Sandover Beach Memories

by Emma St Clair

  “Isn’t that your lady friend?”

  Megan’s voice startled Jackson. He looked up from his laptop and over the railing of the third-floor balcony. He was doing his best to spend quality time with his daughter, which somehow ended up looking like sitting together while on different electronic devices. It was at least something. She hadn’t shut herself in her room. He’d take it.

  “Lady friend?” He glanced at her, but she didn’t look up from her phone. Down on the beach he saw a man walking a dog and a few people walking. None he recognized.

  “Girlfriend. Woman. Love interest? Whatever your generation calls them.”

  Jackson huffed and shut his laptop. He hadn’t been getting any work done, looking over the numbers for Bohn’s. It was depressing, and he didn’t mind stopping. “I don’t have any of those things. If I did, though, I’d call her my bae.”

  Megan dropped her phone. It clattered on the wooden deck. “You did not just say ‘bae.’ I thought we talked about this. Using terms that teens use doesn’t make you cool. It just makes it seem like you’re trying too hard. Where did you even hear the word ‘bae’?”

  Jackson burst out laughing at her horrified expression. The one sure way he had found to connect with Megan was humor, especially the self-deprecating kind. He liked to think that he was thawing her out. “I heard it in a song. The last time I was out at the club, getting crunk.”

  Now she groaned, but he could see the smile threatening to emerge. “I feel like I need to tutor you on how to talk. That term is like, way out of date. At the same time, I don’t want to encourage this behavior.”

  “Thanks?”

  “Anyway, isn’t that your lady friend down on the beach? Not to be confused with your bae. Since you are never using that word again.”

  Jackson stood and leaned over the balcony, looking out over the beach below. The sun had emerged earlier, helping to warm up the cool weather. It was a great day. He should probably take advantage of the weather and get out his surfboard. Before this visit, he had bought Megan her own wet suit and board, but hadn’t told her yet. After his week of having Jenna shoot him down, he didn’t think he could handle one more rejection.

  Speaking of Jenna … Megan was right. She and Rachel were coming back toward the beach access under his house, carrying beach towels. Rachel had on a beach coverup, while Jenna wore black athletic pants and a T-shirt. He loved the way the ocean wind blew her hair around her shoulders.

  Right as he was thinking that, Rachel spotted him. She waved and said something to Jenna, whose head jerked up to look at Jackson. He lifted a hand and realized that Megan was waving them up toward the house, an invitation. Rachel gave a thumbs up and grabbed Jenna’s arm, half dragging her away from the crosswalk and down below his house. Nerves jumped in Jackson’s chest. They were coming up.

  “You’re welcome.” Megan walked back into the house, buried in her phone again.

  Jackson felt like he was having a minor heart attack as he ran down the three flights to the door. This couldn’t be good. Jenna had made her feelings about him abundantly clear. He had put himself out there in person and then in the note. He had taken the risk like Beau and Jimmy suggested and Jenna shot him down. It was done. So, why was his heart like a sledgehammer pounding away in his chest?

  He swung open the door before they could knock, trying to take on his nerves with the direct approach. “Hey! Come on in.”

  Rachel walked right in, eyes huge. “Wow. This is…just wow.”

  “Thanks,” Jackson said. He felt equal parts proud and self-conscious about the house. Jenna hesitated outside the door.

  “I don’t bite,” he said lightly.

  When her eyes met his, Jackson felt a shudder move through him. Jenna gave him a small smile and stepped inside.

  Rachel had no problem walking right in and poking around. Jenna trailed her through the first floor while Jackson hung behind them, hands in his pockets. Was it too much?

  It felt like the most important project of his life, working with the builders on this house. Most of the work he did with Wells Development was focused on purchasing properties and planning future development, not design or architecture. Jackson’s real joy, though, had been in the plans for this house. Working on the layout and the design elements felt like hope, like he was writing out plans for his future. It was a commitment to being a new man, leaving the old behind.

  That all felt silly now, watching Rachel and Jenna. It was just a house. Too big, too ostentatious, too new. The weathered outside he had chosen looked more like the classic Sandover beach cottages, but it was too big. Especially considering Jackson lived alone, other than the few weekends he got to see Megan.

