by Lisa Jackson
Celia wheeled her father down the path, looking for a cool patch near the goldfish pond.
“Only May,” her father mused. “You’re going to have a hot summer.”
“So are you,” Celia said lightly, punching him on the shoulder. She found the perfect spot, a little grassy square of shade just a few feet from the pond. She set the brake on his wheelchair, then laid out a blanket for herself.
“How’s work?” he asked in between breaths.
It would be just downright selfish of her to tell her father that she hated her job. That lately, every time she stepped into the office building, she was hit with the strangest feeling. It was as if she were being slowly strangled. Spending all day at a desk, in front of a computer, underneath a bank of fluorescent lights. She made a lot of money investing other people’s money, but what was that worth when she spent most of her time at the office? She felt a little bit trapped, okay a lot trapped, in almost every aspect of her life. It was a far cry from the life she used to dream of having.
All through her teens she had been convinced she would be a beach girl forever. Boardwalks, bare feet, BBQs, and Jacob Vernon. Nothing made her happier, and she never imagined she would have to give any of them up. Especially Jacob. She knew for sure she would love him forever. And so far she had. She just didn’t get to keep him forever.
Wow. If anyone knew she was still secretly hung up on her very first love, she’d be assigned a small team of headshrinkers. She’d been thinking about Jacob and Hampton Beach a lot lately. Death’s approach had a way of making her take a close look at her life. And Celia hated what she saw. Who she’d become. In a way, she’d been so passive. As if she’d been waiting, just waiting for someone to come up to her, pull her out of her work chair, and say—“What the heck are you doing? This isn’t you. Get out of that suit, put on your swimsuit, and stop all this nonsense.” Of course, nobody did. She was the one who needed to take charge. But there were too many people depending on her income. Her father had taken care of her when it counted, and she was more than happy to return the favor. Nothing was more important, absolutely nothing. And she certainly wasn’t going to burden him with any of it. “It’s fine. Busy as usual.”
“Busy, huh? I suppose it would be. All those rich twats expect you to be at their beck and call.”
“Dad.” Celia looked around, relieved to see that the only other resident in earshot was Todd Buckley, and he was fast asleep in a lawn chair, head thrown back, mouth open, snore rumbling across the lawn. Pete lifted his arm, and Celia realized what he was doing too late. The acorn her father tried to toss into Todd’s mouth plunked Todd on the nose and then fell to the grass.
“Missed.”
“Dad. He could’ve choked.”
“That’s why I missed. Twat!” Pete yelled at the snoring man. Celia looked around again. Assistants were planted at various locations on the grounds, and Pete Jensen had been repeatedly warned about using the word twat. It had only started after the doctor upped his medication, although the side effect was hardly listed on the bottle.
“I’m not even remotely thinking of the female anatomy—I just like the word.”
“Other people find it very offensive.”
“I can’t walk. I can hardly breathe. I’m dying. No twat around here is going to stop me from using the word twat!”
“They can kick you out.”
“Good.” Pete started to cough. They both knew there was nowhere else for him to go. To Celia’s relief, he didn’t want to live with her. For him, it was a matter of pride. He’d taken care of his little girl his whole life. He didn’t want her to bathe him, feed him, remember him this way, and frankly, she didn’t either. But she was willing to spend top dollar so he could make the best of the worst situation. And, because of investment banking, like it or not, she was technically one of the rich that her father liked to ridicule. “How’s your mother?”
Drinking again. After ten years of abstinence. But by now her mother’s troubles were nobody’s problem but her own. Sometimes Celia got the feeling her father had never stopped loving her mother. It was a mystery to her. “I guess she’s fine.”
“You guess?”
“You know how she is. She’s the same.”
“Is she going to her meetings?”
“I don’t ask.” That was true, too.
“How’s Ben?”
“You hate Ben.”
“But you don’t. Right?”
Ben. Attractive. Dependable. A fellow investment banker. He wanted a family. He wanted her. What was there to hate? It wasn’t his fault he didn’t send a zap of electricity running through her when their eyes met. It was childish to expect it. “Of course I don’t.”
“So if you like him, then I’m going to ask about him.”
“He’s—”
“Fine,” her father finished for her. “You think you’re fooling me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not happy.”
“Happiness is overrated.”
“You used to be happy.”
“So did you.” Hampton Beach. She’d give anything to have one of those good old days back. Before everything hit the fan, of course. Celia reached up and grasped the handrail of her father’s chair. “I’m sorry. But some days I don’t want to talk about work, or Mom, or Ben. I just want to be with you.” Her father reached his hand over the side of the chair, and Celia grasped it. “How are you feeling?”
“Peachy. You bring what I asked?”
“I did.” Celia unzipped the bag and removed a large pair of red flippers. “Why in the world did you want these?”
Pete grinned. “Stick ’em on my feet, would you?”
Celia knelt before him. “Socks on or off?”
