by Gayle Roper
“You’d better not. That’s all I can say.” The older boy turned back to the water.
Jordan sighed deeply, for all the world like a mother who doesn’t know how to handle a recalcitrant child. “You’ll be sorry, Walker,” he muttered, dropping to his knees, his back to the water. If he didn’t witness the disobedience, he could make believe it wasn’t happening. He began to mound handfuls of sand.
“Don’t you go in any farther than your ankles,” Abby said. Once a mother, always a mother, even with someone else’s child. “It’s too dangerous.” And this child was too independent.
Walker nodded absently. He bent over to study a shell rolling back and forth in the waves.
“I mean it, Walker. It’s too dangerous.” Abby’s tone, the same she used to quiet little people at StoryTime, brooked no nonsense. Walker recognized her authority; with an unhappy face he backed out of the water.
“Thank you.” Abby smiled to show there were no hard feelings. Walker sank down beside Jordan and began digging. He wouldn’t look at her.
I do have a way with men, don’t I? With a wave to Jordan she began walking south. She took a deep, invigorating breath. The dependability of the sea and the ordinariness of two little boys had made the world steady on its axis once again.
Lord, these tilts. Why? Why, if You’re mightier than the sea, since You’re mightier than the sea, do You let the world go crazy? That little girl—why?
Seven
ABBY WALKED ALONG the beach until her hip complained too much for her to ignore. Looking back she estimated she’d walked four blocks. Not bad for a gimpy lady. She moved to the edge of the dry sand and sat. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the breakers, and picked up a handful of sand, letting it slide through her fingers. Endless waves, countless grains of sand. She looked up at the sky, limitless and beyond comprehension.
God was so obvious, yet all the questions she tried to contain, the uncertainties and doubts about His care, about life, about pain, about Maddie and Sam, washed over her once again. They threatened to sweep her into what she called the Sea of Heresy, a place where good little Christians who dared to doubt were swamped and drowned.
I’d never have survived these past three years without You. I know that. I also know You love me. The Bible says so. But I don’t understand why You let such unloving and hurtful things happen. I believe in You, Lord. I do. But please, Father, help my unbelief. Don’t let me drown.
She stared at the horizon, her eyes unfocused, her mind in free fall as questions tumbled. How far away was the horizon? Was it always the same distance when you looked out to sea, or did the distance vary from vantage point to vantage point? What about the waves? She watched them foam and froth. Why did they advance and then recede? Why didn’t the ocean keep coming and inundate the land? She knew there were answers in the pull of the moon and the rotation of the earth, but why did the earth rotate and the moon pull at the sea to begin with? Why was the sand here on the Jersey shore so soft? How did the Gulf Stream that warmed these waters come to be?
Lord, while I wonder about the unanswerable questions of life on one hand, I see Your might on the other. So with all that power, why?
She was not surprised when she heard no answer.
She pulled herself to her feet and started the trek back. A strident noise heralded the arrival of a pair of seagulls who landed on the sand mere feet from her. One held food in its beak; the second lunged for it. Soon they were tugging on the same scrap, half in each beak. With a sudden movement one tore it out of the other’s mouth and launched himself into the sky. The second gull gave chase, screaming in raucous fury.
Limping slightly, Abby shook her head at the disappearing birds. They reminded her of too many boys and girls who came to the library, fighting for their own way, their own choice of books, the best seat at StoryTime.
They also reminded her of herself and her demands that God explain Himself. Sighing at her audacity, she drew even with the man holding the metal detector, the one who had so fascinated the boys. He was digging a hole in the sand with a little red beach spade. He reached in the hole and withdrew something.
Abby couldn’t resist. “What did you find?”
The man turned to her. She saw his shabby sweater and faded, stained jeans, his gray ponytail and shabby Phillies cap, and she wondered about him. Then she noticed the huge sparkling chip in his left ear and the slim gold watch showing through the unraveling cuff of his left sleeve. A diamond stud? A Rolex? Now she really wondered.
“I’m Abby.”
He bobbed his head in greeting. “Clooney.”
“As in Rosemary?”
He looked pained. “As in George.”
“Ah. Of course. Forgive me.”
He grinned, holding out his hand. In the palm sat a gold link bracelet with sand clinging to it.
“How lovely,” Abby said as she inspected the design of the links. “I’ve never seen one quite like it before. I wonder who lost it?”
Clooney shrugged. “She’d never have found it if she’d looked all day,” he said. “Besides, it’s been here for a long time. Look at the way the sand has attached itself to the links. I’d say it’s been here since last summer.”
“And it’s still shiny?”
“Real gold doesn’t tarnish.”
“How sad for someone to lose such a beautiful piece.”
Clooney held it out to her. “Why don’t you take it? Let it be worn by a pretty lady again.”
Surprised and a little uncomfortable at the offer, Abby put her hands behind her back. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Sure you can. It’s mine now, and I can do with it whatever I want. If I want to give it to you—” He shrugged. “Well, why not?”
Why not indeed. She leaned closer and studied it. The craftsmanship was excellent, the links designed like little shells that fit into each other. She reached out a finger and traced the lines of one shell. “Very seashoreish.” Very tempting.
