Coastal Erosion

by Rachelle Paige

  “Grandma,” she groaned. “You know how I feel about dogs.”

  Shaggy mutts did not fit the puzzle she’d created for her life. They were the opposite of control, order, and efficiency. She’d never seen the point. Why take on a messy roommate she had to feed, clean, and care for?

  “Honey, I do,” Grandma Rose protested. “But Scooter is a doll and you won’t know he’s there. He’s lonely and despondent. I know you don’t want to hear this, but he perked up that day you came over to help. I think with you being home it might do you both some good. And I’m so busy. I’m never here. And he hates daytime TV.”

  Despite everything weighing heavily on her mind, she started giggling. Of course, Grandma would treat him like a person. And she had to admit maybe having company would do her some good. She didn’t mind living alone, but she also wasn’t home that often. She’d grown bored being at home in less than two hours.

  “Okay fine. Bring him over and a pizza and a movie.”

  “Great. I’ll see you at five. I love you, honey. You’ll get through this. Who knows? Maybe this will be the best thing that could have happened.”

  “Bye Grandma.”

  She hung up the phone. Grandma Rose had a fervent belief in fate and destiny. And she searched for the positives in any situation. But Kim couldn’t see anything good. She’d like to be proven wrong.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A warm breeze tickled his ears as his convertible rolled through the narrow streets of East Beach. The deserted neighborhood reflected the emptiness inside him. He couldn’t process what she had told him. Traffic picked up as he neared the library. In five minutes, he could be back at his grandmother’s working. He had plenty to do, and with Kim officially off the project, he had no more reason to lurk around the office. No. He couldn’t go back yet. He couldn’t stumble into his grandmother again. He needed space. And maybe a drink.

  She lost the baby.

  The idea had never occurred to him. He’d found it so easy to think her capable of running away with their child, giving him or her up for adoption, or killing the baby. But he’d never once suspected that she’d lost their child.

  A quick glance at the clock told him it was still morning, not quite eleven yet. But he pulled to a stop in front of the little bar on the corner in the Pier Village. Nestled between restaurants and shops, the location couldn’t be beat. He’d often noted that, even though he’d never ventured inside himself. Getting out of the car, Landon scanned his surroundings. A semi-truck took up most of the parking further up the block, no doubt making deliveries for the restaurants. But this early on a weekday, he had the Pier Village to himself.

  The palm trees in the median and the live oaks on the fringes of the businesses nearby shaded him from the hot sun. Heat he could handle. Ice, no way. Landon shuddered remembering his first winter up north in Nashville, Tennessee. His blood still hadn’t thickened by the time he met Kim. She’d laughed at him wearing a heavy down coat when she’d declared Tennessee balmy and tropical. He wondered if she hadn’t weakened now, living so much of her life in the South.

  In a few steps, Landon crossed the sidewalk to the front door of the bar. From the street, the interior seemed dark but he hoped to find some sign of life if he got close enough. He pressed his face against the glass, cupping his eyes to be able to see inside and not just stare at his reflection in the glare from the sun.

  “We’re not open,” a man’s voice startled him.

  Landon turned to his right and took stock of the man, maybe a few years older than he was, pushing a dolly loaded with cartons of beer.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know. I’m not really a drinker. You need friends for that, right?” Landon apologized and then promptly wanted to run down the street to jump into the ocean.

  “Not necessarily.” The man stood the dolly straight and leaned a foot against one of its wheels. “I see plenty of loners.”

  “Yeah, that’s not my style,” Landon replied.

  Drinking alone had never been particularly inspiring. He had visions of rambling drunks either getting into fights or crying themselves to sleep. He had plenty of demons but staring them down at the bottom of a bottle hadn’t ever appealed to him. He’d rather see them in the light of day with a clear head. Even if he still said the wrong words and blew a situation out of control.

  “I guess I won’t be seeing you around here when we open then,” the man interrupted his thoughts.

  “No. I’m not a teetotaler by any means. I drink the odd scotch at an event or gala, but that’s almost more about keeping up appearances than anything.”

  “Hmm, society? I wouldn’t have pegged you for it.”

  Landon didn’t need to walk past a mirror to know he looked disheveled. If his face wasn’t haggard and gaunt, then it should have been. He felt terrible.

  “Yeah, I’m kind of part of it as an extension of my parents. But to be honest, it’s never been my scene.”

  “You don’t have any guys you hang out with at work?”

  Landon shrugged his shoulders. “I’m the boss or at least I have his name.”

  Until he’d said the words, he hadn’t before realized how lonely his life had become. In college, he had run with a large group of friends. Back home in Savannah he received enough invitations to keep his calendar full every day of the week. But he’d never been close with anyone. Besides his grandmother, Kim had been it for him. Calling her his best friend sounded so ridiculous to his ears. She’d been so much more. After she’d left, he hadn’t met anyone who even came close to being worthy of his time or his confidences. He’d shared every thought, worry, and fear with her. And it had all felt so natural. Until he’d told her it’s not like we wanted this baby. He’d blocked those words from his memory. He wished she had too.

  “Have you ever said anything you regret?” Landon blurted out.

