Picking Up the Pieces

by Maryann Jordan

  Mr. Greene, I’m sorry I bothered you yesterday even though I now know the beach is not privately owned by you. Nonetheless, I also know that you use the sea glass to create art and as I have plenty to share with my students, I will gladly return what I gathered yesterday.

  Jade Lyons

  What should have made him happy, simply infuriated him. How dare she patronize him. I sure as hell don’t want her sympathy! Angry, he left the bucket on the steps and stomped to his SUV. Driving away, he tried to focus on the coffee and whatever else he might need. But the green-eyed Jade continued to invade his thoughts.

  Jade pulled into the parking lot at the Baytown Harbor, near where the fishing boats were docked. Discovering the local fishermen who would sell some of their fresh catches to individuals who came before the restaurant trucks was a bonus for living in a little bayside town.

  Waving toward the Carson boat, she stopped just at the edge of the pier where they were moored.

  “Hi!” she called out, seeing both Richard and his son, Rick, unloading crates of fish.

  “Hey, yourself!” Rick shouted. “You in the mood for some striped bass or trout?”

  “Ooh, yeah,” she enthused, her smile aimed at the young fisherman.

  Rick nodded and turned to his father, pulling one of each species of fish out of their tank. Rick walked over the gangway to the pier, moving with her to the table with scales. As he weighed the catch, he asked, “How’s Ricky?”

  Shaking her head, she laughed, “You know your father will have to rename his business to the Carson and Sons and Grandson.”

  Chuckling, Rick nodded. “I reckon my boy’s got fishin’ in his blood.”

  “Well, he’s doing great in my class, so you’ve got no worries there. He’s a smart little boy.”

  Rick’s smile was joined by his father’s as he came down the gangway, grinning toward her.

  “My grandson behaving himself?” Richard asked.

  “I was just telling Rick that Ricky is a smart boy, and I might add, a real pleasure to have in class. And, as you know, he loves talking about going out fishing with you.”

  Paying for her purchases, she waved goodbye, smiling as she passed the Taylors’ crab boat. She loved crab, but never bought it fresh, the idea of boiling them making her feel ill. Continuing on, she walked several piers over to George Caday’s boat. Greeting him, she checked to see what catch he had brought in.

  “Hey, darlin’,” George called out. “I got some flounder today. Not the greatest catch, but it’s good enough to filet.”

  “I’ll take one,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose at the smell. His boat was older than the Carson’s boat and the smell occasionally caused her to take a step back as he weighed her fish. Pulling out his long, sharp filet knife, he deftly slit the fish along the spine, easily separating the flesh from the bone.

  “Ugh,” she murmured, staring as he pulled the head and spine from the body. With a toss, he got rid of the insides, leaving the white flesh perfect for serving.

  He handed her the wrapped, fileted flounder and she smiled her appreciation. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Caday. I’m terrible at getting all the bones out of the fish.”

  “Been doin’ it for so many years, I can filet all kinds of fish with my eyes closed,” he laughed, the lines emanating from his eyes deepening. Pushing his old cap back, he asked, “What’d you get from Richard?”

  “I got a bass and trout from them,” she replied. “With your flounder, I’m set for the week.”

  He placed his hands on his hips and sighed as he looked over at the Carson’s new boat. “Sure is purdy,” he stated. “My old boat needs replacing, but then Richard’s got family to keep his legacy going. ‘Fraid it’s just me.”

  Seeing the sadness cross George’s face, she was uncertain what to say.

  George did not seem to notice her hesitation, as he continued, “My wife passed on about ten years ago. She got cancer and it took her fast, God bless her soul. We only had one son and he ended up all messed up on drugs. He’s been in prison for the past few years and who knows when he might get out.”

  Stunned at the personal information he was sharing, she simply nodded in sympathy.

  “My wife was like you…she’d get up early and come down here when I got in to see what I caught.” Chuckling, he added, “She wouldn’t wait till I got home. She’d go looking for sea glass and then head over here.”