Clooney grabbed her hand, making her jump. He set the bracelet in her palm. Then he closed her fingers over it. Without a word he picked up his spade and detector and walked off, swinging the machine back and forth, back and forth over the sand.
Abby stood there a moment, staring after him. Then she looked at the bracelet. With her forefinger she reached out, carefully brushing grains of sand away. What should she do? Run after the man and insist he take the bracelet back?
Yes, she should.
She turned to follow him, but he was gone. She blinked. She knew he’d just walked off the beach. She also knew that she could never move fast enough to catch him, especially with the broad expanse of soft sand to be crossed. Sighing, she slipped the bracelet into her jacket pocket. Maybe she’d see him another day.
As she approached what she’d already come to think of as her beach, she saw Jordan standing at the water’s edge, staring out to the horizon. He was a cute little guy with his cowlick à la Alfalfa from Our Gang. She wondered what he’d think of her talking to Clooney, a stranger. “Hi, Jordan.”
The boy didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear her. He was like a setter on point. She followed his line of sight and went cold. Walker was bobbing up and down with the waves.
If he were mine, I’d tan his hide! Going in the water alone!
She laid a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Has he been in there long?”
Jordan turned a worried face to her. “I don’t want to be a tattletale.” His voice quivered.
“Don’t worry.” Abby smiled. “You don’t have to tell. I’ve seen.” She raised her voice. “Walker! Come out of the water this instant!”
Walker didn’t turn. He just kept bobbing on the gentle waves.
Whatever had possessed their mother to let them come down here without checking on them? They were just too small to trust. “Walker! Come out of the water this very minute! It’s not safe to swim alone.”
Still Walker didn’t turn, and a terrible realization prickled it
s way along Abby’s synapses. Walker wasn’t touching the bottom.
She toed off her shoes and pulled off her jacket. She moved into the water as quickly as she could. Its chill struck to the marrow as she waded ever deeper. “Hold on, Walker! I’m coming.”
A wave broke against her stomach and threw her off balance. She staggered back, almost going under. She flailed about until she regained her balance, then pressed on. The water was chest high by the time she reached the boy. She grabbed his hand and pulled him to her. His lips were blue. When he wrapped himself around her like a little monkey, she felt his shivers.
She began the long walk back to shore.
“Are you all right?” She held him close with one arm about his waist while she used the other to keep her balance. A wave surged forward, lifting them and moving them toward shore.
“I knew somebody’d come,” Walker said. His teeth chattered like castanets, but his voice was steady. “I asked God.”
Abby blinked. She was the answer to his prayers? “I’m glad I was here when you needed me.”
“Me too.” He smiled, his white teeth a sharp contrast to his blue lips.
She put him down as soon as they reached shallower water. He splashed to shore beside her. Jordan stood at the water’s edge, jumping up and down and cheering. Behind him Abby saw Marsh running across the sand with Fargo, ears flying, loping behind him.
“Never again by yourself,” Abby said as she took Walker by the shoulders. She knew she was ruining his vision of her as his rescuer by becoming a lecturing adult, but there was no choice.
The boy studied his blue toes and didn’t respond. He shivered convulsively under her fingers, and she knew hypothermia was a real concern.
“Walker, look at me.”
“What do you think you’re doing, woman?” Marsh yelled as he drew near. Jordan stopped jumping around to stare openmouthed at the red-faced man who jerked to a stop beside him.
Abby ignored Marsh. “Walker.”
The boy’s lips drew together in a tight line. As if she needed more proof that he was an independent kid who didn’t like being told what he could or couldn’t do. Finally he looked at her.
“Never again alone,” she said. “I want your word.”
“You could have drowned out there,” Marsh yelled.
“Calm down,” Abby said. “As you can see, he’s fine.”
“Not him! You!”
She frowned. “I was fine. I’m a very strong swimmer. Now be quiet a minute. I’m talking to Walker.” Her command lost some of its force when she shuddered with cold.
Marsh glared at Walker. He opened his mouth to lambaste the boy, but Abby spoke first. “Do I have your word, Walker?”
When he still didn’t respond, Marsh roared, “If she hadn’t come along, you’d still be floating off to Europe, boy!”
Abby flashed Marsh a look. His kid skills were pathetic. She turned back to Walker.
For the first time Walker looked scared. He moved away from Marsh and closer to Abby. “Don’t tell my mom,” he whispered.
Abby raised an eyebrow. She knew a bargaining tool when she heard one. “Then give me your word.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what? Say it.”
“I won’t go in the water alone.”
“Ever again.” Marsh coached none too gently.
“I won’t go in the water alone ever again,” the boy repeated to his feet.
“Me neither,” said Jordan, his little face serious. “It’s too cold.”
Abby smiled and ruffled the little boy’s hair. She turned to Walker. “You two go home. It’s dinnertime. And Walker, take a hot shower as soon as you get there. We don’t want you getting sick.”
The last she yelled at the running boys as they streaked across the broad beach to their house. She grinned after them as a great shiver took her.
When she turned to look for her shoes and cane, she found Marsh glaring at her.
“Are you crazy?” he yelled.
She blinked at him. “What’s your problem? Everyone’s fine.”
