Coastal Erosion

by Rachelle Paige

  CHAPTER SIX

  The moment Kim’s heels clicked against the wooden front steps leading to her door, she let out the breath she’d been holding in. Peering down she saw the familiar wear on the painted floorboards of the front porch. She needed to repaint it and probably rip out and replace the worn wood altogether. But the dips and grooves she’d created over time tied her to this place, anchored her to home.

  She could have used an anchor earlier. She hadn’t trusted herself not to launch into Landon’s arms. Keeping distance between them shouldn’t be so hard. She shook her head as she jiggled the key in the old lock and used her shoulder to force the door open. She should get around to replacing the old oak door with something that wouldn’t be so finicky. Most of the year the swollen wood had to be shoved to get the door to budge open.

  She should do a lot of things. Like take a step back from Landon and avoid any physical contact with him. She’d had the crazy urge to topple him to the ground when they’d both grabbed the errant highlighter. Kissing him had never led to any problems being solved. But she did have an itch that only he could, and ever had, scratched.

  Stop. Calm down.

  Letting the door swing shut behind her, she dropped her purse inside the door and slid out of her heels, letting the leather pumps fall haphazardly. She needed a hot tea and a cool shower. And she needed distraction to stay away from make-up and shaving and dressing up. If he wanted to meet as friends, then she’d dress that way, and maybe that would be enough to hold her in check. Her bare feet slid along the well-worn oak flooring, passing through the foyer to the living room. Her toes hit the tiled floor of the kitchen first. She smiled. She always did when she stumbled into her handiwork.

  “It’s a big project.” Her grandmother’s words filtered back to her when she’d first bought the home five years earlier.

  “Yeah, it is. But I think I’m up for the challenge.”

  “Are you sure? You put all your savings into buying this cottage. How are you going to remodel it?”

  “One room at a time. Besides, I’m in no rush. I’ll be here forever.”

  Her grandma had sniggered at that. Gazing about the kitchen now, taking in the painted cabinets with their updated hardware and the mosaic backsplash behind the appliances, she could only see the skeleton of the original space. She’d managed to save enough money to buy one of the old beach cottages in desirable East Beach. Many of the small homes had been demolished and larger, grander several story tall buildings taken their place. Maybe if she had money she would have done that too. But she had a budget and had been lucky to get in the neighborhood at all.

  “I’ll fix this up Grandma. Just watch.”

  “I know you will honey. But you want to buy property? You’ll be tied down now. Are you sure you’re ready for that commitment?”

  She had held her tongue. She’d been ready for even more commitment but that had fallen apart at her feet. Moving to St. Simons had been unintentional. But after living in the south for four years at Vanderbilt, she’d grown to love the hospitality and graciousness of southerners. She loved the Midwest too. But if she had to choose warm weather or snowstorms, she picked the former.

  After a summer of letting herself grieve for all that she’d lost, she managed to land a job with Nathan and Sons and dove into work. As a child, she’d never quite fit in. The other girls either seemed to dress up and play princess or be super sporty. She was neither. Kim had spent hours alone drawing, building cities out of Legos, and assembling puzzles. Her grandma had recognized her potential for engineering and encouraged her to follow her passion. When the scholarships came in, she ended up making the smartest decision even if it challenged her to leave her home state and her comfort zone of small town living. Her first year at school was rough. She had a hard time navigating college life and living in a big city. Eventually, she’d found her rhythm. And then even that had been shaken.

  She shook herself to snap out of her reverie. She filled the kettle with hot water, set it on the stove, and pulled her tea caddy forward. The mosaic backsplash in her kitchen made her smile every day. When she’d been given the keys to the cottage, she’d needed to rehab almost everything, starting with the kitchen. She approached the project the way she did every task—with research and preparation. Hours at the library and online had taught her the basics of tiling. She saved money to hire professionals for the electricity and plumbing, but her first DIY had been the backsplash. She’d gone to the tile store and purchased boxes upon boxes of odds and ends tiles. Back at the house she’d set about arranging the tile into a mosaic pattern. For the kitchen, she’d kept to all white tiles of varying style, texture and size. Just as she had as a kid, she’d worked as if she was assembling a puzzle, only this time without the picture for a guide.

  The teakettle whistled. Pouring the hot water into the mug, she let the tea steep when her phone started to ring off the hook. In two steps, she reached the house phone she insisted on keeping for emergencies.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Kim, it’s Trish, over at the bar.” The singsong voice chirped over the phone making her smile automatically.

  “Oh hi Trish. How are you?”

  “Good, good. I was wondering if you’ve given any more thought to my idea?”

  She had completely forgotten her conversation with Trish nearly a week ago. I think I’ve forgotten everything before Landon. After Grandma Rose and her friends had expressed their admiration of Kim’s tile mosaics, she’d been encouraged to start crafting small bistro tables and chairs, mirror frames, and picture frames covered in mosaic for sale at the craft fair at Postell Park. Trish had seen her work and been interested in hiring her to work on updating the bathrooms at her bar.

  “Oh right. Sorry Trish, I’ve been a little distracted this week.”