  “Yes, me too,” she enthused. “I love looking for sea glass. I like to go to the beaches south of town. They are empty and I have all the sea glass I can find.”

  Before they could continue their conversation, the harbormaster, Skip Morton walked over, clapping George on the shoulder in greeting.

  “Is George telling you tales of the biggest fish he caught?” Skip asked after turning his bright blue eyes toward Jade.

  George playfully pushed against Skip’s shoulder. Just when it appeared he was going to say more, a truck rumbled up, interrupting them. She turned around and watched as the owner of the Sunset View Restaurant climbed down from his vehicle.

  Thomas Fedor walked over, greeting George and Skip before seeing her holding a few packages of wrapped fish in her hands.

  “You gonna be my competition?” he joked.

  “Hardly,” she grinned. “But I like to meet the boats once a week and see what I can find.”

  Nodding, he replied, “You can’t do any better than fresh fish. I get my local catches from our harbor’s fishermen.”

  Knowing he had business to conduct, she bid them goodbye and headed back to her car. As she drove away, she observed Thomas standing on George’s boat, peering down into his tank of fish as Richard stood watching them from his boat.

  Later in the afternoon, Lance tried to work in his studio, but his eyes continually drifted to the pink bucket taunting him as it sat on the corner of his table. Now, trying to remember why he brought it in, the large green piece inside called to him. He knew it would be perfect for his current creation, but the thought that Ms. Lyons’ pity had left it on his doorstep made him want to refuse the offer.

  A knock on the front door startled him and he tossed his magnifying headgear down as he stalked toward the door. He could not remember the last time someone came to the front door and now, today, he had two visitors so far.

  “What?” he all but shouted, throwing open the door. Seeing Ginny Spencer, Baytown’s only female police officer, standing on his front stoop had him glowering even more. “What? She’s now got you after me? Mitch wasn’t enough? I promise I won’t scare the little bunny anymore,” he grumbled.

  Ginny, her hair neatly pulled back into her regulation bun, slid her sunglasses up to rest on her head as her eyes peered up at him. Placing her hands on her hips, she said, “What the hell are you talking about, Lance? What bunny?”

  Realizing he was making a fool of himself, he clamped his mouth shut, his lips tightly pressed together.

  “You going to ask me in or are we just going to stand here staring at each other, talking about small woodland creatures?” she quipped.

  Dropping his head, he let out a deep sigh. “Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping back to allow her entrance. He led the way to the kitchen where he offered her a bottle of water before making his way to the screened porch.

  Settling into the chairs, he could not help but think of he and Mitch just yesterday occupying the same ones. He glanced to the side at Ginny, one of the few women in Baytown he had taken the opportunity to get to know. Their shared past of being in the Army’s military police gave them a silent camaraderie. Both being members of the American Legion also gave him the chance to observe her. Quiet, introspective, shunned crowds…in many ways, he understood her, probably better than most.

  She had recently gotten together with Brogan MacFarlane, a stoic former Marine, and while he did not spend time thinking of matches, he had to admit the two were made for each other. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, considering she had never visited before.
“So, is this a social call or did you just want some water?”

  She shifted her gaze from the bay to him, her lips twitching at the corners. “You bust Mitch’s balls when he comes to visit?”

  “Humph…sometimes.” Sighing, he shook his head. “Sorry, Ginny. I’m not fit company for man nor beast,” he admitted.

  She nodded and he was glad she did not expect, or probably even want, an explanation.

  “I’ve thought about something for a while now, but wasn’t at liberty to talk about it. I’m still jumping the gun, but now I know it’ll soon be public knowledge, so I wanted to bring it up to you. I kind of figure you might need some time to think about it, in case Mitch talks to you officially.”

  His interest captured, he turned to look at her more directly.

  “The city’s budget has allowed the police department to hire another receptionist dispatcher. You might have seen that Mildred’s sister, Mable, has joined us.”

