“That sounds illegal.”
“It probably was, but my grandfather knew the right people in the government, so he got away with it. And while that made things immeasurably more difficult for the neighbor, the neighbor’s property manager was something of a genius. It was also common knowledge that he was interested in my mother. So my grandfather eventually made the property manager an offer he couldn’t refuse—an ownership stake in our farm and daily proximity to my mother—and he came to work for us. His name was Rodney.”
“The man who became your stepfather.”
Tru nodded. “After he came on, our tobacco yield doubled almost immediately. At the same time, when the neighbor’s farm began to fail, my grandfather offered the neighbor a loan when no one else would. It only postponed the inevitable, and in the end, my grandfather foreclosed, which meant he got all the property for next to nothing. He then diverted the water back to its original flow pattern, making him even richer than he already was. All of that took a few years, and in the meantime, my mother fell for Rodney’s charms. They got married and had twins—Allen and Alex, my half brothers. Everything had worked out just the way my grandfather and Rodney had planned…but not long after that, our family compound went up in flames. I jumped out of a second-story window, and Rodney rescued the twins, but my mother never made it out.”
He heard her inhale. “Your mom died in a fire?”
“The investigators suspected arson.”
“The neighbor,” she said.
“Those were the rumors. I didn’t hear them until a few years later, but I think my grandfather and Rodney knew, and they felt guilty about what happened. After all, they may well have been indirectly responsible for my mother’s death. After that, it was like a hush fell over her memory, and neither Rodney nor my grandfather seemed to want anything to do with me, so I started to go my own way.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that was. It must have been an incredibly sad and lonely time for you.”
“It was.”
“And the neighbor got away with it?”
Tru stopped to pick up a seashell, a partially broken conch he examined before tossing it aside.
“The neighbor died in a house fire a year after my mother died. At the time, he was living in a shack in Harare, completely destitute. But I didn’t find out about that until years later. My grandfather mentioned it in passing one night when he’d been drinking. He said the man got what he deserved. By then, I was already guiding.”
Glancing at Hope, he watched her put the pieces together.
“Did anyone ever suspect your grandfather?”
“I’m sure they did. But if you were white and wealthy in Rhodesia, justice could be purchased. Maybe not as much these days, but back then, it could. My grandfather died a free man. These days, Rodney and my half brothers run the farm, and I keep my distance from them as much as possible.”
He watched as Hope shook her head, trying to absorb it all.
“Wow,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a story like that…I can understand why you left. And why you didn’t tell me earlier. It’s a lot to think about.”
“It is,” he agreed.
“Are you certain the man you’re supposed to meet this weekend is your actual father?”
“No, but I think there’s a pretty good chance.” He told her about the letter and the photograph he’d received along with the plane tickets.
“Does the photo resemble your mom?”
“From what I can recall, but…I suppose I can’t be one hundred percent sure. All the photographs of her were lost in the fire, and I didn’t want to ask Rodney about it.”
She appraised him carefully, with new respect.
“You’ve had a hard life already.”
“In some ways.” He shrugged. “But I also have Andrew.”
“Did you ever think about having another child? When you were married?”
“Kim wanted more, but I ended up contracting measles, which left me sterile, so I couldn’t.”
“Was that a factor in the divorce?”
He shook his head. “No. We were just two different people. We probably shouldn’t have married in the first place, but she was pregnant, and I knew what it was like to grow up without a father. I didn’t want that for Andrew.”
“I know you said you don’t remember much about your mom, but is there anything you do remember?”
“I remember that she used to sit on the back veranda and draw. But the only reason I remember that is because I started to sketch, too, not long after she passed away.”
“You draw?”
“When I’m not playing the guitar.”
“Are your drawings any good?”
“Andrew likes them.”
“Do you have any here?”
“I started one this morning. There are others, too, in my sketchbook.”
“I’d like to see them. If you wouldn’t mind.”
By then, the pier was long behind them and they were drawing closer to both the cottage and the home where he was staying. Beside him, Hope had grown quiet, and he knew she was digesting everything he’d told her. It wasn’t like him to share so much; usually he volunteered little about his past, and he wondered what it was about tonight that had made him so voluble.
But deep down, he already knew that his reaction had everything to do with the woman walking beside him. As they reached the steps that led up to the cottage walkway, he realized that he’d wanted her to know who he really was, if only because he felt as though he already knew her.
* * *
After all he’d told her about his upbringing, it didn’t feel right to end the conversation so abruptly. She motioned toward the cottage. “Would you like to come up and have a glass of wine? It’s such a pretty night, and I was thinking of sitting on the deck for a little while.”
“A glass of wine sounds nice,” he said.
Hope led the way and when they reached the back deck, she pointed at a pair of rocking chairs near the window. “Is chardonnay okay? I opened a bottle earlier today.”
“Anything is fine.”
