can you drop all charges? What if he was planning to do something awful to us?” Sydney asked.

  “He’s family,” she said. “And Aunt Clara wanted him with us every single holiday. That tells me that he’s good.”

  “I’ll be damned!” Uncle Hank stood with the force of an erupting volcano. He grabbed the arms of the chair to steady himself, his knees barely allowing for the speed at which he rose. “He’s a lying, thieving, awful person!”

  Mama considered Uncle Hank’s words for quite some time. Then, she turned to the officer. “Bring him in.”

  “Okay,” the officer said. “Would you like me to stay?”

  “He’s seventy-eight years old, and he’s family. I think we’ll be just fine.” She walked the officer to the door and Hallie followed.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll stay in the car until you give me the okay that you won’t be harmed.” He opened the door, mosquitoes buzzing around the porch light as he exited the cottage. He walked to the squad car, opened the back door, and permitted Lewis to climb out.

  When Lewis made eye contact, he seemed kind and genuinely mortified by what had transpired. But he had to know that this would happen if he were on the grounds uninvited. He climbed the porch steps with ease, and it was clear that he was younger and in better shape than Uncle Hank, yet he looked so much like him that no one could deny the fact that they were related. He had Uncle Hank’s broad, defined features, the same hooded eyes, and silver hair that was so similar Hallie was nearly sure they’d both had the same color growing up.

  He greeted Mama. “Nice to meet you,” he said, breathless, as she shook his hand. “I’m your uncle,” he said. “Hank’s brother.”

  Uncle Hank had never said he had a brother. And from the look on Mama and Sydney’s faces, they were just as surprised by it as Hallie was. When Hallie looked over at Uncle Hank, he wasn’t in the room anymore, his chair empty.

  “Come in, please,” Mama said, shutting the door and ushering him inside the living room.

  Lewis’s gaze swept lovingly over the furnishings, before a loud bang of a door drew their attention down the hallway.

  “Here,” Uncle Hank barked, marching in and jabbing a check at Lewis. He grabbed Lewis’s hand to shove the payment into his grasp, but Lewis drew back, the green and gray personal check from the Eubanks’ private account fluttering to the floor. It was made out to Lewis in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars. “What else could you possibly want?”

  Lewis didn’t flinch at Uncle Hank’s anger. In fact, he behaved as if Uncle Hank were acting totally normal, which was very odd since Hallie had never seen him behave like this in her entire life. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Lewis said, stepping over the check to have a seat on the sofa. He ran his hand along the cushion.

  “Get up,” Uncle Hank snapped. “You aren’t allowed to enjoy Clara’s furniture.”

  Sydney walked over and put a hand on Uncle Hank’s arm, her concern for his state clear. He wasn’t in great health emotionally already. He didn’t need this level of stress.

  “I’m so sorry to have worried you all,” Lewis said, turning away from Uncle Hank. “When I read that Clara had passed, I had to make sure my brother was okay. I checked on him a lot at first, and I was delighted to see you all come. Once you arrived, I only wanted to make sure someone was here so I’d take my nightly walks onto the property. I live just outside of Firefly Beach, so I’d walk the route to the park in town and cut through the hiking path between the park and the cottage. When you left, I was going to start coming up to see him again.”

  “Isn’t it kind of strange to be peeking into someone’s windows?” Mama said, obviously bothered by Uncle Hank’s response to him.

  “What choice did I have?” Lewis said. “You saw the reception I got when I came in.”

  “As you should,” Uncle Hank said, glaring at him.

  “It was so many years ago, Hank; we were all so young. And I’ve been asking your forgiveness ever since it happened. I had no right to do what I did, but love makes you do crazy things, things you normally wouldn’t.” He took a step closer to his brother. “She picked you, Hank,” he said in almost a whisper. “For fifty years, she picked you, without a waver. I’m nothing but a lonely old man. Forgive me.”

  Uncle Hank turned away from him.

  Lewis addressed Mama. “Thank you for not pressing charges,” he said. “If I’d have known I was frightening people, I would’ve found another way to check on him. I’m so sorry.” He walked over to the door and opened it, a warm gust of summer wind blowing the check across the floor like a miniature tumbleweed. “I won’t stay. Having me here is obviously upsetting. I only wanted to make sure Hank was all right. There’s nothing else I want.”

  “Wait,” Mama said.

  Lewis turned around.

  “It’s late. You live all the way past the park. Why don’t you stay?”

  “I wouldn’t dare intrude,” he said, sending a sad look over to Uncle Hank.

  “You can’t possibly walk home. It’s after ten o’clock.” Mama brushed past Uncle Hank and shut the door. “I insist. Uncle Hank can pout all he wants, but you’re family. Hallie, could you stay in the guesthouse tonight? I’ll put some new sheets on your bed upstairs and we’ll let Lewis stay here.”

  Before Hallie could answer, Uncle Hank cut in. “The police officer is still sitting outside. He can drive him home,” he said, refusing to acknowledge his brother with anything more than a response to Mama.