  “Everything okay? Is your grandma okay?”

  She smiled at Trish’s comment and concern. The woman was a sweetheart through and through. She’d first met Trish when Trish and Phil bought the house next door, tore it down, and built a stunning Spanish style villa with spectacular views in its place. Kim had prepared herself for uppity, snobby neighbors but been delighted with Phil and Trish. The harried lawyers’ lives had changed a lot in the few years they’d known each other. Trish had ended up needing bed rest through her pregnancy with Charlie, and Kim had been happy to keep her company. She hadn’t had many friends through the years, but Trish was one she’d felt that she’d known forever.

  “Grandma Rose is fine, thanks for asking. She had an emergency yesterday. She hadn’t been able to convince Scooter to go outside at all, but I left work and helped her.”

  “Well if he’s too much for her to handle, please tell her to drop Scooter off with us. I offered to dog sit before they went out of town.”

  “I think Grandma is happy for the company. Scooter is more like a person than a dog. But thank you, I will let her know if she needs help to call.”

  She’d also forgotten that Phil and Scooter’s owner, Grandma Rose’s new next-door neighbor, were old friends. She’d established her own deep roots in the community over the past decade, but sometimes she forgot how connected everyone was to one another. Small world, smaller island.

  “So have you given it any thought?” Trish prodded.

  “I have. I’d love to help you out, but I might be getting roped into a big project at work. Maybe we can look at the calendar and figure out a time to shop for supplies and a couple days you could let me in without any interruptions?”

  “We can do that. Thank you so much. This means a lot to us.”

  She didn’t need the extra assurances. In the few years of friendship with the couple, she’d come to value Phil and Trish’s honesty and sincerity. Helping them out always reaped its own rewards.

  “You should stop by tonight if you get a chance.”

  “I might but I’m meeting with a clien—err friend.”

  “Huh? Who are you meeting with?”

  “It�
��s a little complicated. Let me just say an old friend from college is trying to develop the land off Lawrence Road.” Kim bit her lip to stop herself from further rambling.

  She barely knew how to rationalize Landon’s sudden presence to herself, let alone explain who he was to others. Her voice had sped up until the words had jumbled together. She wanted to get past the awkward introductions of who he was to her. But maybe she never would.

  “You mean the SCL lost? Oh no. That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh yes. I’m in a bit of a tricky spot.”

  “Does this friend know you work for them?”

  “I don’t work for them. Not really.”

  “Seems like it to me. You’re always at meetings for this development and that proposal and then don’t you have society meetings?”

  Kim sighed. Maybe she did work for them. But Landon had assured her he wouldn’t divulge her conflict of interest and that her volunteer work wasn’t a problem. She didn’t want to get kicked off his project. She couldn’t believe after all these years he was only now starting his own business, as she’d suggested. But of course, being Landon, he couldn’t keep it small like her original idea. Nope he had to build the largest tiny house development possible on the site. She still had her hesitation about his plan. She still didn’t agree with it, but she liked the challenge of the parameters he set. And she liked that he valued and respected her opinions enough to listen.

  Even if she hadn’t been listening in return. Staring at his mouth and hands had become her primary distraction until memories started the creep of a blush up her cheeks. She moved on to swirly doodles when she should have been taking notes. Yep. Landon Beau IV had her reverting back to schoolgirl crush days. And now she needed that tea and a shower.

  “I have to go, Trish. We can catch up more later, but I’m supposed to be meeting him in a bit and want to hop in the shower.”

  “By all means. I’ll be home if you do want to stop by tonight.”

  “Sounds good.” She returned the receiver and grabbed her now lukewarm tea, fully steeped and strong. She took a deep drink of the bitter, Earl Grey, savoring the sweet smell and the sharp contrast with the flavor profile. Just like her relationship with Landon had always been, it felt sweet but stung at the same time. She still hadn’t figured out why he was here or what he was doing. But maybe tonight, if she could keep her hands to herself, she could get some answers.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Grabbing the bouquet of roses off the passenger seat, Landon inspected the flowers. They didn’t have apricot, her favorite color, at the island florist. Or at least apricot used to be her favorite. But he hoped the soft pink color worked for a peace offering. The sweet smell filled the car, almost as fragrant as the lavender she wore. He’d said they were just going out as friends, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. His manners again.

  The snug little cottage, covered in shingles, was set back from the road by a cobbled walk. Resting under the towering structures built nearby, he’d have expected to find a cramped home. But if anything, the modest size made gracious use of its lot while the neighbors stretched out to the very limits of their lots. He didn’t see much in the way of a garden but palms and palmettos of varying sizes did add a sense of home. Home. He wouldn’t describe any place he’d lived in such a way.

  He pressed his free hand to rub his chest just above his heart. He’d moved from his parents’ house to college and then on to a rather non-descript, modern condo in a building with a doorman. A few patches of light colored shingles and new front porch spindles indicated the love put into maintaining the home.

  What he didn’t see, he noted too. No evidence of anyone living here beyond her. How odd. He raised his hand to the brass knocker and after three taps, the turquoise door opened.

  “Hi,” he smiled as she peered through a crack in the door.

