Winter at the Beach

by Sheila Roberts

Greg was right. Whatever had possessed her?

  Jenna swept her flashlight beam along the beach as they walked. There was nothing but sand. She pointed the light to where the driftwood lay in misshapen heaps, reaching wooden claws toward a blackened sky.

  Taylor shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold and the light rain that was falling. “What if we don’t find her?”

  “We’ll find her, Tay,” Greg said, and pulled her close.

  Taylor clamped an arm around him and hung on. “She’s probably so scared.”

  “She can’t be far,” Jenna said, making another sweep with her flashlight.

  “Miranda!” Taylor called. “Miranda!” The wind blew the words right back in her face.

  From down the beach she could hear her brother-in-law calling her daughter, too. Surely, Miranda would hear one of them.

  Unless she was in a strange car being taken who knew where. The tears began pouring down Taylor’s face.

  “Miranda!” Greg called, and Taylor could hear the panic in his voice.

  They walked farther, illuminating nothing but sand, seaweed and driftwood, until finally, after Greg had called their daughter’s name again, they heard something faint.

  “I think it came from over there,” Greg said and began to race toward a huge piece of driftwood. “Miranda! Miranda!”

  Taylor and Jenna stumbled along behind, both echoing him.

  Suddenly the light caught a little head matted with wet hair. Miranda stood up from behind the wood and held out her arms. “Daddy!”

  Taylor allowed herself to indulge in some serious crying as Greg rushed to their little girl and scooped her up. Thank God, her baby was safe.

  She and Jenna arrived in time to hear Greg asking, “Why did you leave the house all by yourself?”

  “I wanted to get a shell to paint for Mommy,” Miranda said in between sobs.

  “Baby, I don’t need a shell, not when I have you,” Taylor said, brushing a wet curl from her cheek.

  “I didn’t want you to be sad.”

  It had been evident all weekend that Taylor wasn’t happy. Guilt washed over her like a tidal wave.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she said, and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “You don’t have to worry about making me happy.”

  “Are you happy now?” Miranda wanted to know.

  “Now that we’ve found you? Yes, I’m very happy.”

  “I’m glad. I was scared, Daddy. I got lost.”

  Miranda wasn’t the only one who’d been lost.

  Jenna got out her cell phone and alerted the other searchers that Miranda had been found, and Taylor called Sarah and told her to cancel the 911 call.

  “At least she didn’t run away,” Jenna said as they made their way back to the house. “Been there, done that.”

  Taylor couldn’t even imagine having to cope with such a thing. “How old was she?”

  “Barely fourteen. It was only last summer. She wanted to go back where we used to live and visit with her father. I didn’t get her there quickly enough, and she decided to take matters into her own hands.” Jenna shook her head. “Just some of the lovely fallout from divorce.”

  It seemed that whether you stuck together or separated, there was fallout. Still, that moment of shared panic, of clinging to each other, had confirmed for Taylor that, no matter what she had to go through in life, she didn’t want to go through it without Greg. Maybe money problems really weren’t the worst kind of problems to have, not if you had each other.

  But after what she’d said, did they?

  They were almost at the house when the lights came on. Welcome back to civilization.

  “Thank God you found her!” Sarah greeted them as they trooped in the back door. “We sure are glad to see you, peanut,” she said to Miranda and rumpled her hair.

  “It was dark out there,” Miranda informed her and shivered.

  “I’m going to get her a blanket,” Greg said. He handed her to Taylor and disappeared into the living room.

  Miranda rummaged in her coat pocket and pulled out a small clamshell. “I found your shell, Mommy.”

  Tears flooded Taylor’s eyes as she took it. “Thank you, baby.” I think I might have found something, too.

  “You’re a drowned rat,” said Sarah. “I’ll grab a towel.”

  “We have some apple juice left. I’ll make some hot cider to warm your tummy,” said Mrs. Patterson. She already had a bowl out and flour and sugar. “And now that we’ve got power and a working oven again, I’m going to bake some cookies. We need to celebrate.”

  “I like cookies,” Miranda said through chattering teeth. Greg was back with a blanket, and he peeled off her wet coat and pants and wrapped her in it. “Now, I’m snug as a bug in a rug,” she said happily.

  Taylor realized her knees had turned to mush, and she collapsed onto a chair. Mrs. Patterson opened a cupboard and removed a bottle of schnapps and poured some into a small glass. “You’d better drink this.”

  Taylor took it, murmuring her thanks.

  Their hostess gave Greg some as well, which he downed in one gulp.

  Sarah was back with a towel, and she dried Miranda’s hair, then Greg carried Miranda into the living room and set her down in front of the woodstove. Taylor followed and sat next to her, pulling her close.

  “We need to get the heat on in your rooms again,” Jenna said.

  “I think we left ours on,” Greg told her, “but I’ll go check.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Taylor said. Then, to her daughter, “You stay right here with Aunt Sarah, okay? No going outside by yourself.”

  “I don’t want to go out there,” Miranda said. “It’s scary in the dark.”

  It sure had been. Taylor gave her daughter a fierce hug and a kiss, and then went out with Greg. They started down the front stairs and encountered Seth’s search party coming up.