“Off. I want to feel them on my toes.” Her father had been a scuba diver in his day. He and these flippers had plunged a lot of depths. Celia slipped the socks off, ignoring the sight of her father’s toenails—she’d have to ask the staff to clip them—and slid the flippers on his feet. He smiled. It was the first time he’d ever asked her for such a thing, and it was worrisome. He looked at the bag and nodded. Celia removed the coffee can. He took it, saw the brand, then threw his head back and roared with laughter. Celia tried to remain composed, but ended up laughing with him. He opened the lid.
“It’s empty,” Celia said. “Like you asked.”
“I know.” He stuck his face in it and inhaled. “I can still smell it though. Isn’t that something? To smell something that strongly long after it’s gone.”
“Never really thought about it.”
“You’ll probably still smell me long after I’m gone.”
“Dad.”
He put the lid back on and placed the can on his lap. Celia took the last two items out of the duffel bag. A red crayon and a paper bag. Despite her best efforts, tears began to well in her eyes as she handed them to him.
“Sassafras.”
“I know what you want with these. I remember.”
“Noggin like a steel trap,” her dad said, treating her to a proud wink. When I die, I’m going to write my Last Will and Testament on a paper bag, and I want my ashes to go in a coffee can.
Maxwell House or Folgers? Celia used to say without missing a beat.
Surprise me. As long as it’s caffeinated.
As if having the same memory, he held up the coffee can again, and the chuckling started all over. “It’s perfect,” he rasped.
Chock full o’Nuts
The cough shook him for a long time. When he settled down, tears were in his eyes too, although more than likely from the coughing fit. “I only have one regret,” he said, taking her hand.
“Smoking?”
“Two regrets.”
“I don’t want you to have any.”
Her father sat straighter. “Exactly,” he said slamming both hands onto his thighs. “And I don’t want you to have any either. But only one of us can do something about it now.”
&
nbsp; “Dad.” He was dropping too many hints that he thought the end was near. It was getting harder and harder to hold back tears.
“We should’ve stayed, Sassafras. But I didn’t want any of it to hurt you.”
“You mean you didn’t want her to hurt me,” Celia said. Just the thought of that woman, and Celia’s blood pressure began to rise. Elizabeth Tanner. The Wicked Witch of the Boardwalk.
“Now, now. I’m not carrying grudges. I’m just telling you that I’m sorry if you thought your old man was a coward for turning tail.”
Celia grabbed her father’s hands. “You’re the bravest man I know.” It was true too. Nobody would have ever thought Pete Jensen was cut out to be a father, let alone a single one. He had literally kept her together all those years when her mother fell into a bottle. If it weren’t for having a little girl, Pete Jensen would’ve taken off to scuba dive around the world. Celia knew this beyond a doubt. She used to find magazine articles tucked away in the RV. Gorgeous, underwater photographs of coral, and brightly colored fish, and fascinating sea creatures. Far-off tropical islands. Places he could’ve gone. Places he would’ve gone if he didn’t have children. Instead, he moved to New Hampshire and gave her the beach, and the boardwalk, and sand between her toes. Those summers with him were the only thing that got her through the winters with her mother. “My only regret is that you didn’t kick Mrs. Tanner to the curb on our way out.”
“I bet she’ll outlive us all,” Pete said with a chuckle.
“I don’t know how you can laugh about it. She’s evil personified.”
“Karma, darling. I believe in karma.”
“I don’t. She’s probably still harassing all the men of Hampton Beach.”
“She was a cougar, all right.” Pete chuckled again. He was probably imagining the thirty-something divorcée in her bikini. Tanned to the hilt. Blond hair piled on top of her head. Hitting on every male with a pulse. Pete Jensen’s true crime? Rejecting her.
“Sometimes you think you’re doing the right thing,” Pete said. “But you don’t know. You don’t know, Sassafras.”
“You did everything right, Dad. Everything.”
“Did I?”
“Those people didn’t give you a choice.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think that’s exactly what they gave me.”
“I don’t want you to be upset about anything. Do you hear me? You are a good man. You gave me a great life.”
“Thank you. That’s all I ever tried to do. Even though I made a lot of mistakes, that’s all I was trying to do.”
“I know that. And I’m so grateful.”
“I want you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“I can’t go back now,” Pete said. “But you can.”
Celia put her hand on his shoulder. “Without you?” she said. “Not a chance.”
“We should’ve stayed. I should’ve turned the RV around.”
“They made it impossible for us to stay.”
“But maybe if we had—you would be happier right now. Not always doing the safe thing.”
“You mean my job? Ben?”
“Yes. I mean your job. Ben. All of it. You know the last time I saw you happy? Really happy?”
“Dad—”
“With that Jacob boy.”
It was the first time her dad had ever brought him up. Celia’s heartstrings danced at the mention of him. Why, after all this time did she still react this way? You never forget your first love. How true. She wished she could. His body materialized before her. Tall, and muscular, and tan. Wavy dark hair and green eyes. Beautiful, beautiful man. His intense, quiet nature. Jacob had such a sensitive side. One he had to hide from his twin or risk being mercilessly ridiculed. Still, he stood up to his brother. Despite Chris’s out and out campaign to tear them apart, Jacob had continued to love her. Twenty years later and there were still some memories she dusted off and let shine. Snapshots in time. The simple things.