“I heard you screaming. I looked up and saw you plunging into the sea. I saw you lose your balance and almost go under. I know the temperature of that water. No one in her right mind goes in when it’s that cold.”
“Just little boys who are too independent for their own good.”
“Yeah, well, it took me a minute to spot him.”
Abby sat and shoved her wet feet into her sneakers. “What did you think? I was suicidal?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he became very busy retrieving her cane from where she had dropped it earlier.
Abby stared up at him openmouthed. Even when she’d been her most depressed, no one had thought her a danger to herself. “Why you—”
“Yeah.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I am. Whatever it is you’re thinking. But you scared me to death.” He gave her a sickly grin. “I mean, where else would I find a renter for the whole summer?”
“Very funny.” But she couldn’t help smiling back. Much as she hated to admit it, from his point of view things must have looked very strange, especially if Walker’s little head wasn’t easily seen. Okay, so he had run to her rescue. She had to give him full marks for that. But he was still grumpy.
When he held out a hand to help her rise, she took it. Squirming around like a beached fish as she tried to stand was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him. Once on her feet she grabbed her cane from him and turned toward the house. She shivered hard enough to make her teeth chatter as water dripped from her clothes.
“Where’s your jacket?” he barked.
“What?”
“Your jacket. When you left, you had a jacket.”
So she did. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms as she looked vaguely around. “There.” She pointed to the water’s edge where it bobbed in the incoming tide.
He grabbed it and wrung it out. “Here.”
She took it, holding it away from her. It drip-drip-dripped, making little indentations in the sand. She started in surprise when Marsh pulled his own sweatshirt off and dropped it over her head.
“Arms,” he ordered. She obediently pushed first one arm, then the other through the sleeves, trading her wet jacket from hand to hand.
“Thanks,” she muttered as she pulled the sweatshirt close. It felt warm and wonderful.
“Um.”
They reached the powdery sand, and Abby began her slow traverse. Her hip hurt like fury where Walker had kicked her when he wrapped his skinny legs about her, and the chill licking at her had tightened the muscles further. She hadn’t limped this much in months.
As she took a step, a shaft of pain slashed through her hip, across her lower back. She grimaced, pausing to let the agony recede. In spite of her best efforts a slight groan escaped.
Marsh heard and stopped too. Instead of the “poor baby” treatment she was used to, he sighed. “This is ridiculous. You’ll be in a wheelchair and have pneumonia before you get home.”
He turned to her, lowered one shoulder, and hit her in the stomach like a tackler would the quarterback, though probably not as hard. He wrapped an arm around her legs and straightened. Next thing she knew, she was hanging over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, her head bumping his back with every step.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she yelled as soon as she recovered from the shock of his move.
“Saving you from yourself.”
She braced her hands on his waist and pushed herself away from his body, holding on to his T-shirt. She found herself nose to nose with a confused Fargo. “Nice dog.” She gave him what she hoped was a conciliatory smile.
Fargo sneered.
Abby sneered back. “I’m not hurting him, you idiot animal. He’s hurting me.”
“Like I care.”
For a blink of a second Abby thought Fargo had spoken. Then the rumble of Marsh’s back under her hands registered. “Put me down!”
&nbs
p; “Yeah, yeah. In a minute.”
“I hate to hang upside down. It gives me a headache.”
He didn’t bother to answer, just tramped over the sand and onto the paved area beside the house.
“I’m getting you all wet.” She almost felt guilty.
“I’ll dry.” He began climbing the stairs to her apartment. Her cane, dangling from her hand, bumped against each riser. She was struck by an overwhelming urge to use it in a sharp swat across his bottom. It would be nothing less than he deserved for manhandling her like this.
Fortunately for both of them they reached the landing at the top of the stairs before she had time to act. He bent and dumped her off as unceremoniously as he had picked her up. When she rocked on her feet, he steadied her with a grip on an elbow.
He glared at her. “You take that shower you told Walker about.”
Shivering uncontrollably, she glared back and nodded.
He turned to leave.
“Thanks.” She was pleased at how ungrateful she sounded.
“Um,” he replied. He really was a great conversationalist.
“When I’m warm and dry, I want to go get my car.” Now where had that come from? It was like some little demon in her wanted to make his life as difficult as she could.
He stopped. “Tonight?” His disbelief and reluctance were obvious.
Perversity ruled. She looked at him as haughtily as she could. “Tonight.”
He grunted. “Eight-thirty.”
Fargo, watching with a frown from the bottom of the stairs, woofed agreement.
Abby waved a weary hand and went inside. Puppy raised her sleepy head from the sofa where she was snoozing, her eyelids at half-mast. She yawned, showing Abby her tonsils.
“I saved a kid’s life just now.” With a burst of pleasure, Abby realized that was absolutely true. She was a real-life heroine, sort of like the Old Testament queen Esther. Granted Esther saved the lives of many and Abby only saved one, but she knew she, too, had been born “for such a time as this.”
Puppy, uncaring and unimpressed, yawned and was back asleep before her chin hit her paws.
“Thanks for the affirmation,” Abby muttered. “You sure know how to make a woman feel good.”