Second Chance Reunion

by Sharon Hamilton

  He heard his phone ring and nearly fell out of bed looking for it. When the orderly brought him his tray of food, he asked them to find his phone. He had been sitting on it, but because of the painkillers in his system, his butt didn’t feel the vibration.

  It had been Martel!

  The food smelled divine, but Martel came first.

  “Oh God, Damon, they said you broke your hip. I wish I could just fly out there and be with you, sweetheart. Are you in any pain? How did you break your hip? Did anyone else get hurt too? Was it an accident?”

  “Wait a minute, Martel. I can’t think that fast right now. They’ve got me so high I’m having nightmares, seeing skeletons and little children with filed teeth. But the long and the short of it is I blew myself up.”

  He sensed she was confused as to what to say. But then she slowly let out the question, “How did you manage to do that?”

  “Well, Fredo showed me what to do. Our timing was off. I was in the process of being eaten by a dog, or maybe it was a bear or something. But I was pinned under this thing and that’s what saved my life. Seriously.”

  “Oh wow. You’re really out of it, Damon. So, you’re not in any pain, then?”

  “Not much. I’m about to have my first meal, though.” He lifted the white plastic lid. And it’s—mystery meat! Mashed potatoes and some peas and carrots. I have chocolate pudding for dessert.”

  She giggled. How he loved to hear her giggle.

  “Well, bon appetite! Maybe I should call back later?”

  “Can you come out? That would be great if you could. I haven’t seen you in so long.”

  “Damon, I was just out there not more than a week ago.”

  “Yeah, but that’s too long. You should just move out here, forget the school. None of this transition bullshit. I want to live with you, Martel. I don’t want you clear across the country. What made us think that was a good idea?”

  “But I always had this fantasy of getting married at the beach at sunset. Everyone being there. But I’m afraid we’ll have to scale back our plans a little.”

  “Oh? Something else happen?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now, why don’t you enjoy your mystery meat, and let’s figure it out. Maybe you could come out and stay with me a few months so I can say good-bye.”

  “Good-bye, to whom?”

  “Kaitlyn, the beach, the ocean, the vibe of it all.”

  “Martel, that’s nuts. You don’t say good-bye to oceans or beaches. Those are inanimate objects. And as for Kaitlyn, she can get on a plane and come visit, or you can go out there and visit. You’re not saying good-bye. You’re saying hello to San Diego, to me, to the Brotherhood here, to the new school and job I’m sure you’ll get. You have a lot to look forward to, but your life is here, with me. I don’t want to do this any other way.”

  He must have touched the hang-up button because when he waited for her answer, there wasn’t anyone there.

  Chapter 20

  Martel took the luxury of sleeping in late. At nearly ten o’clock she finally peeled herself out of bed and made it to the shower. The nausea in the mornings was getting worse and worse, and she knew it would continue until the third month, when miraculously she’d start to feel full of energy. Or at least that’s what had happened the first time.

  The pregnancy test came back positive. She didn’t want to tell Damon until they could meet in person, and right now that was looking not for a week or more. He had to learn how to walk up stairs, get in and out of a car by himself and how to maneuver with a cane as his protection.

  And he was in physical therapy three days a week. The progress he was making was very good, he’d told her. She knew how critical to his healing it was to continue that.

  He pressed her several times about the wedding plans, and she withheld that from him as well, figuring it would make more sense after she told him they were going to have another child. She didn’t like keeping secrets, but without their face-to-face meetings, it was better this way. And, if he wasn’t able to visit within the next two weeks, well then, she’d tell him. That was the agreement she’d made to herself.

  Her administrator let her know that the Gibbs had withdrawn Cora from the school. He quizzed her on what their thoughts might be in regard to filing a lawsuit and she told him the absolute truth: she knew nothing. They’d discussed her leaving early, and she offered, if that was what he wanted. But he didn’t seem to be pushing her in that direction, so she planned on going back to class on Monday. Her sub had been a student teacher under her two years ago, so she was able to keep up with the class progress.

  Once dressed, she made some non-caffeinated tea and was going to go sit out at the beach when she heard the mailman open the creaky box and deposit something. So, she picked up the several envelopes, sat on the couch overlooking the wide swath of beach and opened them one by one.

  There were a couple of bills, a bank statement, and a letter written by perhaps one of her students. Upon close examination, she discovered it had been postmarked from Palo Alto. All of a sudden, Martel’s hands began to shake, and her breathing became shallow.

  Ainsley had put a daisy sticker on the back flap of the brown envelope. Martel had not heard anything since that day when they’d met, but the more days that went by left her hopeful. She knew that if the decision had been made she wanted nothing to do with her or Damon, Mrs. Bergman would have called and stated it so.

  The flap gave way and Martel pulled out a letter on brown matching paper, along with a picture of Ainsley accepting an award for Most Valuable Player for her Jr. High school basketball team.

  She knew Damon would be delighted.