Jacob squinting at her in the sunlight. Wrapping his arms around her. Crushing his mouth over hers after years of shyness. God, he was such a good kisser. The best she’d ever had. How sad was that? Holding her hand at the top of the Ferris wheel. Jacob Have I Loved. “That was a long time ago. I was just a kid.”
“You were a young woman. And that boy was so in love with you he couldn’t see straight. I thought for sure you’d put up a fight when I said we were leaving. And there was something else I should have—”
“Dad. Stop. We didn’t have a choice.” She could tell he was getting way too worked up. She put her hand over her father’s.
He nodded, paused for a while to catch his breath, then spoke again. “I half expected him to chase the RV down on our way out of town.”
So did she. She was truly stunned when Jacob didn’t come after her. Chris must have told him they were leaving. “Well, he didn’t now. Did he?”
“That’s my true regret. What if because of me—you missed out on the love of your life?”
“He was my first love.” That was the truth. No matter what really happened on the beach that night, Jacob was the one she loved. “Doesn’t mean he was the love of my life.”
“You look me in the eye and say that.” Celia looked at her father, then looked away. “That’s what I thought,” Pete said. “That’s what I thought.”
She had loved him, fiercely. But it wasn’t her father’s fault it didn’t work out. If he knew what had really happened, he’d pop out of his wheelchair and hike to Hampton Beach just to kick a couple of twin asses. Celia let herself indulge in the fantasy for a moment, then tried to calm herself in the ripples of the pond. “It’s not like you ever ended up with a great love, either,” she said quietly.
“You were my great love, Sassafras.” This time Celia didn’t even try and stop the tears. When she was a teenager and would cry, her father had been totally out of his depths. He usually just bought her ice cream. This time, Pete Jensen placed his hand on her knee. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Life promises the pursuit, Dad. Not the result.”
They watched the goldfish dart back and forth in the pond, gazed out at the gardens, chatted about the weather. Thirty minutes later Celia wheeled him back like she’d been doing every day for the past year. She kissed him, and hugged him, just like normal. But as she started to leave, his hand darted out and grabbed hers. She stood, once again, fighting back the tears with every ounce of her being.
“I’m so proud of you. You know that, kiddo, right?”
“I know.” This time it was her voice that was a mere rasp.
“I’m sorry you basically grew up without a mother.”
This was the first time he’d ever admitted this, and Celia felt the lump in her throat grow. “I didn’t need one. I had you.”
“No. I loved you like daylight, but you turned out so good because you’re special. So special even your mother and I couldn’t mess you up.”
“I was always proud to have you as my dad.”
“I didn’t take that ring, Sassy.”
Celia knelt before her father and stared at him until he looked at her. For a split second she saw a little boy looking out of the eyes of a man. She’d never realized how deeply the accusation had hurt him. He always seemed so tough. At that moment, she hated Elizabeth Tanner with an all-consuming rage. “I never thought for a single second that you took that ring. Not. One. Single. Second.”
An image of the ring rose to mind. A two-carat princess-cut diamond. It belonged to Chris and Jacob. Left to them by the mother they couldn’t remember. The twins were only one and a half years old when Angela Vernon walked out of their beach cottage with a yellow gym bag over her shoulder and never came back. She told her husband she was going out to get the boys mac and cheese. Harry Vernon spent years kicking himself for not realizing the twins were too young to eat mac and cheese, not to mention who goes to the grocery store with a yellow gym bag? As if knowing those things, he could
have stopped her. Supposedly she’d left the ring on the kitchen table with a note: Give to the boys when they’re older. That was it. Not, I’m sorry. Or—Tell them it’s not their fault, or I will always love them.
As if all two little boys needed was a princess-cut diamond ring in place of their mother. How could she have been so cruel and selfish?
Celia had felt a fierce bond with Chris and Jacob over their mother troubles. After all, she had a few of her own. Celia was the one person who truly understood how much that ring meant to them. A little piece of their mother. And she knew their secret thoughts. Who would leave something so valuable unless she were planning on coming back?
The day the ring went missing, Pete Jensen had stopped by the Vernon cottage to pick up some tools. Elizabeth Tanner had swooped in like a predatory hawk and accused Pete of stealing the ring. She had formed an impromptu Neighborhood Watch group, and by the time she was done, Pete Jensen was history. Nobody wanted to hire a handyman suspected of stealing diamonds from motherless twins.
Jacob Have I Loved....
After five years of trying to fit in, Pete Jensen and his daughter Celia had left town in the dead of night, the same way they’d come in. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes at night, Celia could still hear the crunch of the gravel under the wheels as they pulled out of the mobile home park, and she could feel the cool glass on her palms, which were planted squarely on the rear window, as she stared at Jacob’s cottage, silently pleading with him to come running after them.
Then again, soon after they left and landed in Boston, Pete Jensen had gotten a job with a signing bonus that paid for the first year of Celia’s college. Maybe, on some level, some things were just meant to be. No matter what or who you had to leave behind.