  Lance grinned, remembering the two older women, so alike in looks, one with grey hair tinged with purple and the other’s tinged with blue. Nodding, he stayed silent, waiting for her to continue.

  “What most people don’t know is that Sam has been talking about retiring soon.”

  Sam Stubbis, the oldest member of the Baytown Police force, had a long, successful career, but lately, health problems had plagued the older man and he had hinted at the last American Legion meeting that his wife wanted him to retire. Looking up sharply at Ginny, he asked, “What’s this got to do with me?”

  Ginny turned her gaze full force toward him and said nothing, but her stare said it all.

  Shaking his head, he responded to her unasked question, “Not interested, Ginny. Mitch has hinted for a year about a job here with the police force…wasn’t interested then and not interested now.”

  She settled back, her eyes now facing the bay again, slowly nodding. After another few minutes, she said, “You got a nice view here. Brogan and I are on the north side of town with a similar view. Sometimes I find myself just looking out for a solid hour, letting the waves wipe away all other thoughts.”

  He nodded silently, agreeing with her assessment of beach living.

  “You know I had no family support when I left the military…haven’t heard from them in a long time. Sometimes, even as much as the town and the good friends I have here have adopted me, I still feel strangely alone at times. Lonely in a crowd…crazy, isn’t it?”

  Once more, completely agreeing with her, he turned his head to the side, staring at her profile.

  “I still have nightmares, occasionally. Hell, so does Brogan. Thankfully, we haven’t had them at the same time,” she said, offering a rueful chuckle. “I got a feeling you have them too.”

  Seeing his pinched lips, she hastened to add, “Not asking you to share, Lance.” She pulled out a card from her pocket, the information from the Eastern Shore Mental Health Group printed clearly on one side. Laying it down on the arm of his chair, she said, “A helluva lot of us in the American Legion have sought their services. It helps…more than you would think.”

  Suddenly, as though she had accomplished all that she had come to do, she stood and walked toward the back door. With her hand raised, flattened on the wood frame, she looked over her shoulder and said, “Respect your desire to be alone. Respect your desire for privacy. Respect the artwork you create. I think it’s good for you…but is it enough? The town could use your investigative skills, Lance. The assistance you offered in the last big case we had was invaluable.” Shrugging slightly, she said, “Think about it. That’s all I ask.”

  With that, she walked out, leaving him still sitting in his chair, the business card on the arm, the damn pink bucket still on his table, and his mind racing instead of calm. Watching the surf roll in and out, he shook his head. So much for a peaceful weekend.

  6

  Fuck it.

  Tired of staring at the large piece of green sea glass that would perfectly finish his work, Lance pulled it out of the pink bucket and walked over to the sink he had installed. Rising it off, his irritation at Jade for finding it, and then giving it to him, abated. He could not keep the smile from his face as he turned the fragment over in his hand, feeling its weight and edges. Perfection. Back at his table, he efficiently completed the mobile.

  Holding the finished project up, he studied it for flaws, but the balance was perfect. The combinations of colors satisfied his discriminating eye. Smiling, he knew it was special and wondered if he should keep it or have Jillian display it in her galleria.

  Walking into his living room, he took down the smaller mobile hanging from a hook in the corner and replaced it with the new one. The large, green glass twinkled at him as the sunlight came through the window. The memory of Jade’s eyes, staring up at him wide with fright as pink stained her cheeks, hit him, but he pushed the thought away once more.

  A flash of color by the side window caught his eye and as he hustled over, he stared toward the dune, watching the woman he had just been thinking about hurrying toward his front door, carrying something in her hand. Irritation returned, this time at his peace being interrupted yet again.

  Grimacing, he stalked to the door and threw it open just as she was bending over to place the bag on his step.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Jade stood quickly, her mouth open, but nothing came out other than a frightened yelp. She had been sure she would be able to sneak in again and leave the sea glass she had found. Blushing as embarrassment flooded her face, she took a step backward.

