The Mailbox

by Marybeth Whalen

  She got that look on her face that told him she didn’t intend to play along. “Campbell,” she said, all business, “don’t go using that old charm of yours on me right now. Go get your things, and let’s get on the road.”

  He nodded his head and trotted obediently inside like a nine-year-old. As he walked inside, he inhaled that familiar scent of home, wishing he could plop down on the porch swing with a glass of something cold for a while. He took the house in with fresh eyes; knowing he wouldn’t be back for several days made him want to linger even though he couldn’t. He threw clothes into a duffel bag, not paying attention to whether the clothes matched or even how many pairs of underwear he included. He had no idea how long he would be gone.

  His mom sat waiting on the porch for him in the same spot, staring past the other houses toward the inlet. Campbell wondered if she was remembering when his father used to fish over there. Once, Campbell had tried to take Nikki to the inlet and fish with her, but she wasn’t into it. She cried when they caught one and begged him to let it go. For the rest of the day she talked about how the hook must have hurt the poor fishy.

  His mom lumbered into the truck cab and sat beside him. He didn’t even try to talk her out of coming along—he knew there wouldn’t be a discussion. As he turned the key in the ignition, he looked at her. “So … how’s Minerva?” he said with a wry smile. “I told her I’d tell you myself.”

  She looked back at him, unblinking. “Oh it wasn’t Minerva who told me, Campbell. Ellie called.”

  “Ellie?” he asked, lightly hitting the brakes in reflex. His ex-wife and his mother never spoke.

  She nodded. “She said that she thought I deserved to know.”

  “Well, you did—you do—deserve to know,” he said, looking back as he reversed out of the driveway. “I just … you know. I never expect Ellie to consider other people …” He paused to take his eyes off the road and look over at her with his most mischievous grin. “I just didn’t know she could have thoughts like decent people.”

  His mother smiled back, obviously reluctant but unable to help herself. Ellie had made both of their lives miserable at times. Campbell knew his mother didn’t expect kindness from Ellie any more than he did.

  They continued on their drive in silence. Campbell switched off the ’80s music for his mom’s sake. While he might have enjoyed driving for three hours with Van Halen and Journey blasting out the songs of his youth, his mom would not feel the same.

  About an hour into the ride, she finally spoke, interrupting the silence of his thoughts. “Ellie said she passed out at work. You don’t think she’s gotten involved in drugs, do you?”

  “No, no, Mom. Nothing like that. I’m sure it’s no big deal.” He refrained from admitting that he wasn’t informed enough about his daughter’s life to adequately answer that question. The image that flashed in his brain of his little girl in pigtails evoked his defensive response. He repeated it for emphasis. “Nothing like that.”

  “Then what, Campbell?” she answered. “A brain tumor? A seizure? ’Cause the way I see it, there’s not much good that could cause a healthy girl like Nikki to collapse.”

  He felt frustration mounting—misplaced frustration that he knew he shouldn’t aim at his mom. She asked legitimate questions. “I’m sure she’s just been working too much, that’s all. I’ll bet she’s just exhausted after such a hectic senior year and working that job. Ellie said all that activity was good for her, but maybe it’s not.” He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel like a judge with a gavel, rendering his verdict as final. “She’ll get some rest and be good as new,” he pronounced.

  He looked at his mom to see if she bought his confidence. “We should offer to let her come back to the beach with us,” she said. Campbell agreed. Ever since she hit her teens, Nikki had been coming to Sunset less and less. These days, almost never.

  “She’s just so busy,” Ellie had said to Campbell each time she called to say their daughter wouldn’t be coming to Sunset. Somehow, the news always left Campbell feeling like a wallflower at a dance.

  “I hope you’re right,” his mom replied to his overconfident statement, then turned to look out the window. Silence filled the car once again as he reached over to turn the radio back on, shutting out his own thoughts. He hoped he was right too.

  Chapter 4

  Sunset Beach

  Summer 1986

  At first, things seemed okay during Lindsey’s second summer at Sunset Beach. She had eaten at Campbell’s house almost every night, and they had fallen into a routine: the same warm hug at the end of his workday with his dad, a meal with his parents, and a walk on the beach. Twirling her hair around her index finger, she waited at Campbell’s house for him to get home from work as though it was just another night.

  Tonight was different, though, and they both knew it. When Campbell suggested a walk on the beach while his mom finished dinner, this time their normal conversation had turned into something else.

  “You must think I’m stupid, Campbell!” Lindsey yelled. They were alone on the beach so she felt free to shout and gesture wildly. Campbell was still wearing his work clothes: a pair of worn khakis and a polo shirt with the name of his father’s company, Forrester Surveying, embroidered where an alligator might normally sit. Lindsey was wearing cutoff denim shorts and a bathing-suit top. She had spent the day laying out at the beach and waiting for him to come home. While she waited, his mom taught her how to slice up vegetables for a salad. The two stood side by side at the sink, and Lindsey felt a feeling she could only describe as family. And now the night was going horribly wrong.

  “I know she came to see you at work today. She called your house last night when I was there. I haven’t said anything until now, but I have had it with this girl. Ellie? Is that her name?”

  Campbell nodded soberly and sat on the sand. “Lindsey, I promise I don’t like her. She annoys me. She shows up all the time, and she can’t seem to take the hint that I am not into her.” He reached up and took Lindsey’s hand, pulling her onto the sand beside him. “I’m into you,” he said with a smile.

  “Then why is she throwing herself at you?” Lindsey was undeterred. “Does she have no shame?”

  “Baby, I don’t know. She’s crazy. Everyone at school knows it.”

