Winter at the Beach

by Sheila Roberts

  “It’s such a special time of year,” she finished. “And so important to celebrate together. And you know, one of the things I used to love to do when I was a girl was to go caroling with my family and friends. Seth, do you know any Christmas carols?”

  “I think I could manage a few. What would you like to sing?” he asked.

  “‘Joy to the World,’” said Aunt Edie.

  “Oh, yeah. Jeremiah was a bullfrog,” Pete began.

  “Not that one, Pete,” Mrs. Patterson said. “The other one. Do you know it?” she asked Seth.

  “I do,” he said, and began to play.

  Taylor found it hard to sing about joy when she was so worried and angry. Greg scooted next to her on the log where they were sitting. “Could you at least try to enjoy this?” he whispered.

  “How can I?” she muttered. “I’m worried about the future, Greg. Can’t you understand that?”

  This was all too much. All this jolly, jolly, happy, happy. She left the fire and started off down the beach.

  Greg fell in step with her. “Tay, I know you’re worried. But if you could hang in there a little longer—”

  She cut him off. “How much longer, Greg? Until our cars get repossessed? Until we lose our house? I just lost a sale. We have no money coming in, and you’ve burned through our savings. Where are we going to end up if you can’t make something happen soon? What about Miranda?” He didn’t have an immediate answer for that. She went on. “Did you know that Sarah had to buy her mud boots because I didn’t have any money?”

  “You already said that. But listen, I’m going to make this happen, I promise. Can’t you believe in me?”

  “And can’t you care about me?” It was dark, but even without seeing, she knew his lips were pressed tightly together and his jaw was clenched. Why, every time they had this discussion, did it have to come down to her being disloyal if she pointed out that they were in trouble?

  “Greg, not every idea is a good one. Not every business gets off the ground. That has nothing to do with me believing in you.”

  “Yes, it does,” he insisted. “You think I can’t do this.”

  “I think you’re a very smart man. I think you’re worth your weight in gold. I don’t think you’re an entrepreneur. Does that have to mean I don’t believe in you?” He said nothing and she continued. “We set a deadline. Remember? You were going to give this two years, and if it didn’t look like anything was happening you’d get a job. Well, guess what. We passed the deadline and we’re in trouble. And not just financial trouble. I can’t go on like this.”

  She hoped he’d finally get it, would see what his stubbornness was costing him. Instead, he said, “You’ve never believed in me.”

  That again. “I’ve had it, Greg. When we get back home, I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving?” he repeated as if she was speaking in a foreign language.

  “If you want to go down the tubes you can, but you’re not taking Miranda and me with you.”

  “You can’t afford to leave,” he protested.

  Not, “I can’t live without you.” Not, “How could you even think I’d hurt you and Miranda?” It was all about money now. And the company, his mistress.

  “That was not the right thing to say,” she snapped, and turned back toward the house.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, keeping in step with her. “I meant how would you...? Why...? What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking there’s something you love more than me. I hope you and your company will be very happy together.”

  “This is crazy talk,” he said.

  “Maybe it is. But you’ve made me crazy.”

  They were almost back at the fire now. “Daddy, come help me roast a marshmallow,” Miranda called.

  “Go hang out with your daughter,” Taylor said to him. “She still loves you, which is more than I can say.”

  He left without another word, fists clenched, shoulders hunched. A man torn between crying and hitting something.

  Okay, what she’d said had been cruel. And now that she’d said it, now that she’d claimed she didn’t love him, she knew it wasn’t true. So not true. What had she done?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jenna had observed Greg and Taylor Marsh out there, two figures beyond the light of the flames. Even in the dark their body language was easy to read. This was no reconciling couple enjoying a stroll on the beach. This was a marriage in big trouble. She knew the symptoms.

  “Hey, there,” said Brody at her elbow, “cheer up. Everyone’s having fun. Your disaster party is a success.”

  Yes, everyone except Taylor and Greg was having fun. Brody and Courtney had both brought wine, and people were visiting and drinking from plastic cups as they roasted marshmallows. Even the newlyweds had joined them. She was glad the others were enjoying themselves, but she felt such empathy for Taylor and her husband. A marriage foundering on the rocks was worse than any storm Mother Nature could bring.

  She watched as Greg returned to the fire and put a marshmallow on a stick for his little girl. Darrell Wilson said something to him, and he smiled and nodded, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Have some wine,” Brody said, and handed her a cup.

  Yes, party on. Wasn’t that how life often went? You bled internally while all around you, clueless people went on with their happy lives, no one noticing.

  Of course, sometimes you denied there was a problem. Or you tried to hide it. Jenna had done both. She hadn’t wanted to give up on her own marriage for the sake of her daughter, and she hadn’t wanted to tell anyone that there was a snake in paradise for her pride’s sake. But eventually you couldn’t hide from the snake or hide it from others.

  The people with children left around nine to get them settled. Darrell and Kat Wilson also went in. She looked tired but happy, and he had his arm around her as they walked back down the path through the dune grass to the house. If only every woman could have a Darrell Wilson.

