Driftwood Lane

by Denise Hunter

  “He loves us so much. Look at how He’s blessed you with those kids. Your dad left them to you, Meridith. He knew leaving you was wrong, and I know he felt ashamed. Eva didn’t say much about it, but enough to make me aware that T. J. regretted the void he’d left you with. Thank God we have a heavenly Father who can fill all our voids.”

  I want that, God. I want what Rita has—a real relationship with You. I want You to fill all my voids. She remembered what the pastor said every Sunday about repentance. I’m sorry for all the wrong I’ve done, for the way it’s stood between You and me.

  “What’s wrong?” Rita’s nose wrinkled, the freckles gathering. “I’ve only confused you, haven’t I?”

  Meridith smiled for the first time that morning. “Actually, things are very right. You’ve helped me see some things—the difference between religion and faith, I think.”

  Rita smiled. “Oh, wow. Really? All that blathering made sense?”

  “It did to me. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, honey.”

  “Now if I can just get a handle on this Jake thing.”

  “Well, I don’t how to tell you this, but sometimes the thing you’re most afraid of is the thing you need most.”

  Meridith pedaled toward Brant Point. The afternoon heat had burnt off the morning chill hours ago, and her legs ached from pedaling. But she wasn’t ready to go home. She still had so much thinking to do before she faced Jake.

  When she reached the lighthouse, she dismounted and set the kickstand. The lighthouse stood like a solid sentinel guarding the harbor. It had withstood the tests of time and storms. As if some of that fortitude might rub off, she lowered herself at the structure’s base among the boulders, bracing her back against the weathered white shingles.

  A few cumulus clouds had gathered, and one slid in front of the sun, darkening the landscape.

  All the things she’d experienced since coming to the island had culminated in a kind of spiritual understanding that clarified things. Trusting wasn’t easy for her, and trusting God would be a daily challenge, but she saw now it was what she’d been missing. A crucial piece of the puzzle had slid into place.

  But what did she do with these feelings for Jake? Sometimes the thing you’re most afraid of is the thing you need most. Rita’s words had haunted her all morning.

  How could she fear the very thing she needed? And how could she surrender to something so terrifying?

  One day at a time. Her friend’s words had a way of surfacing at the most annoying times.

  Would the fear ever leave? Maybe if she came to trust Jake and found him reliable. Maybe if she saw that the unsettled feeling he triggered could lead to something good. The kiss had been good; she couldn’t deny that. Very good.

  The clouds shifted, and Meridith squinted against the glare on the water. God, I don’t know what to do. Show me the way and give me the courage to do what I should.

  The wind blew across the sound, fanning her face with a cool breath. Could she face her fear and let her love for Jake bloom? What about their future? She had no doubt he’d be a great father for the children, but she was selling the house. Was he willing to leave Nantucket?

  One day at a time. Maybe it wasn’t such bad advice. Despite what she’d learned in childhood, change could be good, right? If she could just let loose and let it happen. The thought sent a tremor of fear through her.

  She’d learned early to hold on tightly, to control her surroundings, her feelings. But control didn’t buy safety. She couldn’t even control her feelings, much less anything else. Control was a false foundation that crumbled and left her vulnerable.

  She didn’t need to control. She needed to let go and trust God, and it was hard. But He was her new foundation. She pictured it beneath her, solid and unwavering. It would be okay.

  Meridith checked her watch and saw it was nearing time for the children’s return. She stood, dusting the sand from her jeans, then hopped back on her bike and pedaled toward the house.

  Forty

  Meridith stayed busy all week waxing the wood floors and finishing the scrapbooks in her spare time. The Goldmans had returned their signed papers with a down payment, and the sale was a done deal. The closing was in thirty days.

  She should’ve been relieved. Not only was the house sold, but it was going to a nice couple who appreciated its history. Instead, though, she felt only trepidation about telling the children. About leaving Jake. She found herself praying a lot, feeling lost, and praying anyway. She’d have to tell them soon. Next week, before the end of school, so they could say good-bye to their friends and have almost a month to adjust to the idea.

  She’d expected Jake to pressure her, but he’d surprised her. He was nothing more than friendly, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Sometimes she caught him staring with longing in his eyes, but as soon as she caught his eye, he looked away. If not for those moments, she might’ve thought she had imagined the kiss and his declaration of love.

  On Wednesday as she was making dinner, she saw movement on the beach. She set the casserole on the stovetop to cool and walked to the window. Jake was out there. She could only see him from the shoulder up because of the grassy slope. He bent over, disappeared, then stood.

  The wind tousled his hair, and he shook it from his face. He was talking to someone, she could see his lips moving, but she saw no one else. Strange.

  “I’m done,” Ben said, entering the kitchen. “What are you looking at?”

  “Nothing,” she said, but Ben was already beside her.

  “He still working with Piper?”

  “Working with her?”

  Ben shrugged. “Trying to get her to walk on the beach, you know. Can I watch TV now?”

  “Dinner’s ready. Can you call Max and Noelle?” Meridith slid on the oven mitts and grabbed the casserole.

  “Max! Noelle!”

  Meridith gave Ben a look. “I meant go get them.”

