by Jenny Hale
As Jake drove down Beach Road, the only sound in the car was the hiss of his tires as they rolled through the sand on the surface of the road. Faith was dying to ask him about the car. In only three days, she’d found him to be very friendly, and he seemed to be quite open whenever they’d spoken; yet there was so much—clearly—about him that she didn’t know. A handyman with a Mercedes? Friends who owned yacht-sized sailboats? Was he involved in something illegal? She caught herself fiddling with her fingers as her mind spun, so she stilled them on her thighs. Jake looked over at her and flashed a smile, making her glad she’d flattened her fingers out on her shorts. It kept them steady.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and she felt the heat in her cheeks.
Faith swallowed, but there was no saliva left in her mouth so the gulp of air and dryness rolled down her throat slowly. She cleared it with a little cough. Scrambling for an answer to his question, she blurted, “How did you meet Rich?”
Oh! That was a terrible question! she scolded herself. What she really wanted to know was how the two men had met and become friends—they seemed to belong to completely different worlds. Now it looked like she might be interested in Rich, for goodness’ sake. She was not getting off to a good start. Casey would never have asked such a ridiculous question.
“We went to college together,” he said, thoughts behind his eyes, the skin between them puckered in confusion. “We’re in the same line of work.”
I know. Stupid, stupid question, she wanted to agree with his unspoken thoughts, but as what he said registered, more questions began to swim around in her mind. Same line of work?
“Rich is a handyman?” she asked, the thought tumbling out before she could rein it in.
Jake was quiet for just a moment. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a loud “Ha!” and threw his head back in laughter. His chest was still rising and falling with little bursts of amusement as he looked back at her, and she could see that affection again in his eyes. What had she said? What did he find so funny? The worry from this settled in her stomach, making her feel a little queasy. The very last thing she wanted to do was to insult him in any way.
His smile waned to a grin, and it was clear, his thoughts were elsewhere for a moment. “Why the interest in Rich?” he asked very directly.
“I wasn’t really asking about Rich,” she said. “I was wondering how you’d met someone who clearly has so much…” Oh, now she was going to look like some kind of golddigger. She was digging herself into a deeper hole. No wonder Casey was better at getting the guy. She would have never talked herself into such a situation as this.
Jake steered the car around a turn and then looked back at her. “What do you mean, ‘has so much’?”
“He has… sailboats,” she said, “and… is this car his?”
More laughing. Lots of laughing… What had she said now? Faith reached over and turned the vent so that the air conditioning was blowing right on her face. Her cheeks were on fire with embarrassment.
Once he’d calmed down from his laughing fit, Jake, still smiling, said, “I do carpentry on the side. It’s not my full time job. I do it because I love it. I’ve always done it with my dad. It makes me feel closer to him. And the car and the boat are mine.”
“Yours?” Faith said, trying not to show her complete astonishment.
He smiled.
She struggled to put a sentence together. “Why didn’t you tell us?” she asked, wondering why he hadn’t pointed that fact out when they’d taken the boat ride.
He laughed again. “What did you want me to say—hello, I’m Jake Buchanan. I own a boat and a car,” he teased. “Should I list all my other assets?” He pulled in to the parking lot and turned off the engine. The whole journey had passed and she hadn’t even noticed. Her mind still reeling from this bit of information—he’d given her a lot to digest at once—Faith looked out at the massive black and white striped lighthouse, that she’d only ever seen from the road, as Jake got out. She was grateful they were there so she could change the conversation.
He opened her car door and stepped to the side as she swung her legs around. She hopped out, shut the door, and followed Jake to the long, wooden walkway heading to the lighthouse. The walk was made of flat boards, laid side to side, like a low-lying pier, and it stretched for ages. The tall sea grass danced in the wind on either side of it, and, despite it being after five o’clock, the sun’s heat was warm on her arms and shoulders as she walked beside him toward the gorgeous structure at the edge of the sea.
The lighthouse looked as though it were all white with a wide belt of black twisting around it like a perfectly horizontal stripe of a candy cane. The black, iron top of it, housing the large glass optic section for the lantern, was so ornamented that it looked as though it were a giant crown. The lantern, housed in a cylinder of glass, sparkled in the sunlight. The whole thing sat on the most gorgeous piece of property—a large expanse of lush green giving way to pond-sized puddles. Each puddle, when seen from this distance, looked like a stepping stone to the sea.
“There’s so much space here,” Jake said, looking out at the vast stretch of grass that led to the shoreline. “You know what I see when I look at it?”
She shook her head, still taking it all in.
“I see hope and possibilities. All this undeveloped, beautiful land.”
Faith knew just what he meant. So much retail space had eaten up the shoreline that this unspoiled landscape was a refreshing change. Looking out at it, it gave her hope too—hope that there would always be some place, some retreat for her when things got crazy in life. She promised herself right then that she’d come back to this place, find a small but perfect spot for solitude and healing, and just soak it in. It really was a perfect view.
“I love the outdoors,” she said.
“Me too. At the house where I grew up, it was very wooded. I used to run from back yard to back yard. I’d pretend I was an explorer in the forest.”