  She quirked an eyebrow and opened the door fully, leaning in the frame with one foot resting on the other. He took in a deep breath. Dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans, she hadn’t aged since the day he’d carried over the threshold of the run-down house on the outskirts of campus. He’d intended to buy that house, had put in an offer, and wanted to renovate and flip it. His plan had been perfect. She’d be able to find a job after graduation in town. She’d been fielding offers since they got back from Vegas. With only a couple weeks to go until graduation, he’d been desperate to figure out their future…fast. And then she’d told him she was pregnant. He’d dropped to his knee and proposed on the spot.

  That house would have been a home.

  “Flowers?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  He extended the offering to her. She smoothed her hair behind her shoulder and grabbed the bouquet.

  “Okay, come in and let me find some water.”

  He followed her inside. Furnished in a mix of colors and prints and patterns, he should have had a headache scanning everything. But somehow it all worked, like the giant jigsaw puzzle she’d tried to get him to assemble with her over a snowed in weekend. She walked ahead into her kitchen, a serviceable space big enough for a few people to comfortably work next to each other but not large enough for a table or seating. Or a high chair. Wait, no, that wasn’t right. The baby would be ten.

  He held his side. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He’d missed too much, nearly an entire childhood.

  She stood at the sink, filling a mosaic tile vase with water and dropping the roses in the container. Satisfied with her work, she set the flowers off to the side of her sink next to her coffee maker. Turning to smile at him, her eyes clouded with concern. He knew the green would turn to a stormy gray.

  “Do you need some water too?” she asked, eyeing him closely as he approached.

  “No, I’m fine. I’ve been meaning to ask you. Is everything alright with you? You had that family emergency the other day.”

  Her face turned crimson. “Do you promise not to laugh? Or tell anyone at the office?”

  “Of course,” he muttered, intrigued.

  Maybe their daughter had a fashion emergency or their son needed a ride to soccer. He swayed from side to side, his feet longing to tear off up the stairs to meet his child.

  “My grandmother is dog-sitting and she needed help. The dog is more person than pup. And he’s huge some kind of Newfoundland mix.” She waved her hands to dismiss her ramble. “Anyway, he wouldn’t get off the couch all day and she needed help convincing him to go outside to use the facilities.”

  “Oh, that’s it?” The words tumbled out of him like a rapidly descending plane. He slumped forward for a half second before years of training had his back straight again in perfect posture.

  She eyed him curiously.

  “Okay great. Let’s get going. A new pizza place went in down in the Pier Village. They have a great outdoor space. If that’s okay?” she prodded.

  His eyes darted around the room. He needed to stall until he could figure out how to spit out what he needed to say. Why he’d come. Words escaped him. Truth or dare time.

  “Should we say good night?” he asked, clearing his throat and dropping his hands into his pockets.

  She crossed her arms. “Really? Good night? We haven’t even left. I don’t get you, Landon.”

  “What? It’s an honest question,” he protested, fisting his hands against his thighs.

  “You said you wanted to get dinner, as friends. You show up at my door with roses and now you’re done? What’s going on? Why did you come here? Be honest with me.”

  “I came to meet our child.”

  Her face fell. She took two steps backward before turning and fleeing back the way they’d come. He raced after her toward the front door. No. He wanted to meet his child. It was past time. He caught up with her as she pulled the doorknob. He pressed the door shut behind her. Frozen in place, his arm pressed against the door, his chest rising and falling against her back. He could know the truth once and for all. He could use his physical size to overp
ower her. He drew back from her slightly at the mere thought. He’d never laid a hand on anyone in anger or frustration. He wouldn’t start now.

  “Where is our baby, Kim?” he whispered into her ear as he dropped his hand from the door and took a step back.

  She recoiled, turning her head as if he’d slapped her. He watched the tremor shake her entire body, as she covered her face. Gently, he grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her into his arms. She didn’t put up a fight but neither did she lean into him. Holding her was like holding air. Not the way he remembered or the reunion he’d dreamed about.

  “You think I had the baby?” she whispered back, her voice almost frantic. “Was that what this was all about? You just wanted to see?”

  “A man is allowed to know his child, Kim.”

  A sharp laugh unlike anything he’d ever heard ripped through the room. The brittle noise made him cringe and drop his hands. He needed space away from the awful chortle

  “Did you think I’d keep you away if I had had the baby? You thought I ran off with our child?”

  At the aghast expression on her face, he understood he didn’t know what he’d thought anymore. He’d hoped. He’d hoped somewhere he had a family waiting for him to come home. He’d prayed that they’d be reunited. But he didn’t know anything for certain.

  She crossed her arms and shook her hair back off her face. She stared at him dead in the eye.

  “For a minute, I thought you’d come back for me,” she muttered and dropped her eyes from his.

  The loss made him go cold. Ice crept through his body from the top down, as if someone had poured a bucket over his head. What was she saying?

  “So…you didn’t have the baby? You took care of…” He couldn’t continue or say the words aloud.

  He’d planned a safe and secure future for them. Then she’d turned her back and crushed their dreams. She’d killed his plans. Why?