  Dear Ms. Hall,

  I wanted to apologize for my behavior when we met last month. I’ve talked a lot about it with my parents, and we agreed that I should perhaps make another effort to talk to you again. I really didn’t want to at first, but she suggested it when I kept bringing up our meeting. Something had bothered me about that meeting. I still don’t know why, but I found myself getting angrier and angrier with you. I’m not angry that you placed me with my parents, it was something else. I’m writing this letter because I didn’t want you to think you did something wrong.

  I have spring break coming up in two weeks, and our school will be closed for a week. I was wondering if I might come out to Florida with my mom and visit you. I’ve seen all these pictures about the beach, and it looks pretty. I’ve never been to Florida.

  Don’t feel like you have to say yes to this. I won’t be mad. I know you’ll be busy teaching, but it would be nice to see where you’re going to marry Damon, and maybe I could help with addressing the envelopes or something. If he came out to visit, maybe I could meet him, too.

  I’m making a wedding present for you guys. It isn’t much, but I hope you’ll like it.

  My mom wanted to know if there were any good motels nearby, not anything fancy, but maybe something within walking distance.

  And she says you can call her, if you want to meet again. I understand you are probably busy, so I won’t expect you’ll say yes, but just know that I enjoyed meeting you and would like to get to know you better.

  Your friend,

  Ainsley.

  By the time she got to the end, Martel had lost it. She was having a good, warm but very ugly cry again. She’d signed the letter “your friend” which touched her greatly. She imagined that Ainsley had struggled with how to close the letter, and that had come to mind after agonizing over it for some time. When she signed her name, she used daisies for the dotted “I” letter, and the “y” was followed by switchbacks with curlicues everywhere, even adding hearts and flowers.

  She checked her clock and discovered it was a little before eight in California. Ainsley would be on her way to school or at school soon. Maybe this would be a good time to talk to Lori Newberg.

  She dialed her number and got her voicemail.

  ‘Hey Lori, I just got Ainsley’s lovely letter and I was
delighted to hear she was interested in coming out to Florida for a visit. I would be most honored and delighted to put you up in my house. It’s very small, and not very fancy, but it’s right on the beach, and the price is right. I don’t have a second bedroom, but I have a very comfortable leather couch in the living room that makes into a sleeper. And you two are welcomed to use my bedroom if you want privacy.

  Hope you are doing well, and thanks so much for the letter. You can tell her it meant a lot to me. Hope you guys can come but let me know either way. Take care, Martel.’

  She’d agreed to meet with Aimee today, so she locked up the house, and walked down the beach until she came to their backyard with the gazebo and hot tub facing the gulf. Knocking on the kitchen door, she heard pleasant music from the inside.

  “Hey Martel!” Aimee was dressed in an old shirt of Andy’s which was smudged with paint. She slipped it off and threw it over a chair, inviting her inside. Their large and friendly Golden Retriever tried to pry her way between the two of them. She sat on Martel’s feet, begging for pets.

  “This is Sandy. She has to be involved in everything now. Notice she helps me paint,” Aimee pointed out several places where the dog had gotten too close to a freshly painted off-white surface.

  “So, what are you painting now? Which room?”

  “One of the bedrooms upstairs. We’re trying to finish it as a guest room, but double as an office. I’ve decided to start trying my hand at writing.”

  “Really?”

  “Come, see.” She held Sandy’s collar while she closed the door behind them. Martel followed her upstairs. The room had access to the balcony overlooking the gulf. On two sides of the room were built in bookshelves, which Aimee had just finished painting. There was an old oak desk facing out, taking up space on the stationary side of the sliding glass door. In the middle of the desk was a blue IBM Selectric typewriter.

  “This belonged to Hank Borges, the science fiction writer who wrote many books right here in this very house, except he used the dining room as his office. This is where he and Carmen fell in love. And guess what, she wrote books after his death.”

  “Carmen is the lady who left the house to you?”

  “Not exactly. I bought it but yes, she left her estate to me. So, in a way I got the house money back. It feels like a never-ending circle, doesn’t it?”

  “Something. Definitely something. Is it in the air, or is it the house? Or maybe a ghost!”

  “I know. I felt it the first time I came in here. I don’t think it’s a ghost. It’s just a very creative vortex or something. I don’t want to study it too much for fear of scaring it away.”

  “It is a spirit then, that’s how you see it?” Martel asked.

  “No, I don’t see it, I feel it. I sit down at the typewriter, feel the keys underneath my fingers and something just connects. It’s almost like I can’t stop.”

  “What are you writing?”

  “Novels about falling in love at the beach. You know, the fairy tale everyone wants but no one really gets?”

  “Some people do, I think.” Martel was recalling the conversation she’d had with herself about Kaitlyn.

  “Anyway, it’s very healing here. Something about these four walls is healing to me. I feel like creating. I’ve heard about houses like this. There are several in England, famous writers and poets lived in them, passed them down from one to another, a solid chain of creativity through hundreds of years. I think I’ve found one here. It was dormant, and then one day, Carmen stepped inside, and it transformed Hank’s life.”

  Martel watched Aimee, grinning.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “No, I do. I’ve just never experienced it before. I’m happy for you.”

  “Oh, all right. I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

  “Not at all.”