“Sounds like me,” she said with a smile. “I had a creek by my house and a lot of woods. I used to play outside all the time.” She followed him along the walk, careful to step over a board that had warped and was jutting out slightly. Things were going more smoothly now; the last thing she wanted was to trip. “Casey and I used to catch lightning bugs.”
“So did I!” he said, his voice rising slightly in excitement.
“Did you try to keep them?” she asked.
“I put them in a mason jar. I poked holes in the metal top. I’d keep them in there for about fifteen minutes before I felt sorry for them and let them go. Every time, I swore I was going to keep them as pets.”
“That’s a very keen observation for a child, to realize they needed to be released.”
“I looked out at the woods and I thought how much better it was to run in them than to be shut up in my room, so they needed to have the same freedom. Did you keep yours?”
“No. I didn’t think as much about it as you did, but I always let them go.”
“Ah,” he smiled, sending a current of happiness through her chest. “Maybe it’s because you already knew. You didn’t have to think about it.”
Faith and Jake had let their lightning bugs go, only holding them close to inspect their beauty; their real beauty was when they were out in the world. Perhaps that was how Nan felt about her family. She enjoyed seeing them out instead of shut up in the confines of the house. It hit her at that moment that she hadn’t shared much of her social life with Nan in a long time.
Perhaps Nan didn’t realize how much she’d changed. Was that why she’d brought them all the way to the Outer Banks for her birthday? Was that why she had all those photos—photos of life being lived? Was Nan hoping to remind them all that they needed to enjoy their lives? No one ever takes photos while sitting at a desk working. Those aren’t the memories that matter. That wasn’t living. As she walked next to Jake, the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, the clean, spicy smell of him waftin
g around her in the breeze, she realized how much of a memory she was making. And this was a memory that mattered.
“So, what do you like to do when you aren’t working or building things? What do you do to relax?” she asked, the question coming easily this time. His hand was swinging right next to hers, and she wondered what it would feel like to be able to hold it casually. She wished she could fast forward to a time when she knew him well enough to feel completely at ease around him. He had such a gentle, caring way about him, despite his strong exterior. Would his romantic touch be as light as his words were sometimes?
“I’m up for anything,” he said.
“What about if it’s raining and you can’t go out. What do you do?”
He grinned a crooked grin and shook his head. “You probably wouldn’t believe me.”
“Why? Do you give yourself facials or something?” she giggled at the thought.
“Ha! No. Definitely not.” He chuckled some more and allowed her to hop off the walkway first. On the grounds of the lighthouse was an old farmhouse—white wooden siding with a long, country porch. It looked as though it might be a museum. “I sit in my favorite chair and read.”
There was something so delicious about thinking of this man beside her, a book in his hands, the quiet hum of the fan or the crackling of a fire the only sound as he devoured the words on the page. What he hadn’t realized was that it was the perfect answer. Faith would love nothing more than to sit and read beside him.
“Why is that so hard to believe?” she asked.
“I suppose it is believable. It’s just not very exciting.”
“Says who?”
“My ex-wife, for one,” he said with another huff of laughter, but his face straightened out quickly and Faith could sense the wound that was still there. “Good grief. I’m out of practice.”
“What do you mean?”
“First time I take a lady out, and I’m mentioning my ex. Sorry.”
His admission warmed her. “It’s okay.”
“I’m trying not to mess this up,” he said in a lighthearted way, but she could feel a seriousness to his words. It was clear that he was trying to make a good impression, meaning that taking her out was a big deal to him. This fact made her so happy.
“I love to read, too,” she said in an effort to calm his worry. “It’s my favorite thing to do.”
He smiled at what she’d said, but there was more behind his smile—a wonder, an interest. He looked a little unsure, which was odd, since he’d been so confident with her family.
“Really?” he asked. Faith sensed that he thought she was just trying to make him feel better, and she was taken with his vulnerability.
“When I was young, I always had a book in my hands. I still do whenever I get a chance, although, with my job, I’ve been reading a lot of children’s books lately.”
“I always liked the classics, and my dad said that I was an old soul.”
“What was your favorite book?”
“A newer classic, actually. Hemingway. Old Man and the Sea. I read it so many times that the binding broke and all the pages were loose inside.”
She felt the coincidence in her chest and couldn’t believe that it was possible that as kids, the two of them could’ve been in the same town in the Outer Banks with their noses in a book. “Hemingway? Didn’t he have a house in Key West?”
“Yes, I think he did. That’s impressive knowledge!”
“I only know because I was obsessed with Key West as a child. I read all of Robert Frost, and he spent time there as well. I wanted so badly to go there.”
“Did you ever go?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She took in a breath, relishing the smell of the beach. “I don’t know; work commitments, family stuff, I suppose. But deep down, I think I just didn’t want to go alone. I’d rather wait until I have someone to go with.”
He looked at her for a long time, and she wondered what was going through his mind. It was as if she’d hit a nerve or something. She could sense a little disappointment, maybe? It was hard to tell. “If you wait for things like that,” he said gently, “you’ll end up having never gone.”