  The man’s eyebrows raised. “Was this to a woman?”

  Landon nodded.

  “Sounds like maybe you do need a drink. Or just to talk. As a bartender, I’m pretty much an unlicensed therapist. Come on in and let’s figure it out. Maybe I’ll let you in while I check the stock.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m Phil by the way,” he extended his hand.

  “Landon, nice to meet you,” he replied, shaking the hand firmly before quickly dropping the connection to drag a hand through his hair.

  Opening up to anyone was foreign. Rambling to a stranger completely incomprehensible. And yet he somehow felt lighter, easier. He’d still made a huge mess with Kim that he didn’t have the first clue how to fix. But talking to another guy had given him hope. Maybe he could fix things. Maybe he’d ignore what she said and listen to his gut. Maybe he’d stay and show her that she’d been wrong the whole time. He wasn’t desperate to have a family. He’d been desperate to have a family with her. If she couldn’t have kids, then he couldn’t have kids. They were one and the same as far as he was concerned.

  “Do you need help? Is there more to load or unload or whatever you’re doing?”

  “Actually, yeah, that would be great. I’m down a guy and running on fumes from working around the clock.”

  Phil slanted the dolly and pushed it forward, stopping to fish keys out of his pocket and open the door. Landon snuck past him to hold the door open. Sunlight glinted off a polished wooden bar running practically the length of the room on an adjoining wall and on the taps behind him. Despite being a bar, the large room smelled fresh like wood soap, maybe used on the hardwood floors under his feet.

  After Phil pushed the dolly into the room, Landon closed the door and followed him down the bar and around to the opening. Landon moved to help unload but Phil waved him off. Settling in on a stool on the opposite side, he leaned forward, his chin resting in one hand.

  “I have to admit I say the wrong thing to my wife all the time,” Phil offered, glancing up in between his labors.

  “How do you get past it?”

  “To be honest,
I don’t know. I think she’s stopped listening to half of what I say. And that’s probably for the best.”

  Landon chuckled. He liked Phil. The self-deprecation and hard work were qualities he didn’t encounter much. Landon seemed to find people with an abundance of one or the other. Of course, Kim had been perfectly hard working and selfless. She’d never understood his lifestyle back home. She’d questioned him constantly about attending one event or another, trying to understand the purpose. And besides the charity events his mother ran, he’d have to agree he didn’t see much of a point either.

  For his father and his family business, hobnobbing with the best of the best was what kept the engines running. He hadn’t expected his life to be quite so involved with a social calendar anymore. He’d planned on steering clear of that entire side of his life. The best laid plans…

  “Do you want to tell me what you said and I can rate it on a scale of one to ten for you? I promise it’s the barman’s oath to be impartial.” Phil interjected. He bent down and when he stood back up, presented them each with an ice water.

  Landon took a sip of the cool, refreshing beverage.

  “I know how terrible it was. I don’t need to rate it. I’m just trying to figure out how to move forward. And how to convince her that I love her for her.”

  Any words he tried to string together sounded weak and rehearsed. She’d shocked him with the truth. He’d been utterly speechless and left. He wished he hadn’t. How on earth could he explain that he’d proposed to her for her? Never for the baby alone.

  It’s not as if we wanted the baby anyway. He wanted to flog himself. The one time in his life his words had failed him, and he’d live to regret those for the rest of his life. And now he seemed locked in an endless battle with himself. Unable to shake lose the fear, uncertainty, and doubt plaguing him.

  “Maybe you need to grovel. Or start over. Win her back.”

  “How?”

  “Unrelenting assault. I’m talking roses, champagne, chocolates, every goofy thing from those movies women love. All of it.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think she wants to talk to me again. I’ve ruined her life.”

  “Nope, not buying it. Try harder. Fight for her.”

  Easy for him to say. He doesn’t know what’s happened. In Phil’s words, he heard his own hope parroted back. He hoped she wanted him to fight. He hoped she could be won over.

  “She asked me to leave. Not her house, the island, probably the state. She doesn’t want to see me again.”

  “No woman who has ever said that meant it. Unless of course a restraining order is involved. Speaking as a former lawyer, I feel the need to stress that.”

  Landon raised an eyebrow. “Lawyer?”

  “Yep and a pretty good one too.”

  “How did you end up here?”

  He waved his arms vaguely. He wasn’t sure if he meant the bar or the island. Both seemed unlikely settings. Landon assessed the man again and realized something. Phil hadn’t stopped moving. He went seamlessly from task to task. Landon shifted on his stool, leaning forward on his elbows.

  “I had to make a choice about what I wanted from life. Did I want to live in a big house and never see my wife and kids? Or did I want to build something different?”

  “And you choose to build something different.”

  “More or less,” Phil shrugged. “The wife laid down the law. She’d been a lawyer too but left a couple years before I did. Taking a step back, I think she saw our life and our future more clearly than I did.”

  “So maybe that’s when she stopped listening to everything you said?”

  Phil chuckled. “That’s good. So what’s brought you here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around. And I mean at more than just my bar.”

  Landon sat up straighter. He had business to get to, phone calls to make, meetings to set, and plans to review. He shouldn’t be taking up either Phil’s time or his own. But talking to Phil helped ease something in his chest.