  The party finally broke up around ten thirty, with Brody, Courtney and Tyrella and the last of their houseguests heading home. By eleven it was just Jenna and Seth putting out the fire.

  “Okay, what’s wrong?” he asked.

  She didn’t bother to pretend. “I feel bad for the Marshes.”

  “I thought so. You lost your smile the minute they took off down the beach.”

  “It makes me sad to see people having marriage problems. She’s so mad.”

  “You can’t know what’s really going on. And you shouldn’t. It’s none of your business.”

  She frowned at him.

  “Take it from me, Jenna. You shouldn’t interfere in other people’s lives. It gets messy.”

  “You did,” she pointed out. He’d taken interfering to the max when he took the rap for something his sister did.

  “And look what it cost me.”

  “But wouldn’t you do the same thing if you had it to do over again?”

  “Of course, I would,” he said, sounding shocked that she’d even ask.

  “So maybe sometimes it’s a good thing to interfere,” she said.

  “Most of the time it’s not.”

  And maybe this was one of those times. Close proximity gave the illusion of closeness, but she barely knew these people. Still, as they made their way back through the dunes, Jenna resolved to say something encouraging if the opportunity presented itself.

  * * *

  The next morning, the marooned guests were in the kitchen helping themselves to the last of the muffins Aunt Edie had pulled from the freezer when Pete returned from a scouting expedition.

  “Road’s still out,” he reported before grabbing a muffin and vanishing.

  “Why is it taking so long?” Taylor Marsh demanded.

  If only Jenna knew. “I have no
idea,” she said. “I wish it was open, too.” Maybe the mess would be cleared up by afternoon. If that turned out to be the case, there’d still be time for Damien to get Sabrina back to her for Christmas.

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Aunt Edie said. “I’m sure the road will be open in time for Sabrina to come home.”

  Jenna was beginning to have her doubts. “I think I’ll call and check on her,” she said, and excused herself from the kitchen.

  Her daughter answered the phone after just two rings. “Can I come home now?”

  “The roads aren’t clear yet,” Jenna said. How long did it take to cut up some trees and move them off the road anyway? Forever, when you were living at the ends of the earth.

  “This sucks,” Sabrina said. “I want to come home.”

  “Believe me, I want you home, too. Meanwhile, though, you get to be with Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa, and Grandma will come up with all kinds of fun things to do.”

  That put a good spin on things for Sabrina. Now, if Jenna could find a way to positively spin the situation for herself... She’d never done Christmas without her daughter. Where was the upside to this? Practice for those looming empty-nest years? No, no. Surely even once her baby bird had flown off to college she’d return to the nest for the holidays.

  “I want to be with you and Grandma and Aunt Celeste and Aunt Edie,” Sabrina said. “I’m tired of being here. There’s nothing to do.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Jenna said. There was always texting. “Have you seen Marigold?” Maybe Damien could arrange a quick visit to the BFF from the old neighborhood.

  “Her family went to Disney World for Christmas,” Sabrina said irritably. “Daddy’s out looking for stuff for a new sculpture and Aurora went with him, and they didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go. Grandma’s getting her hair done and Grandpa’s watching TV. It’s so boring.”

  “But at least you have power,” Jenna pointed out. She was still making do with candles and oil lamps and charging her phone in her car.

  “I don’t care. I’d rather be there. Have you guys had a beach fire?”

  “Just a little one.”

  “This sucks,” Sabrina said once more.

  Yes, it did.

  * * *

  “Poor Jenna,” Celeste said after her sister had left the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Lisa.

  “Her daughter’s stuck up in Lynnwood with the ex. If they don’t get the road cleared, she won’t be down for Christmas,” Celeste explained. “Neither will my mom,” she added with a frown.

  Jenna Jones seemed so together, so nice. It was hard to picture her with an ex. And not to have her daughter with her at Christmas—Taylor couldn’t imagine how that would feel.

  Yet she’d laid the groundwork for a similar situation only the night before. Her appetite died, and she set aside her muffin.

  “At least we’re not marooned on an island with no hope of rescue,” said Mrs. Patterson.

  “Like in that old TV show,” Karen said. “You know, Gilligan’s Island.”

  “A three-hour tour,” sang her sister. “What would you think about that, Roger?” she asked the parrot, who was on his perch in the kitchen. “Can you say three-hour tour? Three-hour tour.”

  “Three-hour tour,” Jolly Roger repeated. “Give me whiskey.”

  “He’s got his priorities straight,” joked Darrell. “Speaking of, we’d better bring in some more wood.”

  “Good idea,” Chris said. “Come on, boys.”

  He and his sons and the men left to don their coats, Miranda trailing after them.

  “How many men does it take to bring in wood?” cracked Sarah.

  “I think the guys are actually enjoying this,” said Karen.

  “How can anybody be enjoying this?” Taylor demanded. “It’s Christmas Eve, and we’re stuck here and all our presents are back home.”

  “But we’re together,” said her sister. “And isn’t that what’s most important?”

