She was giving me a hard time about how OCD I was over cleaning, and I caught myself getting defensive. I shook my head. “You’re good at this, aren’t you?”
“At what?”
“Getting under my skin.”
She reached across the table with them and pinched my ring finger. “I’m the best.”
We left my Jeep in the parking lot and started walking. Walked for more than an hour, talking about old times, and about life and death. In the end, as we meet death, is there anything more important than relationships? Loved ones? Family and friends? I didn’t think so, and we agreed on that.
I didn’t know where Anna fit in. Did I love her? You’re damn right. I’d loved her since the first summer I’d spent down in Charleston. Before our first kiss.
What kind of love was it, though? Was is right that we almost married? Had she made a mistake by leaving me? Or had she saved us from a much more painful heartache down the line?
She took my hand and led me up the steps to Waterfront Park. We passed by several children playing in the fountain and took a seat in the grass not to far from the seawall. Waves were splashing up over the railing. A lone cloud pushed its way across the evening sky.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, picking up on the fact that I’d gone silent.
“It’s been a long year, Anna. That’s all.”
She nodded. “For me, too.” A breeze brought a wave of silence between us. We both had things to say but neither one of us wanted to go first. I didn’t know what she was thinking. There she was, one of my best friends on earth and the woman who’d left me a note ending our engagement, now sitting next to me, wanting to pour her heart out. I could feel it, but I didn’t know if I wanted her to.
She was the first one to speak. We faced each other.
“I know you’re wondering why I left. After I heard what happened with Robert that night, I hated myself for abandoning you. But it had been so hard to leave. I knew that even calling you would have broken me. For whatever reason, we weren’t right then. I still had some things I had to work out.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I love you, T.A. Seeing you today made me sure of it. I want us back. I want to marry you. Ask me.” She choked up. “Let me say yes to you again. Let me have the honor.”
Some of you know what it’s like. Those words coming out of a lost lover’s mouth. So many times, people lose someone and hope and pray and beg that they’ll come back. The truth is that they usually don’t. Probably for good reason. So I’d gone on and found a life without her, accepting that it wasn’t meant to be. Now, she was trying to change all that.
I’m reminded of the blessings of unanswered prayers. I wished she had forgotten about me. For the first time in a year, I wished she had gotten married or fallen in love with someone else. But she hadn’t. She’d done what she had to do and was back.
Minutes passed. I ripped some blades of grass out of the dirt and rubbed them in my fingers. Stared out over the water.
“There’s a woman in my life. Her name is Liz.”
“My dad mentioned her. I thought she left you.”
“She did.”
“So…”
“I still love her.”
“I don’t understand. If she left you, why does it matter?”
“I can’t stop loving her just because she doesn’t feel the same. Anna, we have a friendship to repair. That’s where we belong.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “You are important to me, and I want you back in my life, but it has to stop at friends. You know that, too.”
“I don’t know that or agree. I wouldn’t tell you I want to marry you if I thought otherwise.”
“I’m telling you how it has to be. I want you in my life. No. More than that. I need you in my life. But it’s only gonna work one way.”
She took in a deep breath. A pause.
Minutes of nothing but the salt air blowing by.
“Well,” she finally said, “I’ll take you any way I can get you, T.A. You’re right. We do have a friendship to repair.”
“Yes, we do.” I stood and helped her up. “Let’s go check on your dad.”
“All right.”
Before we walked back to reality, we hugged. An embrace I wouldn’t soon forget. Life is too short to hold grudges and unsorted feelings. We’d put it all on the table and knew where each of us stood. I don’t have enough friends in this life, and I wasn’t about to let her go. We both felt good about things as we went back down the steps with our arms around each other.
45
That weekend, I motored the Pretender over to the marina next to Salty Mike’s and walked into town. It couldn’t have felt any better outside. Weather to make San Diego drool. Charleston just blooms in late fall. I perused several galleries near the market and saw some really great stuff. None of it had the impact that Liz’s art did, though. I listened to a sidewalk saxophonist for a while, and after a couple hours, I started back.
I strolled along the uneven sidewalks of King toward the Battery. Reaching Battery Park, I crossed over the soft green grass. The branches of the live oaks surrounding me drooped down to the ground as if they were growing back into the earth, limb by limb. It was from those limbs that they’d hung the pirate, Stede Bonnet, and twenty of his men, back in 1718. As a warning to all the Atlantic pirates, they let the bodies swing from the oaks for four days before they took them down. I could feel their presence.
I stopped near a cannon and gazed out over Fort Sumter. Those walls had stood the test of time, only to be taken down by a sixty-one-foot Viking captained by a woman named Stephanie Lewis. I’ve known many women over the years that are stronger than cannons, women who could break down walls, and she had proven to be one of them. Ain’t no denyin’ that.
Back on the boat, I went down to the galley and took a Kalik beer out of the cooler. I found the shuffle on my iPod, and climbed back to the deck. I sat down in the cockpit, looking out over the ocean. The Thievery Corporation’s remix of “Can I Get a Witness?” came on, and their signature beat, the one my own life beats to, led me to a wonderful place. I’d finally gotten used to being alone, and life was grand.
A dragonfly landed on the wheel in front of me, like the dream I kept having. It couldn’t be...
I watched it flutter in place for a moment, its purple wings flapping in rhythm, shimmering in the sunlight. It took flight again and flew out over the water with grace. I looked down at the blue and white label wrapped around the beer in my hand, and a warmth came over me, like I’d come in from the cold.