  “Where was she?” Chris asked.

  “Crouched behind some driftwood,” said Greg. “She went to look for a shell and got lost.”

  “Thank God you found her,” Chris said. “Are you putting her in warm clothes so she doesn’t get hypothermia?”

  Good old Mr. Knows Everything. Who’d gone out in the dark and cold to look for her child.

  “She’s wrapped in a blanket, and Mrs. Patterson’s making her hot cider,” Greg said. “We’re off to make sure the heat’s on in our room.”

  “We left ours on,” Chris said. “But I’m not going back until it’s warm in there. I about froze my ass off out here.”

  “Thank you,” Taylor said to him, and hoped he understood how fervently she meant it.

  “Mrs. Patterson’s pouring something to keep you warm,” Greg told him, and he and Taylor kept walking.

  Neither of them spoke as they crossed the parking lot to their room. The outside lights were on again, and Taylor could see the sober expression on her husband’s face. Now was when he’d tell her he’d had it with her complaining and angry outbursts, that it was fine if she wanted nothing more to do with him because he felt the same way. How she wished she’d never said what she’d said.

  Their frantic search in the dark had shown her husband to her in a whole new light. He was a poor businessman, and deluded, but a good man.

  They could fix their situation. Their marriage. She’d get a job with a regular paycheck to keep them going. Sell houses on the side. They could make it. If he could forget all the awful things she’d said to him.

  “Greg, what I said the other night...”

  His jaw clenched tighter than a clamshell and he shook his head.

  “I was wrong. So wrong.”

  They were at their room now. A car drove up, washing them in its headlights. Driftwood Inn guests coming back from their temporary lodgings.

  Greg unlocked the door and opened it.
The room was dark and cold.

  He flipped on the light, grabbed her arm and pulled her up against him. “Tay,” he said even as she said his name. Then he kissed her, giving her the best Christmas present she could ask for—hope. “Aw, Tay, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I’ve been wrong to keep hanging on to this business. I couldn’t let go, and I took us all down.”

  Exactly what she’d been thinking, but suddenly she felt so bad for him that amnesia set in. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Out there on the beach...” He shook his head again. “It was a wake-up call. There’s nothing more important to me than you and Miranda. If I lose you, I don’t know what I’ll do. I know I’ve messed us up, but give me a chance to fix it.”

  She’d done her share of messing up, too. “Oh, Greg.” She threw her arms around his neck and began to cry. “I’m sorry for all the angry things I’ve said. And I’m really sorry for what I said last night. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Just say you love me. I need to hear it.”

  “I do love you.”

  “That’s all that matters,” he said, and kissed her again. “I’m going to make things right,” he promised. “I’m going to pull the plug on the business.”

  “Oh, no.” Perversely, now that he was going to do what she’d been after him to do for months, she didn’t want him to. Taylor the dream-crusher. She’d finally gotten what she wanted, but she’d also killed Greg’s dream.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You wanted that business.”

  “I want you more.” He reached over to the thermostat and turned up the heat. Then he kissed her again, turning up her thermostat, as well.

  Fumbling, hands, fumbling apologies—they kept at it until she didn’t notice that the room still wasn’t warm. It was warm enough for them to be together in a way they hadn’t in months, with enough heat to set the whole motel on fire.

  Half an hour later, they walked back across the parking lot to fetch their daughter. And to thank everyone for helping them find her. Once again, they weren’t speaking. But they were holding hands.

  * * *

  None of the guests seemed in a hurry to return to their rooms. Edie Patterson was in the kitchen, happily baking, Kat was comfy on the couch, sipping tea and visiting with the sisters and Sarah, watching the boys play with little Miranda, who seemed to have come through her ordeal unscathed. The men had all enjoyed finishing off the schnapps and were talking about another poker game.

  Except Darrell. He passed on joining in. Much as he’d enjoyed getting to know these people, he was ready to go back to the room and have his wife to himself. But he wanted to make sure it was warm enough, so he slipped out of the house to go over and crank up the heat.

  On his way, he walked by the Marshes coming back. They were both smiling and holding hands. He liked to think the advice he and Chris had dished out had sunk in, but suspected this new closeness had more to do with the trauma they’d just experienced. Hard times had a way of throwing a couple into the furnace and burning away the dross. If there was something there, something still between you, then you came out better and stronger in the end.

  He felt that was what had happened with Kat and him. They’d always had a solid marriage, but this latest trial had welded them together more closely than ever. They were a team, and they would beat the cancer. Inside the room, he turned up the heat. It was a funky room, decorated in beach overload, but Kat had been pleased with it. For the short time they’d been in it.

  Boy, had his plans for a fun, romantic getaway blown up in his face. Storms, power outages, peanut butter sandwiches instead of fancy meals in restaurants. And yet she’d loved it.

  Back at the house he came in to hear her laughing at something Lisa had said while the parrot called, “Merry Christmas,” from his cage. She looked at Darrell and smiled. The woman was a trouper.