  “Oh! My goodness,” Mama said, rushing to the door. She gave the police officer a thumbs-up and a wave, and sent him on his way. “I can’t ask the man to give rides—that’s not his job,” she said, coming back inside. “Plus, we have to give Lewis Aunt Clara’s other letter, remember?”

  Uncle Hank was silent, grinding his jaw and remaining defiant. Finally, he said, “Any of you could drive him home, but you won’t, will you? Well, you don’t know what he did, so you’re making a mistake inviting him into Clara’s home. If he stays, I’ll be upstairs, and I won’t come down until he’s gone.” Then he left the room.

  “I’ll drive him home,” Hallie suggested, feeling as if they were all ganging up on Uncle Hank.

  Even if he was wrong, Starlight Cottage was his house and they should be respectful of his wishes. And until she had the entire story, she didn’t like the idea of this man, who was a stranger to them, sleeping at their house. They had a child to consider in all this. Was tonight’s atmosphere what they’d like Robby to wake up to?

  “I’ll just grab my keys,” she said, without allowing anyone to offer further suggestions.

  * * *

  Lewis lived in an unfussy little bungalow just outside of town, only a few minutes’ drive from Starlight Cottage. If it hadn’t started to rain again, he definitely could’ve walked. He was fit for his age. He’d told Hallie on the ride that he spent a lot of time traveling and hiking, and up until a few years ago when his back started giving him problems, he even rock climbed. He was sociable and kindhearted on their drive; nothing like the person Uncle Hank saw when he looked at him. She wanted to know what had happened between the two brothers and Aunt Clara, but she needed to hear it from Uncle Hank first.

  Hallie lay in her bed in the sewing room, holding her phone in the dim glow of lamplight. Even though she didn’t really know where she and Ben stood, she wanted to talk to him to tell him what had happened tonight. He had this way about h
im that could always clear the clutter in her mind and make her feel better about the situation. It was nearly midnight, now that she’d had a long bath and gotten ready for bed. There was a missed call and voicemail from Gavin that she’d check later, but right now, she wanted to hear Ben’s voice. She texted him to see if he was awake.

  He responded right away: Just locking up the studio. I’ll call you in a sec.

  After a few minutes, her phone lit up and she answered it right away.

  “You’re working late,” she said.

  “Yeah. I’m trying to move quickly.”

  She could hear the jingle of his keys as he opened his car door and then the hum when he put her on speakerphone and started the engine.

  “I have so much to tell you,” she blurted, wishing he were there so she could see his understanding eyes as she told him everything. She started in, talking a mile a minute, beginning with Aunt Clara’s letter to Uncle Hank and continuing on with barely a breath until the last moment of her day before she’d climbed into bed and called him.

  “So do you believe what Hank says about him?” he asked, his voice clear. The background was quiet now; she must have talked all the way to his house.

  “I believe that Uncle Hank believes it. But like any story, there are two sides.”

  “Right,” he said. She heard the rush of water at the sink. Then the sound quieted, and his voice was at her ear again. “I’m coming back tomorrow.”

  “That’s really soon,” she said, both thinking he was crazy for making that drive again so quickly, and totally elated at the thought of it.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  Fear swallowed her. What if he wanted to talk about their exchange over the champagne or all those unsaid thoughts that he always had? And if he was ready to discuss those things, what did she think about them? She tried to decipher the flutter in her stomach when she heard his voice tonight. What she didn’t want to admit to herself was that she felt differently about him now. The love she felt was a different kind than the childlike adoration of her youth, and it made her realize that if they did talk about this, she’d have to tell him everything, things she still hadn’t had the courage to disclose to anyone. Was he ready to hear what she had to say?

  NINETEEN

  Hallie headed downstairs for breakfast the next morning with a full day already planned. She was going to spend some time researching editing software.

  Gavin’s message said that he could help her edit her photos for the series, and he’d show her a few of the programs he liked best. When she’d texted him this morning, he’d told her to come over as soon as she got a chance.

  A pensive hush settled over the kitchen as everyone divvied out their breakfast the same way they had all week. Hallie couldn’t help but look at the two empty chairs at the end of the table a little differently now. Aunt Clara’s seat was still pulled out just a bit. She’d had about enough of this.

  They all looked up as Hallie walked in, but something came over her after thinking of Aunt Clara and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t done it sooner. She waved, giving them a lighthearted look, hoping the mood would brighten. Nothing but utter confusion came from Sydney, a slight interest from Mama and Robby, and definite curiosity from Uncle Hank.

  Go time.

  Hallie headed right back out of the room, ignoring Sydney’s whisper, “Where is she going?”

  Swiftly, she entered the living room and sat down at the piano, raising the lid. Then, she played the only song that Uncle Hank had taught her and the only one she knew. She jovially banged out “Happy Birthday” over and over, refusing to stop. When nothing happened, she started playing and singing as joyfully as if it were a party. They all needed to just snap out of it for a minute.

  “Is it somebody’s birthday?” Robby said excitedly from the kitchen.