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said. What am I doing? she wondered as she went inside, leaving the door cracked. Never in her life had she invited a man up for a nightcap, and she hoped she wasn’t sending mixed signals or giving him the wrong impression. The thought of what he might be thinking left her feeling unusually light-headed.
Scottie had followed her into the house and was eager to greet her, tail wagging. She stooped over to pet him.
“It’s not that big of a deal, is it?” she whispered. “He knows I was just being neighborly, right? And it’s not like I invited him inside.”
Scottie stared at her with sleepy eyes.
“You’re not helping.”
She pulled two long-stemmed glasses from the cupboard and added wine, filling them both halfway. She thought about turning on the outdoor lights, but decided that would be too bright. Candles would be perfect, but that would definitely send the wrong message. Instead, she turned on the kitchen light, its diffused glow spilling onto the porch. Better.
Glasses in hand, she nudged the door open with her foot. Scottie dashed out ahead of her and raced to the gate, ready to head to the beach.
“Not now, Scottie. We’ll go tomorrow, okay?”
Scottie ignored her as usual while Hope approached the rockers. When she handed Tru his glass, their fingers brushed, sending a little shock up her arm.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” she murmured, still feeling the aftereffects of his touch.
Scottie continued to stand near the gate as she took her seat, as if to remind her of her real purpose in life. Hope was glad for the distraction.
“I told you we’ll go out tomorrow. Why don’t you lie down instead?”
Scottie stared up at her, his tail wagging expectantly. “I don’t think he understands me,” she said to Tru. “Either that, or he’s
trying to get me to change my mind.”
Tru smiled. “He’s a cute dog.”
“Except when he’s running off and getting hit by cars. Right, Scottie?”
His tail wagged harder at the sound of his name.
“I had a dog once,” Tru said. “He wasn’t around long, but he was good company while I had him.”
“What happened to him?”
“You probably don’t want to know.”
“Just tell me.”
“He was killed and eaten by a leopard. I found what was left of him in the tree branches.”
She stared at him. “You’re right. I didn’t want to know.”
“Different worlds.”
“You’re not kidding,” she responded with an amused shake of her head. For a long while, they merely sipped their wine, neither of them saying anything. A moth began to dance near the kitchen window; a windsock fluttered in the gentle breeze. Waves rolled ashore, the sound like shaken pebbles in a jar. Though he kept his gaze on the ocean, she had the sense that he was watching her as well. His eyes, she thought, seemed to notice everything.
“Will you miss it here?” he finally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“When your parents sell the cottage. I saw the sign out front when I was dropped off yesterday.”
Of course he did. “Yes, I’m going to miss it. I think everyone will miss being able to come here. It’s been in the family a long time, and I never once imagined that it wouldn’t be.”
“Why are your parents selling?”
As soon as he asked, she felt her worries resurface. “My dad is sick,” she said. “He has ALS. Do you know what that is?” When Tru shook his head, she explained, and added that there was only so much the government and insurance would cover. “They’re selling what they can, so they’ll have money to modify their house or pay for in-home care.”
She rotated her glass in her fingers before going on. “The worst part is the uncertainty…I’m scared for my mom. I don’t know what she’ll do without him. Right now, she seems to be pretending that nothing is wrong with my dad at all, but I worry that it’s only going to make it even worse for her later. My dad, on the other hand, seems at peace with the diagnosis, but maybe he’s just pretending, too, so that all of us will feel better about it. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one worrying.”
Tru said nothing. Instead, he leaned back in his rocker, studying her.
“You’re thinking about what I said,” Hope ventured.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“And?”
His voice was quiet. “I know it’s hard, but worrying doesn’t help them or you. Winston Churchill once described worry as a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind that, if encouraged, cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.”
She was impressed. “Churchill?”
“One of my grandfather’s heroes. He used to quote the man all the time. But Churchill made a good point.”
“Is that how you are with Andrew? Worry free?”
“You know by now I’m not.”
Despite herself, she laughed. “At least you’re honest about it.”
“Sometimes it’s easiest to be honest with strangers.”
She knew he was talking about her as much as he was about himself. Glancing past him, down the beach, she noticed that all the other homes were darkened, as though Sunset Beach were a ghost town. She took a sip of her wine, feeling a sense of peace coursing through her limbs and radiating outward like the glow of a lamp.
“I can see why you’re going to miss this place,” he said into the silence. “It’s quite peaceful.”
She felt her mind drift to the past. “Our family used to spend most of our summers here. When we were young, my sisters and I spent almost all of our time in the water. I learned to surf over there near the pier. I never got really good at it, but I was okay. I spent hours floating out there, waiting for good swell. And I saw some amazing things—sharks, dolphins, even a couple of whales. None of them were very close, but one time, when I was around twelve or so, I saw what I thought was a floating log, until it surfaced just a few feet away. I saw its face and whiskers and my whole body froze. I was too terrified to even scream because I didn’t know how long it had been there, or what it was. It looked like a hippopotamus, or maybe a walrus. But once I realized that it didn’t intend to hurt me, I just began to…watch it. I even paddled to keep up with it. In the end, I must have stayed out there for a couple of hours. It’s still one of the most amazing things ever to happen to me.”