  Rachel asked a million questions about flooring and the kinds of windows and the art on the walls. Jenna kept whatever she was thinking behind her eyes. Did she love it? Did she think it was too much?

  Probably. It was a five-bedroom, four-bath house and he lived alone. Only when Megan was here did a secondary bedroom see any use. And then she spent much of her weekend locked in it as she was now. They could all hear music blasting from behind a closed door.

  “You’ve got a hot tub out here!” Rachel said, flinging open the doors to the first-floor balcony. “And balconies on every floor. Love it.”

  “With this view, I had to. You’re welcome any time. The hot tub during winter is particularly fun.”

  “Tempting,” Rachel said, dipping her hand in the water. “Jenns, feel this.”

  Jenna walked past Jackson and put a hand in the water. “Nice.”

  Nice? What was with her? Jackson almost missed the sharp-tongued Jenna who had lashed out at him multiple times.

  Rachel went back inside and was halfway up the stairs to the next level. Jenna lingered on the balcony and Jackson waited. Their eyes met again as she turned to go back inside. He wanted to look away, but held her gaze until she looked down. There was an energy between them that made his heart do a full-on somersault. Wordlessly, she moved past him up the stairs. Jackson made a conscious effort not to stare at her legs and backside as he followed her up. He wasn’t going to be that guy. Even if she had great legs.

  Rachel and Jenna moved on more quickly from the second floor—which was more bedrooms and another balcony. Music came from behind Megan’s closed door.

  The real star was the top level. Jackson loved how the light hit you before you got to the top of the last flight of stairs. The top level was almost all windows. It felt like you were ascending out of shadows into the light. The blue-gray paint he had chosen for the walls was a perfect extension of the sky and sea views all around.

  Having the master and main living area on the top floor was the opposite of most classic floor plans, where the kitchen, living areas, and master bedroom would be on the first floor. But with the sweeping views on the ocean front, it made much more sense to have the main living areas and his bedroom on the third floor.

  “This is a lot of stairs,” Rachel said, breathing heavily. “But the views! Wow. Totally worth it.”

  Jackson stood near the kitchen, leaning against the granite-topped island as they took in the room with its high ceilings, simple furniture, and incredible sweeping view of the ocean. Rachel threw open the glass doors and went out to the main balcony. Jenna paused at the half staircase tucked away just off the living room, leading up to what Jackson called the Tower Room. At the top of a half staircase, the small square seating area had windows on four sides, making it seem almost like a castle turret. If he wasn’t on one of the balconies, Jackson spent his time up in the Tower Room. It was where he had his morning devotionals. His Bible and journal were still up there, probably open on the table …

  Jackson’s mouth suddenly felt dry. Jenna was going up. He followed as quickly as he could without chasing her. He definitely didn’t want Jenna reading his feelings laid bare in the private journal of mixed thoughts and prayers.

  He reached the top of the six steps up and grabbed the open jou
rnal from the couch and tucked it and his bible under the other book he had up here: Field Guide to the Birds. Jenna turned a slow circle, a panoramic view of the island. The table also held a pair of reading glasses and binoculars.

  “You found my favorite room in the house,” Jackson said. “I call it the tower room.”

  Jenna turned, an unfamiliar look on her face. Jackson realized that it was awe. He felt the swell of pride. “It’s…amazing. Truly. These views. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the whole island, end to end.” These were the first words she had spoken since she entered the house. Her voice was softer than he had heard it this week. Jackson felt a thrill of pleasure.

  “Does it make you want to stay?”

  She looked away, down the beach. “I don’t know what I want.”

  Jackson could work with that. Not knowing, whether she was talking about staying at Sandover or something more, gave him hope. Hope that she might stay, hope that she might see Jackson in a different way.

  She picked up The Field Guide to Birds, one eyebrow raised. “Yours?”

  He smiled. “Busted. You like shells; I like birds. The reading glasses are mine too. And the binoculars.” He held up the binoculars to his face, then switched to the reading glasses, the binoculars, the reading glasses. “Far away, close up. Far away, close up.”