It occurred to Faith then that this strong, handsome man, who seemed to have it all together, who had so much free time he could work every day doing something he loved, who had enough money to buy enormous sailboats and luxury cars—that with everything he could ever want, he might be missing something. Did he crave the intimacy of a family? Did he want someone to share his life with? Or were those just Faith’s wishes coming through?
Reaching the lighthouse, Jake paid the entrance fee and they walked inside. Spiraling upward as far as she could see was a mesh, metal staircase. Looking up, the climb seemed daunting as she considered the sandals she was wearing. She’d tried to look pretty, choosing her strappy ones with a slight heel. Now, she wished she had her flip-flops.
“Ladies first.” Jake gestured toward the first step. Trying not to think about the journey upward, she put her foot on the step and started the climb to the top. Their feet made quiet, clattering sounds as they walked up.
“In my dad’s house, there was a crawl space underneath our stairs for storage. My dad cleared it out and made it into a little clubhouse for me. I used to sit in there and read. The only light was my battery-operated book light. I could hear the sound of feet on the steps whenever someone went up. I haven’t thought of that in years, but our footsteps reminded me of it.”
She looked back at him, wishing they could stop right there on the stairs and talk some more despite the fact that it wasn’t the most ideal place to stop. She didn’t care. She could be anywhere and talk to him. “You did a lot with your dad, it seems,” she said, taking another step.
“Well, growing up, it was just the two of us.”
She didn’t want to pry, but she wanted to find out everything about Jake. He was like no one else she’d gone on a date with before. He was open, genuine, no nonsense. It was clear that he was just himself. She wanted to know how that little boy, who’d crawled under the stairs as a kid, had grown up to be a wealthy businessman who still did carpentry on the side. What happened in all those years to make him the man who was climbing those stairs with her now? She wanted to know all the things his father had seen as he’d grown up. And she wanted to meet him—the man who’d taught Jake how to be this wonderful, sweet person. “I only ask,” she said, “because it was just me, Casey and my mom. My dad left when we were little.”
“Ah. Well, my mom passed away when I was young.”
“I’m so sorry, Jake.” His loss made her unexpectedly sad.
“It’s okay. I have foggy memories of her—like dreams. I remember her kissing my forehead before bed, and I remember her singing me to sleep. The rest of my memories—very good ones—are of my dad.”
His words echoed in the hollow space of the lighthouse, but they were the only ones there, so no one heard them.
She stopped and turned around, and he almost bumped into her. His hands were on the railing on either side of her. If he let go, they were close enough that he could put his arms around her. “Thank you for telling me that,” she said, seeing him in a new light.
He was eye level, being a step below her, and she could see contemplation on his face. His eyes roamed hers for a moment, as if he, too, had only really seen her for the first time in that moment. The silence was thick around them. She didn’t know how to respond to whatever it was zinging between her and this wonderful stranger. The way he was looking at her, it was as if he were going to do something, say something—she wasn’t sure.
“It was nothing at all to tell you that,” he said quietly, his eyes still intently looking into hers. He pulled in with every word and every look, closer and closer. His face was so near that she could feel his breath, and she swallowed to keep composure. He leaned forward and smiled, just before his lips met hers.
His hands were on her waist, his fingers
unstill. She grabbed the railing to keep herself from falling, the feel of his lips making her dizzy. The warmth of his breath as it mixed with hers, the softness of his touch, it was different than anything she’d experienced before. She didn’t want to open her eyes or stop the movement of her lips because that would mean it was over, and she didn’t want it to end. When she was finally forced into the reality of the moment, and he’d pulled back gently, she opened her eyes to find him smiling.
“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help myself.” He grinned at her, affection showing on his face.
She smiled back at him as he motioned for her to resume heading up the staircase. She had to work to get her legs to move, her brain completely overloaded by the sensation of that kiss.
“I can’t wait to show you this.”
They’d finally reached the top and the heat from the moment between them and inside the lighthouse had made her feel warm despite her summer clothing. It took all her concentration to keep her mind from reliving that kiss. She needed to get outside into the fresh air.
She walked out onto the circular landing that wrapped around the glass casing for the lantern, and the relentless ocean breeze cooled her skin. She was taken by how large the lantern itself was, but it didn’t hold her attention. What nearly took her breath away was the view. She could see nothing but marsh grass and blue ocean as far as her vision could travel. The lighthouse had seemed so big and grand, but compared to the Atlantic it was a tiny thing. She put her hands on the railing, and she could feel Jake beside her as he looked out at the same view. Sharing it with him made it perfect.
“Sit down here,” he said, dropping down onto the mesh floor of the overlook. He put his legs between the railings. They barely fit, his feet dangling in midair what seemed like miles above the ground below. Faith followed suit, and, as she looked at her own feet as they swung in the air, the sight made her dizzy. They were so small compared to everything around them.
He pulled a penny from his pocket. “Make a wish.”
She had so many wishes: she wished that she and Casey could be closer, she wished that Nan would be around another twenty years, she wished that she could spend every summer here, she wished that she could kiss Jake again.