  Sandy sat next to where Martel was standing, leaning into her. She brushed the top of the golden dog’s head. The room was lit from the large window, but seemed to have another glow all its own, too.”

  “You like this room, Sandy?” she said to the dog, who looked back adoringly at her.

  “She likes to sit by the window and watch people walk on the beach. When she’s left alone, she always comes here.”

  They went downstairs, where Aimee had prepared a green salad for both of them. “You want some coffee, or wine?” she asked.

  “No thanks. Water would be great.”

  “So, how are the wedding plans coming. You reserved the gazebo at Sunset Beach?”

  “I did. But something’s come up and I think I’m going to let it go.”

  “Oh dear. What happened?”

  “I’m not at liberty to talk about it, but I’ve run into some extra expenses, and me without a job for next year, I just thought it would be good to cut back. Besides, Damon hasn’t really been sending out the invitations, so it’s kind of stupid to spend a lot of money on a party where not many people will come.”

  “You could use it to help purchase something back in Coronado when you move there.”

  “Exactly. I just re-thought the expense of it.” She didn’t want to lie to her friend, but there was no safe way of letting her know.

  “I offered to let you use this house for your reception. I don’t see why you couldn’t get married out here at the beach and have the reception here. We did it. It was perfect. The offer still stands.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. I’ll even have it catered. Let me do that for the two of you.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that. That’s way over the top.”

  “Nonsense. If you have it catered, it won’t drive you crazy with all the work. They come in, prepare, then clean up and you’re left with a beautiful house with wonderful memories. You don’t have to spend a week to clean up after, either. Seriously, it’s the only way to go.”

  “Well then, I accept. On one condition.”

  “Sure, what?”

  “I want Damon’s approval first.”

  “He’s coming out here?”

  “He is. In about two weeks.” She didn’t want to discuss Ainsley’s possible visit yet so left it at that.

  “I’m so excited. I hope he likes it.”

  Martel left Aimee’s house feeling very light and hopeful. On the way back to her place, she got a call from her attorney.

  “Our private investigator has come up with some past arrest records for Mrs. Gibbs father and two uncles. They all center around child sexual abuse. Unfortunately, it goes back generations. It’s heartbreaking. She probably grew up in it and was a victim herself.”

  “It fits the pattern, doesn’t it?” Martel said. “I feel so sorry for those kids in that family.

  “We have some choices, so I need to know. You could report your suspicions. Child Protective Services will have to investigate, but it could hit the paper and get lots of publicity.”

  “Is that what you’d do?”

  “I would.”

  “I think I want that too. Main thing is to get Cora some help. The whole family is going to need help.”

  “Always a possibility when it hits the paper, they’ll mention how the investigation started. I just want you to be okay with the extra scrutiny.”

  “I want what’s good for Cora. This isn’t for me. It’s for Cora.”

  “Brave little lady, if you ask me. I’ll email you some of the investigator’s findings, the arrest records, which are public record, but you have to know the dates and things to put them on the trail. There are several unsolved cases, too. We’d be helping the Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Let’s do it. I’m driving home right now. So does that solve the potential lawsuit with their attorney?”

  “Only a matter of days now. I think you’re almost in the clear.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve had in a long time. Thank you so much.”

  “Not quite out of the woods yet but nearing the clearing as we say. Don’t forget to mak
e that call.”

  “Nothing could tear me away from that mission. Thanks once again.”

  Her phone pinged and she read the text message from Damon.

  ‘Got approval for early release and leave. When should I come?’

  She didn’t have to think more than five seconds. She texted him back, ‘How about tomorrow?’

  Chapter 21

  Two Weeks Later

  Damon changed his clothes three times before they left for the Tampa Airport, each time fussing with his balance, using the cane he’d been asked to help support his new hip.

  “You’re fine. Don’t keep doing that, Damon. She’s not going to notice any of this,” Martel insisted. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  He’d started with kakis, then some long Chinos, the relaxed fit jeans. His canvas slip-ons would go with either of these. He opted for a clean white button-down long-sleeved shirt. While Martel put away the two pairs of pants he didn’t wear, he sorted through the three jackets he had, deciding on the dark grey one.

  “Come on. Honestly, Damon, you’re worse than any of my girlfriends ever were. As long as you smell good and don’t look all wild and scary, she’s going to like you just fine.”

  “Do I smell good? Tell me honestly.”

  She approached, delicately pulled his shirt toward her, her forefinger running across his lower lip, leaned into him and kissed him. It was natural to wrap his arms around her, pull her into his chest and feel all the wonderful ways she filled all the vacant and painful parts of him. How could he have ever let her go, he wondered. What a complete idiot, to have missed all those years. But she was here now, and he was going to make sure she never got away again.

  His body responded with the delicious slow arousal that always had been there, from the first time he’d ever kissed her. With the way she needed him, showing him by tugging on the top button of his shirt, or the way her fingers traced the arch of his ear, or the satisfied look on her sweet face when she shattered beneath him, Martel always brought her A game. The more he spent time with her the more he couldn’t live without her.