  She giggled and he felt a rush of joy at the sound. Maybe his plan of attack to warm Megan up with humor would work for Jenna too.

  “I’m getting motion sickness just watching you.”

  “Yeah, that was a poor choice.” Jackson set them down on the table. “Luckily, when I’m watching your house, I just need the binoculars, not the glasses.”

  “What?” Her eyes went wide before she whipped her head around to look toward the wildlife preserve near her neighborhood. There was no way to see her house from here. Jackson covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. She turned back and pushed his shoulder. “Shut up.”

  “You believed me for a second there. Which makes me feel like maybe I’m giving off too much of a creepy stalker vibe.”

  “I only like non-creepy stalking. When you get to the point of using binoculars, it’s gone too far.”

  Jackson smiled. This felt like Jenna. The way he always saw her with other people. Never him. Lightness and humor—that’s how he remembered her.

  She stared at him, assessing. He felt a warmth rising in his cheeks at her gaze. She looked like she was about to say something. He waited. Sometimes people needed a little bit of time. He’d learned that with Mercer. Listening really was an active thing—making a conscious choice not to fill the silence with words, allowing room for people to say what they really needed to say. In this moment, he could hear his heart beating in his chest like a kick-drum.

  “Hey, Jackson—”

  She was interrupted by Megan’s voice, calling up the tower room staircase.

  “When’s this super fun old-people party breaking up? Aren’t we doing sushi, J?” Turning to Jenna, Megan stage-whispered: “He likes to eat mid-afternoon so we can get the happy hour prices. He may be rich, but he’s cheap.”

  Jackson felt immediately and intensely embarrassed. Megan had a way of doing that. She liked throwing adults off-balance by her casual and often disrespectful way of talking to them, especially with Jackson. He didn’t mind as much when it was just the two of them, but what would Jenna think about his brash, outspoken daughter? Did she even know he had a daughter before today? Now that he had warmed her up, would Megan be a deal-breaker?

  “Hey, that’s just smart. I appreciate a good deal,” Jenna said. Jackson shot her a surprised but grateful smile.

  Jackson started down to the main floor. Jenna followed him. “Megan, have you met Jenna and Rachel? We were all friends in high school.” He emphasized the word “friends.” The last thing he needed was her making a comment about his interest in Jenna, which Megan obviously had noticed.

  “We’ve met,” Jenna said as Rachel came in from the balcony.

  “Wow. High school, huh? I bet you’ve got some great and embarrassing stories.”

  “Oh yeah,” Jenna said. Jackson’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t believe half of them. Like that one time Jackson streaked—”

  Megan’s hands flew to her ears. “La la la la la! I can’t hear you!”

  Streaked? He had never streaked anything—that’s one road he’d never gone down. Jackson met Jenna’s smug face. She totally read that situation right and shut Megan down. Color him impressed. When Jenna winked at him, Jackson almost fell over.

  Rachel rolled her eyes and thrust out her hand. “You must be Megan. I’m Rachel. It’s good to meet you.”

  Megan shook her hand limply, with an exaggerated effort. “Cool. So, dinner, J? Tick tock. Feel free to invite your friends to daddy-daughter bonding time.”

  “We’ve got dinner plans later,” Rachel said.

  “Another time, maybe.” Jenna looked right at Jackson. Was that an invitation?

  “We’ll leave in a few minutes, Megan. Want to meet me downstairs?”

  “Yep. Good to meet you and all those polite things I’m supposed to say.”

  Rachel snorted as Megan stomped down the stairs. “Is this what I have to look forward to in a few years?”

  “Doubtful,” Jackson said. “I’ve seen you with your kids and you’re amazing. I have no idea what I’m doing. And Megan’s mom…” He made a face. There was nothing nice he could say about Kim.

  “Hey, is this an elevator?” Jenna asked. She pulled on the locked door leading to the elevator, then ran her hand over the button on the wall next to it.