  “You might not have been trespassing the other day, but you sure as hell are now,” he stated firmly.

  Swallowing deeply, she gathered her courage. “I just wanted to leave you some more glass…I thought you could use it—”

  “I don’t recall asking for anything from you…other than to be left alone.”

  Clamping her lips together, she sucked in a fortifying breath. Standing on the bottom step looking up, he appeared even larger than the other day. Dark hair, messy as though he just ran his hand through it, a day-old scruff on his jaw. His plain, dark grey t-shirt fit tight enough to showcase his muscles. Cargo shorts completed his outfit but, somehow, she doubted he considered his clothes to fall into the category of an outfit. More like whatever he grabbed when getting dressed. His hazel eyes bore into hers and she wished she had thought her plan of attempting to be nice and helping him through a little more.

  Finally, gathering her wits, she rushed, “You can fuss and fume all you want, but the truth of the matter is, I like looking for sea glass, but other than giving some to my students for art projects I don’t need what I find.”

  “Then why take it? What fascination could you possibly have with sea glass?” he bit back.

  Her chest quivering, she stood her ground, staring at the infuriating—and furious—man. Dropping her eyes to the bag of colorful fragments, she wondered how to put into words what was in her heart without him trampling on her feelings. Slowly, she confessed, “Everyone looks at the ocean, but waves come and go. It’s as though nothing changes, if the only thing we do is just stare out at the water. But the beach does change…it’s full of what the ocean decides to leave for us to discover. Like little gifts. Sea glass is…” swallowing, she lifted her gaze back to him, “it’s proof that things can change…for the better. Life can break us into pieces, but we can change, become more beautiful than we were before.”

  Lance sucked in a quick breath through his nose, her words striking a chord deep within. Letting his breath out slowly, he wondered how she managed to so eloquently state exactly what he had always thought…both about the waves and the sea glass.

  Knowing her words sounded ridiculous, Jade shrugged, adding, “I know you make beautiful things with your glass. I’ve seen them at Jillian’s galleria. I’ve admired them for a while but never knew who made them.”

  Feeling foolish in the face of her poetic words about the very thing he
cared about, Lance just nodded. “Yeah…okay…thanks. But…uh…you don’t have to get any more sea glass for me. I’m good. I find what I need.”

  He watched her face fall and hated that it was his fault the shine had left her green eyes. She looked down, the bill of her ball cap now hiding her face. He noticed the long ponytail pulled through the back of the cap, the silky, dark tresses flowing down her back. Her make-up free face gave her an innocent appearance—too innocent for me. Shoving that thought back from wherever the hell it came from, he sucked in another deep, cleansing breath. “Look, I—”

  Her head shot back up, her lips in a tight line. “No, it’s all good. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry, really…I’ll leave you alone now.”

  Before he had a chance to refute what she was saying, she turned and ran back down the drive. Standing in his doorframe, he cursed, “Goddamnit!”

  He watched her run from him, darting near the end of the lane to hustle back over the dune. He knew if he walked through the house, he would be able to see her still running down the beach. Away from him.

  Can I blame her? God, I’m such an asshole.

  For a moment, anger at her intrusion filled him, thinking that if she had not invaded his privacy, he would not have bitten her head off. But he knew that was only an excuse. Somewhere inside of him had been a decent person at one time. He knew when he lost that person…he just had no idea how to find him again.

  Dropping his head, he stared at his shoes…and the bag of sea glass left next to his feet.

  “Ms. Lyons, Ms. Lyons!”

  Jade turned toward the excited voice and watched as the two little girls twirled the globe. “Did you find where the ships were from?”

  “You said one was from Canada and I found it,” one of the girls claimed, her small finger pointing to the correct country on the globe.

  “I found the one from It-ly,” said another child.

  “Italy,” she corrected, with a gentle smile.

  Smiling, she gathered the children around in a semi-circle and together they found the latest countries that she had identified.