  Taylor wanted to scream, “No! We all need to get home and back to our lives.” But what kind of life would she be returning to? Especially after what she’d said to Greg. He hadn’t so much as looked at her all morning. They were in trouble, on their way over the cliff.

  “Things can always be worse,” put in Kat Wilson. She held up her mug of instant coffee. “We could be out of coffee.”

  That made the other women chuckle.

  Taylor didn’t want to chuckle. She didn’t even want to smile. She picked up her discarded muffin and started shredding it. “I guess I’m not going to be happy this year no matter where I am,” she muttered. And why had she said that? Now she’d get a lecture from her sister.

  But it wasn’t her sister who said something. Jenna Jones had come back into the kitchen in time to hear her. “You know, I think I’ve been where you are. Not that it’s any of my business,” she hurried to add.

  It wasn’t, and Taylor wasn’t sure she wanted to hear Jenna’s story. It was bound to depress her even more than she already was.

  “I was pretty unhappy myself not so long ago,” Jenna continued. “My husband and I had split.”

  “No loss since he was a cheater,” put in her sister.

  “It wasn’t. But it was still hard to accept. If we’d had any other kind of problem short of abuse, I’d have stuck it out. In fact, I could have forgiven him for cheating and stayed with him if he hadn’t wanted the other woman more than me.”

  Yikes. Jenna had been through a lot, and yet here she was, smiling and gracious, trying to keep them all happy. How was she managing? Did she give lessons?

  “That’s awful,” said Kat. “I’m sorry.”

  “It is what it is,” Jenna said. “I wish it could be different, though. I feel sorry for my daughter. Girls need their daddies.” With this she looked straight at Taylor, igniting a flame on Taylor’s face.

  “My husband is bankrupting us,” Taylor said. “His business is going nowhere, but he won’t let go.”

  It wasn’t up there with cheating or beating, but as far as she was concerned such lack of care for her feelings ran a close second. How was she supposed to deal with that? How were they supposed to live when his greedy company was sucking the lifeblood out of them? Just like Audrey, the bloodthirsty plant in Little Shop of Horrors.

  “Ah, money problems,” Lisa said with a sage nod. “Been there, done that. My husband and I went through some bad years. I had some health issues.” She looked over at Kat. “Ovarian cancer.”

  “Mine’s uterine,” Kat said, and the two women nodded at each other in understanding.

  “Dean had gotten laid off and our COBRA had run out,” Lisa continued. “We had medical bills coming out our ears. Not good when you don’t have insurance. We finally had to declare bankruptcy.”

  “And I thought we’d had money problems. That’s awful,” Sarah said.

  “It was, but I’m still here and I never take a single day for granted. You never know what tomorrow might bring, and let me tell you, it’s a lot easier to go through the hard stuff with someone rather than alone. Right, sis?”

  Karen nodded.

  “What happened to you?” Taylor asked her.

  “We lost a child. Spinal meningitis.”

  “Been down that road, too,” Kat said to her. “It’s so hard to lose a child.”

  There was the understatement of the century. Taylor felt she was shrinking with every story that was told. She was with giants. Warriors.

  “Like I said, it’s none of my business. But your husband seems like a nice guy,” Jenna observed.

  “He is,” Taylor admitted. Then had to add in her own defense, “But he’s being stubborn. And selfish.”

  “When it comes right down to it, aren’t they all?” Karen joked.

  Kat shook her head. “
Not Darrell.”

  “He must have some flaws,” Lisa teased.

  “Okay, he refuses to take dancing lessons. He’s worried about looking stupid in front of strangers.”

  “A guy thing,” Sarah said. “They hate looking like losers.”

  “That might be why your husband’s hanging on to his business so tightly,” Kat said to Taylor. “He doesn’t want to look like a loser to you.”

  “He already does. I don’t know what else to do to get him to listen. I’m ready to leave him,” Taylor confessed. “I told him as much last night.”

  There was silence as all the women digested this news.

  Sarah was the first to speak. “Oh, Tay,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow.

  “I can’t take any more,” Taylor said. “I really can’t.” And look who she was saying this to, women who’d been through harder things than what she was going through.

  “My first husband beat me,” said Mrs. Patterson. “I didn’t stay. You do whatever you have to, dear.”

  Finally, someone who was on her side.

  Taylor was about to thank her when she added, “But you weigh your choices carefully.”

  Taylor nodded and then excused herself. She’d had all the counseling she could stand for a while.

  * * *

  The day moved on. After a lunch of canned soup Sarah and Aunt Edie started working on the clam chowder while the other adults scattered around the house. Celeste and Jenna kept the kids busy at the kitchen table painting shells, which made them happy. Until the shell that Miranda was painting for her mother broke. Since the other two she’d found had already met the same fate, this was artistic tragedy.

  “It’s okay,” Celeste told her. “You have that pretty rock you painted. Your mommy will love that.”

  “But I want a shell,” Miranda said, sniffling. “Can we get another?”

  It was getting late in the day and would be dark soon. The temperature had fallen. “I’ll tell you what,” Jenna said. “Tomorrow we’ll go look for some more.”