  “Oh.” Ben shrugged and lopped off toward the dining room.

  Ten minutes later they were at the table, the kids scarfing down dinner and complaining about school.

  “There’s only a week and half more,” Meridith said.

  “A week and half too much,” Max said.

  “I hate school.” Ben blew on a bite of the casserole before shoving it in his mouth.

  “Hard part’s over,” Jake said. “Man up.”

  “I’m only seven!”

  Meridith smothered a grin.

  “And I’m not a man,” Noelle said.

  “Duly noted,” Jake said.

  Outside the window, Piper barked.

  “Probably has a squirrel treed again,” Max said. “You’d think they’d figure out that Piper won’t leave the yard and build their nests next door.”

  “Not for long,” Ben said. “Jake’s helping her.”

  “Good luck with that.” Max scooped another helping of corn.

  “Just needs a little coaxing is all,” Jake said.

  Max shrugged. “I think you’re wasting your time. Dad tried that already, and she wouldn’t budge.”

  “She’s too afraid,” Ben said.

  Meridith’s eyes darted to Jake’s face, just a quick look.

  But Jake was looking back, and the quick look stretched into long seconds. “I’m a patient man.” His brown eyes warmed under her gaze.

  The double meaning kick-started Meridith’s heart. She couldn’t drag her eyes away until she felt warmth climbing her cheeks.

  Meridith finished Ben’s scrapbook on Saturday morning, but she waited until the guests were out to dinner before she tucked the albums in separate boxes and called the children to Noelle’s room. She was pleased with the results and thought the children would be too.

  Noelle clicked offline and rolled back from the desk. “What’s up?”

  Max and Ben entered the room and flopped on Noelle’s unmade bed.

  “What’s that?” Ben asked.

  Meridith settled besi
de them and set the boxes on the floor. “I put something together for each of you . . .” Now that the moment had arrived, she second-guessed herself. What if the albums only made them sad? What if the memories deepened their pain, reminded them of all they were missing?

  “What is it?” Max’s feet dangled from the bed, the strings of his tennis shoes flopping as he swung his feet.

  “Well . . . I think I’ll just show you, okay?” She handed the first box to Noelle, the second to Max. “This one’s yours,” she said to Ben.

  They lifted the lids, and Noelle was the first to see the album. The cover featured a photo of her standing between her mom and dad. They were gazing at her like she hung the moon while she smiled shyly at the camera.

  Noelle ran her fingers across the photo. “A photo album.”

  Max pulled his from the box and began flipping slowly through it. “Cool.”

  “We each have our own?” Ben asked quietly.

  “Yes.” Meridith watched them, her heart in her throat, as they flipped the pages reverently. “I found the photos tucked away and thought you might like to have them in an album.”

  Noelle paused over a photo. “Remember going fishing at Hummock Pond?” she asked Max. “Mom took this right before you fell in.”

  “Here’s one when we got Piper,” Ben said. “She fitted in my arms.”

  Max flipped through his quietly, stopping at each page to study the photos. He tugged the bill of his dad’s ball cap.

  Noelle wiped her eyes, but the curtain of her hair screened her face.

  “Now if I ever start forgetting what they looked like,” Ben said, “I can just open my special album.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.” Meridith put her arm around his bony shoulders. She still wasn’t the most outwardly affectionate person, but it was getting easier.

  They continued flipping through their albums, showing each other their photos and reminiscing aloud about vacations and holidays.

  Meridith listened, enjoying the privilege of sharing their special moments.

  When Max reached the end, he closed his album and set it behind him on the bed. “Thanks, Meridith.”

  Ben hugged his album against his chest. “Yeah, thanks. I love it.”

  Piper barked outside, and Max went to the window.

  Ben popped off the bed and started toward the door. “I’m putting mine in my room.”

  A moment later Noelle flung herself into Meridith’s arms. Meridith embraced her, ran her hand down the silky length of her hair.

  Something bubbled up inside she’d never felt before, a mixture of relief and pride and love. She had a sense, finally, that things would be okay, even with Noelle. That when the storms hit, they’d work through them.

  When Noelle pulled away, she ducked her head, but not before Meridith saw her wet cheeks. Meridith gently wiped away the trail of tears.

  “Hey, look at Piper!” Max called, oblivious to the tender moment.

  Noelle approached the window, wiping the rest of her tears, sniffling.

  Meridith followed, stood behind the children, peeking between them. Jake was on his haunches on the beach. A few feet away, Piper stood, one paw poised in the air. Jake patted his knees, said something.

  Piper set the paw in the sand, took a step. Jake clapped his hands, then held them out, coaxing.

  Piper, crouched, took one more tentative step.

  “She’s doing it,” Noelle said.

  Max unlocked the window, and the wood frame squawked as he raised the sash.

  Jake’s words carried faintly on the wind. “Come on! That’s it, girl, a little farther.”

  Piper took another step, then another. Jake gathered her in his arms. “Good girl!”

  Max pressed his face close to the screen. “You did it!” he shouted.

  Jake and Piper looked toward him, and Jake gave a thumbs-up.

  “I’m going down,” Max said.

  “Me too.”