  “It is.” One part of the design that the builder had insisted on was an elevator. Apparently, this was standard for houses three stories or more, especially where the living areas were up top.

  “You may not think you’ll ever sell this place,” the builder had said. “But you might. And for these three-story homes, people expect these now. Think of lugging groceries up three flights of stairs.”

  Reluctantly, Jackson had agreed to a small (and slow) elevator, which he almost never used. Jenna pulled at the door, which looked like an ordinary wooden door with the elevator button next to it in the wall.

  “It really helps with bringing up groceries,” Jackson said. “And I’m also planning ahead for my retirement. These knees won’t last forever.”

  “Can we ride in it?” Jenna asked. She looked excited suddenly, happier than Jackson had seen her.

  Spending a few minutes in a small space with Jenna? “Absolutely.” He pushed the button to call the elevator. The sound of the machinery whirred to life almost as noisily as his heart beating in his ears.

  Rachel frowned. “I didn’t think you liked small spaces.”

  “I don’t. But it’s an elevator! In a house! It’s just three floors. I’ll be fine.”

  Jenna bounced on her toes, her face bright with excitement. It was a beautiful look on her. Jackson turned back to stare at the elevator door, hoping his feelings weren’t totally obvious.

  “I’ll take the stairs, thanks. Jackson, thanks for showing us around. Your place is incredible! You’re sure you can handle that, Jenns?”

  Jenna rolled her eyes. “Race you to the bottom!”

  Jackson turned to Jenna as Rachel started down the stairs. “She’ll win. In about ten minutes, this thing will have made its way up from the bottom floor. In another ten minutes after that, we’ll make it down.

  “So, what you’re telling me is that this thing is a glorified dumb waiter.”

  Jackson grinned. “Precisely.”

  “Cool.” Jenna pulled at the door again. “Why is it locked?”

  “That stays locked until the elevator arrives. There’s a magnet that unlocks only when the elevator stops in front of the door. Keeps people from falling down the shaft. You know. Safety first.” The elevator reached their floor with a thump. There was no ding, but a metal clack. “See? Magnet.” Jackson opened the door and pulled aside an a
ccordion-like partition to reveal the tiny space inside. “Ta da! Welcome to the dumb waiter.”

  “It’s adorable! Not as small as I thought it would be.” Jenna followed Jackson inside.

  It was small enough that Jackson could smell the sunscreen on Jenna’s skin, something fruity and tropical. Her hair brushed against his bicep as she moved next to him. “Shut the outer door, then pull that sliding door shut, and we’ll be in business.”

  Jenna pulled both the doors closed behind her and the elevator hummed loudly to life again. She grinned over at him, still looking like she was on an amusement park ride. “Wow, loud.”

  “Loud and slow. This is only like the third time I’ve ridden in this thing.”

  “I’m sure for rental homes this would be a great feature. People carrying in all their coolers and groceries up to the top floor.”

  “Kids taking joy rides is more like it. My elevator guy said that kids are always breaking these in the rental houses.”

  “I bet. Are we even on the second floor yet?”

  Jackson realized too late what was about to happen as Jenna stretched her hand toward the sliding partition door. Time slowed. Jackson knew before she did it that Jenna was going to pull it open. He reached to stop her, but he was a step too far away.

  “Don’t—”

  She pulled open the door. The elevator lurched to a stop.

  Jenna pitched forward and Jackson grabbed her arm to steady her. They stared at each other, eyes wide. As aware as he was of the stuck elevator, he was more aware of his hand on her arm.

  “Did I just break your elevator? Are we stuck? Tell me we aren’t stuck. Please, Jackson.”

  Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, already edged with desperation. He could already see sweat beading on her forehead. He hadn’t noticed that it was hot in here, but it really was. Hotter now that they weren’t moving. Or was he imagining that? All these things seemed tiny compared to the way it felt when his name fell from her lips in a plea.

  He had expected her to pull away from his grip on her arm, but if anything, she leaned closer to him. He loosened his grip and slid his hand around to her back. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.” Jenna nodded, and Jackson began tracing circles on her back with a flat palm. “Stay with me and just breathe, okay?”