  “Sing with meeee! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU…” Hallie kept playing loudly. Her fingers moved on the keys, finding the tune as easily as if she were well practiced, and she reminded herself that Aunt Clara was likely there cheering her on just as she promised Uncle Hank she’d be.

  After a few minutes more, Hallie moved her fingers across the keys and started again an octave higher. And then lower.

  Finally, when she’d hit her grand final note, just before beginning again, she noticed Uncle Hank in the doorway with his hands over his ears. “What in God’s name are you doing?” he asked, trying not to laugh.

  “You always played before breakfast. You played every single morning while Aunt Clara made her sausage and egg casseroles or her homemade pancakes,” she said. “And no one has played before breakfast since I got here. So if you aren’t going to do it, then someone else will have to. And this is all I know how to play.”

  He gave her a wary look.

  “You’ve got more work to do here, Uncle Hank,” she whispered. “Aunt Clara said so, and we all know not to mess with Aunt Clara.”

  He smirked a little.

  “Start right here, with your family. Robby doesn’t remember that apple tree song you used to play when we were little. He needs to feel what it’s like here first thing in the morning—all the laughter, the fun we used to have. In our family, he’s the next generation and you are the last of your generation. Teach him what our family is like.”

  When Hank didn’t sit down next to her, she started playing again as the whole family came to see what she was doing.

  “All right, all right,” Uncle Hank said, stilling her hands, the keys groaning in protest. “I’ll play.” Hallie stood up, giving Uncle Hank the width of the entire keyboard. When she did, he patted the bench. “Robby, come sit here.”

  Robby climbed up.

  “Any guess where the middle C is?” Uncle Hank asked.

  Robby shook his head.

  “It’s right here.” Uncle Hank took Robby’s little hand and put his thumb in the same place he’d put Hallie’s when she was that age. As Robby pressed the key, the tink tink tink of it gave Hallie goosebumps. Sydney and Mama were beaming.

  This was what Aunt Clara wanted—Hallie could feel it.

  * * *

  “Can we talk for a minute?” Sydney said, catching Hallie on the stairway as she went up to get her camera before leaving for Gavin’s. Sydney never wanted to “talk” in that sense, so clearly there was something bothering her.

  “Sure.”

  Hallie followed her sister downstairs. They settled into two rocking chairs on the back porch. The sun had already burned through the light mist of early morning and the gulf was shimmering in the sunlight. Aunt Clara had always worn turquoise jewelry, and when Hallie was young she used to think that it was the gulf, captured there in the stones of her rings. The water was that same color today, and the storm had left the beaches combed flat by the night’s high tide.

  Hallie’s gaze was still on the water, the warmth just starting to penetrate her skin, when Sydney came right out with what was bothering her. “Do you and Ben have something going on?”

  “What?” Hallie whipped her head around to her sister. “No.” She couldn’t get any more than that out because the burning in her cheeks had derailed any ability to contest Sydney’s observation of the situation. But the truth was, they didn’t have something going on. They just had the something. It wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I’ve already spoken to Ben about it.”

  “About what?” Mortification was swimming around in Hallie’s eyes, so she looked back out at the water to hide it.

  “You know what I think about all this already, and how I feel about having Ben there for Robby, but this conversation isn’t about me or my child. It’s about you. I see the happiness he gives you when you talk to him, the absolute relief when he texts. Look, it all sounds so perfect right now. He’s your best friend. He’s an amazing guy. But things like this can ruin friendships—I’ve experienced it first hand. I don’t speak to Christian anymore. Not a word. Anything we had before our relationship has evaporated into thin air, and
we’ve been reduced to court appearances and child support. I can’t sit by and watch it happen again.”

  “Ben wouldn’t cheat on me,” she said quietly, realizing that this was the first time she’d admitted out loud that there could be something other than friendship between them. She kept her face toward the water, terrified to look at the pain in her sister’s face for fear it would scare her to death.

  “I know he wouldn’t,” Sydney said more quietly. “But—and this is what I told him too—it would be terrible if the two of you realized that it wasn’t working and you had to pretend because both of you were too kind to admit it to one another. Hold on to this feeling that you have right now and don’t do anything to change that. Don’t ruin it.”

  Hallie sat silently. She was aware of her breathing, long, steady breaths going in and out, the way the counselor had told her in the days after… Any dreams she had of finding that fairy tale life had already washed away. Sydney was right, and Hallie knew it. She’d been so swept up in the rush of her feelings that she hadn’t taken time to think things through. Being at Starlight Cottage had taken her mind off it all for a little while, and made her feel more like the person she was before everything changed. But now, it was time to face reality.

  “You don’t have to worry. Ben is a family guy. He needs a family; he’s going to want lots of kids when he finds that perfect person—and I’m not her,” Hallie said, her words nearly a whisper, tears surfacing the way they always did before she forced the words out. For Jeff. For the counselor. And now for her sister. “Jeff and I found out we were pregnant a few months before the wedding.”