  Five seconds later she heard them clomping down the back stairs. Meridith edged closer to the window and watched Jake ruffling Piper’s fur, watched the dog’s back half wagging.

  Then Jake was looking toward the window, toward her, a satisfied grin stretching his mouth, and she couldn’t stop the one that spread across her own face.

  Forty-one

  “Can we take Piper for a walk on the beach?” Max was out of breath from his jog back to the house. “Jake said we had to ask.”

  “Put her on a leash, and stay out of the water.”

  The screen door slapped behind him.

  “Don’t go past the point!”

  “Okay,” Max called over his shoulder.

  The kids had been out there for an hour and had Piper darting around, kicking up sand in their game of tag. What do you know, Jake did it.

  Meridith dried her hands, started the dishwasher, then turned to look out the window where Ben, near the waterline, was already strapping a leash onto Piper. And they were off.

  She’d known, had known since she’d met Jake’s eyes from the window upstairs, that God was going to work this out. She didn’t know how, only that He was. She felt it down to her bones. Still, she was afraid.

  She watched Piper dragging Ben down the beach and wished for that kind of bravery. If only she could shed her fears so easily. Maybe she needed a few sessions with Jake.

  She took a deep breath and slipped through the door into the mild evening. It was that time between daylight and nightfall when the sunset cast a golden glow over the world. She took the porch steps and worked her way down the flagstones.

  When she reached the beach steps, she saw Jake seated in the sand, elbows planted on raised knees. He stared into the darkening ocean, apparently lost in thought.

  Meridith took the steps and shuffled across the sand, well marked now with footprints and paw prints. The kids were two yards down, still walking. She turned her attention back to the broad shoulders, the hair waving like a black flag under the ocean breeze.

  Biting her lip, she moved forward. “This seat taken?”

  Jake turned, straightened, then his face relaxed. Almost a smile.

  “Saved it for you.”

  She lowered herself in the sand, not too close, and gathered her knees inside the circle of her arms. The kids had stopped a few houses down and were throwing driftwood into the water. Piper pulled on the leash, barking.

  “She wants in the water now,” Meridith said. “Apparently land is no longer enough.”

  Jake said nothing, but she felt his eyes on her as surely as she could feel the breeze caress her skin.

  Piper turned in a circle, chasing her tail, then barked up at Max, who threw the wood.

  Meridith turned a smile on Jake and got stuck there in the center of his eyes. She remembered the first time she’d seen him and thought him arrogant. Now when she looked in his eyes she saw confidence. Very appealing.

  He was studying her face. “Something’s different,” he said finally.

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  She shrugged and looked away. “I got some things squared away. Spiritual things.” She wondered how she’d changed outwardly. She only knew how she felt. More at peace, more loved. The rest, she just had to trust God for.

  Jake didn’t respond. He was looking out at the water again, and she realized this wasn’t going the way she’d expected. He wasn’t pressuring her, even asking her . . . maybe he didn’t want her anymore. Maybe time had given him perspective. Maybe he was regretting what he’d said.

  The thought shook her confidence. She was fearful that he loved her, then fearful that he didn’t. Make up your mind, Meridith. Which do you want?

  No question there.

  But she didn’t know what to say. Maybe she should start at the beginning. She took a deep breath, letting the fresh air expand her lungs, and started.

  “You know my dad left when I was young. But I never told you that my mother had bipolar disease. You know what that is?”
>
  “Yeah.”

  “Things were pretty crazy around my house. I never knew what to expect. Her moods swung erratically from severe depression to mania. I never knew which mom I’d get when I walked in the door after school, or even if she’d be there. Bills didn’t get paid, collectors called. She was either not there mentally or so there it was frightening.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I learned to cope. However, some of the coping skills turned out to be the unhealthy variety.” She smiled at him, then looked away quickly before she lost her nerve. “I learned to live by structure so I know what to expect. I control everything around me to maintain some level of stability. I put up walls to keep people from hurting me. Walls I’ve never taken down, not for anyone.”

  “If you’re trying to scare me away, it’s not working.” His words started an ache behind her eyes. Was that what she was trying to do? Even now? Scare him away? Self-sabotage?

  He curled a finger under her chin and turned her toward him.

  His eyes said so much. That all those things, all her faults didn’t matter. That he loved her enough to walk beside her as she worked through them. That he saw beyond her flaws to the woman she was deep inside. That he wasn’t going to let go so easily.

  “I don’t know how this is going to turn out,” she whispered.

  “Life is uncertain.”

  “I might make things difficult. There’s a part of me that, no matter how much I want your love, I want to run from it at the same time.”

  “Say that again.”

  She swallowed around the knot in her throat. “I want to run from it.”

  “Other part.”

  She rewound her words. “How much I want your love?”

  His lips relaxed, curled slightly upward. “That’s the part.”

  The ache behind her eyes turned into a sharp sting, and he blurred in front of her. “I do want your love, but I’m afraid—”

  “Stop saying that.”

  A tear rolled down Meridith’s face, and she brushed it away.

  “If you guard your emotions, you’ll miss out on the best things of life—joy, excitement . . . love. Fear is just an opportunity to be courageous.”