“What was it?”
“It was a manatee. They’re much more common in Florida. Every now and then there are sightings off this coast, but I’ve never seen another one. My sister Robin still doesn’t believe me. She says I was making it up to get attention.”
Tru smiled. “I believe you. And I like that story.”
“I figured you might. Since it featured an animal. But there’s another really neat thing that you should see while you’re here. Before it rains.”
“What’s that?”
“You should visit Kindred Spirit tomorrow. It’s past the pier and on the next island, but you can walk there at low tide. When you see the American flag, start angling toward the dunes. You can’t miss it.”
“I’m still not sure what it is.”
“It’s better if it surprises you. You’ll know what to do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
She could tell by his expression that she’d aroused his curiosity. “I was planning to go fishing tomorrow. As long as I can find some bait, that is.”
“They’ll have bait at the pier shop, but you can do both,” she assured him. “I think low tide is around four in the afternoon.”
“I’ll think about it. What’s on your agenda tomorrow?”
“Hair and nails for the wedding. And I want to find a new pair of shoes. Girl stuff.”
He nodded before taking another sip of wine, and another simple calm descended. They rocked in easy synchronicity for a while, admiring the glorious night sky. But when she caught herself stifling a yawn, she knew it was time for him to go. By then, he’d finished his wine, and again, he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.
“I should probably head back,” he said. “It’s been a long day. Thank you for the wine.”
She knew it was the right thing, but nonetheless felt a faint stab of disappointment as well. “Thank you for dinner.”
He handed her his glass before making his way toward the gate. She left the glasses on the table and trailed behind him. At the gate, he paused and turned. She could almost feel the energy emanating from him, but when he spoke, his voice was soft.
“You’re an incredible woman, Hope,” he said. “And I trust that things will work out with you and Josh. He’s a lucky man.”
His words caught her off guard, but she knew he’d meant them in a kind way, without judgment or expectation.
“We’ll be fine, I’m sure,” she said, as much to herself as to him.
Pulling open the gate, he started down the steps. Hope followed him, stopping at the halfway point. Crossing her arms, she watched as he reached the walkway and headed for the beach. When he was a quarter of the way there, he turned and waved. She waved back, and when he was a bit farther away, she finally retraced her steps to the deck. She grabbed the glasses and brought them to the sink before padding to the bedroom.
She undressed and stood before the mirror. Her first thought was that she really needed to lose a few pounds, but overall, she was content with her appearance. Of course, it would have been great to have the kind of lithe body that graced fitness magazines, but she just wasn’t built that way, and never had been. Even as a girl, she’d always found herself wishing that she were a few inches taller, or even as tall as either of her sisters.
And yet, as she stared at her reflection, she thought about the way that Tru had looked at her, his
interest in whatever she was saying, and the compliments he’d given her about her appearance. She missed basking in a man’s obvious attraction to her, without recognizing it as simply a prelude to sex. Even as she tried to sort through her feelings, she knew it was a dangerous way of thinking.
Turning from the mirror, she went to the bathroom and washed her face. After removing the elastic band she’d used for her ponytail, she ran a brush through her hair so it wouldn’t be knotted in the morning. Moving to her suitcase, she pulled out a pair of pajamas before hesitating. Tossing them back into her suitcase, she went to the closet and retrieved an extra blanket instead.
She hated being cold at night, and slipping naked beneath the covers, she closed her eyes, feeling sensual and strangely content.
Sunrise and Surprises
Tru ambled past Hope’s cottage the following morning, carrying the tackle box, with a fishing pole over his shoulder. He looked over, noting that the paint had begun to peel on a lot of the trim and some of the railings were rotting away, but thinking again that it suited him better than the house where he was staying. That one was too big and definitely too modern, and he still couldn’t figure out how to work the coffee machine. Even a single cup would have been nice, but he supposed it simply wasn’t meant to be.
It was an hour past dawn, and he wondered whether Hope was awake. In the morning glare, it was impossible to tell if any lights were on, but there was no sign of her on the deck. He thought about her boyfriend and shook his head, wondering what the man was thinking. Despite a life spent mostly in the bush, even Tru knew that the wedding of a close friend pretty much mandated attendance on the boyfriend’s part. It didn’t matter how well they were getting along, or even if they were temporarily on the outs, as she’d put it.
Despite himself, he found himself imagining how she looked in the morning before getting herself ready for the day. Even with hair askew and puffy eyes, she’d still be beautiful. Some things just couldn’t be hidden. When she smiled, there was a gentle light about her, and it was easy to get lost in that accent of hers. There was something soft and rolling to it, like a lullaby, and when she’d been recounting stories about Ellen or telling him about the manatee, he’d felt like he could have listened to her forever.
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