  “Work. Actually, I’m trying to do what you’re talking about. I lost the love of my life about a decade ago. She vanished,” Landon replied.

  “And she ended up here?” Phil’s eyes grew wide.

  “Yep, and completely by accident I saw her. My grandmother runs a dance group here. I saw a picture of her in the front row of a recital.”

  “Don’t say it’s the St. Simons Senior-itas.”

  Landon nodded slowly. Phil’s broad smile had him off-kilter. He’d missed something.

  “They are almost living legends here. Especially their leader.”

  “That’s my grandmother,” Landon replied, dropping each word carefully, to watch the impact.

  “You’re Marie Smith-Thomson’s grandson? Your grandmother is almost a myth around here. She’s tough as nails and every respects her.”

  Landon smiled. He liked hearing praise about his grandmother. He owed her so much. She understood him, she’d sheltered him, and she loved him no matter what. But he’d be the first to admit he couldn’t even begin to understand the secrets they kept from each other. How well could anyone know someone else? And wasn’t that especially true for someone you loved so dearly? No, he shook his head. Maybe seeing family members in different lights was impossible, but he’d known Kim. He’d known her heart. And as far as he could tell, he still did.

  “Thanks for the…” Landon frowned down at his pint glass. He should have bought a drink or something, coming in off the street to emotionally unload on the guy felt wrong. He reached for his wallet in his back pocket as Phil grabbed the glass from him.

  “The water’s on the house. And you’re welcome anytime. Although I’d prefer if you waited until we opened and maybe brought your grandmother. Her tap group is some of my favorite customers.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he chuckled and saw himself out.

  A chance encounter had given him a lot to think about. Phil was right. He had to fight. But first, he needed to sleep and get on with his plans for the development. Because he had no intention of leaving without her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The fans spun slowly overhead and the sunlight poured in through the windows. The space off Neptune Park, with its wall of mirrors and ballet bar, gave away its primary use as the practice space for the St. Simons Senior-itas tap dance group. But the multi-purpose room sat vacant most days and had become the meeting location for the Society of Coastal Living.

  If she didn’t know the month from her calendar, Kim wouldn’t know that any time had passed. The heat of summer continued into September and now nearing October it still showed no signs of relenting. Kim missed the change of seasons. Leaves changing color, sweaters being pulled out of storage, and curling up on the couch with a thick blanket and a good book. Autumn had always been her favorite season although in the Golden Isles the weather changed more subtly, waning from the high heat and swamp-like humidity to the fifties. Some days she even missed snow.

  Tapping her pen against the notebook in her hand, Kim sat in a row of folding chairs. Before her, the folding table held the president of the SCL as well as the treasurer and secretary. She’d been dreading making this report since the day they’d lost the bid. And now her stomach clenched even tighter at the further news that she was out of a job and didn’t know what her next move was. Kim had been accepted by the volunteer organization for her seriousness of purpose, shared vision, and drive. She knew the specifics. She’d been commended for them. Now, she felt like she was floundering. Adrift without a purpose or a plan. Just like she’d been when she lost the baby.

  Kim breathed in through her nose and held the breath, letting it fill her lungs, before exhaling. She pushed her nerves down and laid the pen and notebook flat in her lap. Control. Order. Efficiency. . She’d get herself under control; she’d find another job. And maybe Landon would leave, and then she wouldn’t have to dredge up her feelings anymore. Her talk with Trish still had her wincing. She couldn’t believe she’d emotionally unloade
d on her friend when Trish had been sharing her exciting, happy news. She only hoped Trish believed that she was happy for her. Like I hope Landon came back for me.

  “Kim? Would you like to explain the news you’ve gleaned?” The president and one of her grandmother’s friends, Lily, smiled.

  Kim smiled back, a tight, nervous grin. She slid out of the metal folding chair and smoothed down the blazer, holding tight to the pen and notebook.

  “Well, ugh,” Kim said, clearing her throat. She angled herself slightly, to address not only the council seated at the table, but also the fifteen others who had gathered for the midday meeting. “Unfortunately I don’t have a lot of good news to share.”

  Comprised of many retired members, the SCL preferred midday meetings. Kim had always managed to take a long lunch once a month without notice. Although she did appreciate the quarterly meetings on Friday nights when the rest of the volunteers were present. The crowd at the midday meetings were serious and sometimes curmudgeonly. Kim attributed the unease and slight crankiness in the air to the fact that no food was offered at the meetings. She wished she’d thought to bring a tray of donuts.

  “The development will be going forward. I won’t be on the project, however,” she continued.

  A few groans accompanied her statement.

  Lily, a retired school teacher, shot a few stern looks to the assembled group. “What do you mean?”

  “I was let go from my job. They found out about my association with the SCL and decided the conflict of interest was a breach of my contract.”

  “But we’ve had volunteers work with Nathan and Sons before and never had an issue.”

  “I didn’t think to disclose what I did in my free time, because before this project, I’ve been mainly working on civic matters. The fault lies entirely with me and my inexperience.”

  “So we’re out a mole?” Roger, the treasurer, interrupted.