  “Come try these oatmeal cookies Edie made,” she said to him. “You’re going to love them.” He sure loved the way they smelled. Between the cookies and the cinnamon candle Edie had burning on her hall table, the place smelled like a bakery.

  He joined Kat on the couch and helped himself to a cookie. It tasted even better than it smelled.

  Looking around the room, you’d never know everyone had survived a storm and gone days without power. The scene made him think of some old Norman Rockwell painting. Greg and Taylor Marsh had joined Celeste, Jenna, and Sarah, and were sitting on the floor, playing a game with the kids. The other men had set up the card table and were into their poker game. Karen and Lisa were comfy in chairs, holding steaming mugs and Edie was passing around more cookies. The Christmas tree cast a colorful glow over everyone.

  “We need another victim over here, Wilson,” Chris said. “Waters is fleecing us big-time.”

  He liked these men, even crusty old Pete, but he didn’t want to sit around playing poker with them all night. He had every intention of enjoying a game that was best played by only two.

  But then Kat said, “Go ahead, Darrell. I’m in no hurry to leave.”

  So it looked like he wasn’t, either. He moved over to the card table and sat in for a couple of hands.

  At last little Miranda was yawning. “I think it’s time we got you into bed,” said her mother.

  “You boys, too,” Sarah said. “You’ve all been up since the crack of dawn.”

  “I’m not tired,” protested Christopher.

  “Oh, yes, you are,” said his mother.

  “I think I’ve had enough,” Chris said. “Any more poker with these guys and I’ll have to sell a kid.”

  “Don’t sell me!” cried James.

  “How about I sell you to Santa?”

  “Okay,” James agreed, making several of the grown-ups chuckle.

  “You’ve all been so great,” Kat said to Edie as she and Darrell started out the door. “You’ve really been so generous to us.”

  “We were happy to do it,” said Edie.

  “Yes, we were,” Jenna added.

  “This has been so much fun,” Kat gushed.

  Darrell wasn’t sure he’d go that far, but he also thanked the women and then hustled his wife out the door.

  She linked her arm through his as they walked back to their room. “This has been a wonderful anniversary,” she said. “Of course, I hated missing Christmas with the kids, but if it wasn’t for that, I’d have to say it’s been one of the best anniversaries we’ve ever had. You did everything in your power to make it wonderful for me. Darrell Wilson, you’re the best husband ever.”

  The best husband ever. He smiled. If she thought he was the best now, just wait till they got back to the room.

  * * *

  Back in their room, Karen and Lisa charged their cell phones and called their husbands to let them know they had power again.

  “Good,” said Doug when Karen told him. “If the trucks got in to fix the power, that means the roads should be clear and you can come back home.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “About time, too,” he said. “The kids stopped by and were bummed that you weren’t home yet. They’ve got an announcement to make, and they want us both there.”

  Karen knew what that meant. “I’ll bet Jillian’s finally pregnant.”

  “Yeah. They looked pretty happy. Which was more than I could say for myself. I had to go over to Gwen and Randy’s for dinner. They might be good friends, but that woman is the worst cook in the world. Man, I missed your red velvet cake. But I missed you even more. It’s not the same without you here.”

  Aw, sweet.

  And then he ruined the sweet moment by adding, “No more of these sister trips. You get in too much trouble.”

  What was that in her husband’s voice? Condescension? “Douglas Owens, you
make it sound like I can’t survive on my own. Well, guess what. I did. I even helped rescue a lost child.” Okay, so she hadn’t been one of the ones to find Miranda. She’d been out there searching, though. “And there’ll be more sister trips in the future because I want a life.”

  “What are you talking about? We have a life.”

  “Sitting around like a pet rock isn’t a life. I’m going to get out and start doing. Maybe, once in a while, I’ll let you join me. If you’re nice.”

  “Your sister is a bad influence,” he informed her.

  “Finish off the Christmas cookies and I’ll see you when I get back,” she said and ended the call. “And I hope he enjoys them because those are the last cookies we’ll see until we’ve both managed some serious weight loss.”

  “Whoa, who are you?” Lisa teased.

  “The same woman I’ve always been.”

  “I’m proud of you, sis.”

  Karen smiled. “I hate to admit it, but you were right. I do need to get out more. This weekend showed me how much life I’ve been missing. I want to live it while I still can.”

  “Amen to that,” Lisa said. “Maybe come spring, we can go to Harrison Hot Springs. And take our tennis racket.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Karen said. “I haven’t picked up a racket in years.”

  “Good. Then maybe I can finally beat you.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Karen said.

  Lisa’s cell rang. “It’s Dean. How much you want to make a bet that Doug’s called him? Hi, Deano,” she answered.

  “Doug says you guys have power again. Does that mean you’re coming home?”

  “If the roads are clear.”

  “Good. I’ve missed you. It was really weird not having you with me today.”

  She’d missed out on spending Christmas with his obnoxious family. Gee, what a shame. But it did seem strange not to have her husband with her on such an important holiday. She’d make it up to him when she got back.

  Or better yet... “Hey, Deano. What do you think of kidnapping Doug and you boys coming down here to spend New Year’s with us at the beach?” she asked.