I knew she’d be there. I looked to my left.
Liz wasn’t there. Of course. How stupid could I be, to think she would be walking down the dock, coming back to me, manifesting the dream I kept having? That idea suddenly seemed so absurd. Who am I to live such a poetic existence? It was okay, though. I’d made peace with being single. It’s a fine thing to love a woman, even if she doesn’t love you. Lord Tennyson isn’t such an asshole after all. It is better to have loved. There was someone out there waiting for me. I just knew it.
I removed the sail covers and tossed them down the hatch.
Then I heard her voice. “You got room for one more?”
I didn’t look up. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I let the feeling run all over me. I lifted my head and looked at Liz. She stood right in front of me on the dock, utterly angelic. She wore a light green top and a white skirt with turquoise flowers along the bottom. Her brown hair was pulled back, and her eyes said so much.
I looked to my right and left. “We can squeeze one more on, but I don’t know that I can assure your safety.”
“I’ll take a chance.”
I smiled, and I mean a real smile, from deep, deep down.
“So I heard you’ve been going back to the Children’s Hospital.”
I nodded. “I told them not to tell you.”
“Well, they did.”
As I started the motor, s
he pulled the lines and tossed them onto the deck. I reached out my hand and helped her aboard. Her touch made me feel whole.
I put my arms around her and we kissed in a way that made us forget about the past, like we’d just met. Then we squeezed each other tight. There was a faint scent of orchids in her hair.
“You knew I’d come for you, didn’t you?”
“I could have guessed the day.” There I was lying again. Last one, I promise.
I got behind the wheel and began to work my way out of the marina. “What changed your mind?”
“I spoke to a friend of yours the other day. She said you were still thinking about me.”
“What friend?”
“Anna called me.”
“Anna? How’d she get your number?”
“You’re not the only one who’s Googled me over the years.”
“So you just changed your mind all of a sudden?”
“I never stopped thinking about you, T.A. It just took some time.”
When we reached the channel in the middle of the harbor, Liz took the helm. I raised the jib and main, and the wind began to push us. She shut the engine, and we took on a fantastic tilt starboard, gliding across the water, the settling of the boat the only sound.
Fort Sumter came about and Liz read my mind. “I can’t believe they haven’t fixed the wall yet.”
“Walls take longer to build than tear down.”
“Thank you, Socrates. Do you have any other little tidbits for me?” She buried a smile.
“I’d almost forgotten why I love you.”
“I almost forgot that I did.”
Stingy…and I liked it.
The open ocean welcomed us, and the Holy City began to fade away in the distance. The bow performed with finesse through the waves, and the seabirds circled above. Standing next to Liz at the helm, I closed my eyes and let the breeze roll across my face. Sometimes you can taste how good you feel. Like the salt in the air. I had no idea what would become of us, but I was optimistic.
And that’s all you can be. Optimistic.
With a woman like Liz in my life, that was not too hard to do. I put my hand on the wheel to join hers, and the Pretender sailed across the Atlantic like so many ships had done before her.
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I could not have written this book without the help of some amazing family and friends. Lowcountry Punch was my first book, and as your first book should, it took many years and many drafts to write. I originally wrote it in first person, then rewrote it in third person and included several other points of view, then went back to first person, eliminating all but one character’s point of view again. For the first four or five drafts, the second part of the novel took place in Bolivia! Those pages are long gone. In the first few years of learning how to write, I did my best to mangle the English language, and I am so grateful to those brave souls who dared put their time and energy into reading the early drafts and leading me in the right direction.
Charlie, Drew, Steven, and Scott—my band mates and brothers—thank you for showing me how to tap into the creative conscious. I miss our days together; it was a good ride.
Shayna and Travis Howell, among the many hours you put into helping me with my book, my most vivid memory is the day we read dialogue out loud at my place in James Island and ate Andolini’s Pizza (still my favorite in Charleston). Not many people on this planet are that selfless and encouraging. You two were there from the beginning, and probably the only ones who remember the Bolivia parts. Thank you.
My mother, Jo Walker, passed down her love of books to me, something even the required reading in school couldn’t break. Mom, your contributions to this book were countless and crucial, and I will be forever thankful.
Aunt Linda, thank you so much for all you have done. You are a great English teacher and even better person.
Mikella Walker, my words will always be for you. I am one lucky son of a gun!
Thanks to all of you who were there from early on. It warms my heart thinking about all the good souls in my life.
Also by Benjamin Blackmore
Once a Soldier
Off You Go
Writing as Boo Walker:
Red Mountain
Red Mountain Rising
A Marriage Well Done
About the Author
Benjamin Blackmore is a pen name for best-selling author Boo Walker. After picking the five-string banjo in Charleston and Nashville and then a few years toying with Wall Street, Boo chased a wine dream across the country to Red Mountain in eastern Washington State with his dog, Tully Mars. They landed in a double-wide trailer on five acres of vines, where Boo grew out a handlebar mustache, bought a horse, and took a job working for the Hedges family, who taught him the art of farming and the old world philosophies of wine.
Recently leaving their gentleman’s farm on Red Mountain, Boo and his family are back on the east coast in St. Pete, Florida. He has his eyes and ears open, building his next cast of characters. No doubt the Sunshine City will play host to a coming novel to two. Boo’s page-turners are instilled with the culture of the places he’s lived, the characters he’s encountered, and a passion for unexpected adventure.
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