  “Yeah, well,” Lindsey scoffed, “crazy about you. Campbell, you forget that I know other people who know her. Your friend Billy warned me about her. And Scott said she’s—” Lindsey fumbled for the right word, “easy.”

  Campbell laughed out loud, forgetting that he was supposed to be serious. He covered his mouth and tried to look apologetic. “Sorry, it just cracked me up to hear you talk about someone being easy. You, who wouldn’t—”

  “Wouldn’t what?” Lindsey’s eyes flashed, challenging him to make fun of her choice to wait until she was married.

  He had stepped into that one. “Um, you, who wouldn’t think of being easy.” He grinned.

  “Is that what you want? An easy girl? Because I hear there’s one for the taking. She’s probably lurking in the dunes right now. After all, she always seems to be wherever you are. Want me to go check?” Lindsey made a visor out of her hand and looked around as if on recon.

  He laughed and took her hand, pulling her close even though she stiffened against him at first. “No,” he whispered. “I want you to stay right here with me. I want to enjoy the time we have left together before you go home. I want to take you back to the mailbox tomorrow so you can write about our time together like you did last year. Okay?”

  She nodded. “It just scares me. Because I know Ellie is going to be around when I’m gone.”

  “But you forget that she has a major negative working against her,” he said, tracing his finger around the outline of her face.

  Though she knew the answer, she needed to hear him say it. �
��And what is that?”

  “She isn’t you,” he said. “And you are all I want. Always.”

  Summer 1986

  Dear Kindred Spirit,

  This summer I looked for you everywhere I went. I wondered if you would know me if you saw me. Were you the lady who smiled at me on the beach when we passed each other? The fisherman on the pier who talked to me that day I went out there alone? I couldn’t wait to come here this year and tell you what’s been happening in my life. I hope you looked forward to hearing from me again. Something tells me you did.

  Last night Campbell took me dancing. But not to a club or a wedding or any of the places you might think. He took me dancing at the pier. We were the only ones there. He held me close and said he had a surprise for me. He pulled out his Walkman and held one earpiece up to my ear and one earpiece up to his as he played Don Henley’s song “Boys of Summer.” We danced cheek to cheek as I cried, because I knew our time together is winding down and because I am powerless to stop it.

  Don Henley sang, “I can tell you my love for you will still be strong, after the boys of summer have gone.” With the lights of the pier shining down on us, I smiled into Campbell’s eyes. I was thinking: After all the other people in our lives fade away, we will still be together. Right?

  He nodded, answering my unspoken question. “Yes,” he said. He pulled me closer and whispered, “I love you and I always will.”

  We rewound the song and held each other close as it played at least half a dozen times. The song is a bit too fast to slow dance to, and I teased him that we were slow dancing to a fast song. He said he could slow dance with me to any song, that we were made to dance through life together.

  Standing there on that pier, Kindred Spirit, I tried not to think about the fights we have had the last few days over Ellie. I think it is just the stress of knowing that our time together is ending, that soon, reality will hit and I will go back to Raleigh and he will stay here. With Ellie. I try not to think about what could happen to us. That, even though Campbell is my soul mate, life could intervene and pull us apart. I know that and I suspect he knows it too, even though he never says it. Won’t even hear of it.

  Will you watch him for me, Kindred Spirit? Can you make it so we don’t fall apart? If you see things going wrong, you could let me know somehow. I think that would be okay. I mean, I don’t know the Kindred Spirit rules very well, but it feels like helping me out might be part of your job. I feel like you are rooting for us to make it. Holly says I should pray about our relationship. That I should ask God to guide us. I want to believe that there’s a God who does guide us, but I’m not sure I can. For now, I believe in you, Kindred Spirit.

  When we get back from the mailbox this afternoon, I am leaving. My aunt and uncle will have the car packed, and my cousins will be breathing their root beer breath on me the whole way home. They will ask their mother why I am crying and embarrass me by pointing it out for the whole car. My aunt will offer up some excuse. “She’s sad to be leaving her friends,” she will say. Friend, I will think. I am sad to be leaving my friend—the one person I trust more than anyone. The person I was made to be with. If I could change one thing about my life, I know what it would be: I would move to Sunset so I could be with him all the time.

  Until next summer,

  Lindsey

  Chapter 5

  Sunset Beach

  Summer 2004

  Lindsey made her way back to the house from the beach, ashamed of her inability to simply journey a few miles to a stupid mailbox that she had been to so many times before. She had only gotten halfway there before turning around and heading for home. As she walked, she made excuses in her head.

  It was getting close to dinner and the kids would be hungry.

  She needed to finish unpacking.

  Why rush a visit to the mailbox when she had so many days ahead of her to do it? She had all the time in the world, she told herself.

  But the truth was that she just wasn’t ready to go. She pushed aside the thought that for the first time in many years, when she got back home, there would be no one, no Grant, to ask her about the mailbox visit.

  As she approached the house, she looked for signs of life, movement, anything. Even though she knew two children were holed up in there, the house looked empty. She wanted to see the detritus of family vacations past—discarded sand pails and lone flip-flops littering the yard, dripping swimsuits tossed over the porch railing, little people keeping watch for her return while their daddy sipped Diet Coke on the porch swing.

  But instead of facing what she lacked, she continued to walk past the house. The kids would be fine, she knew. She headed straight to the “downtown” area of Sunset Beach, home to a few beach shops, a place to get ice cream on warm summer evenings, and the Sunset Beach pier.

  She smiled as a memory of that pier crept back into her mind—and for once, she let it. After all, she was no longer a married woman. She could remember old loves, relish the long-ago feeling of a summer romance, and savor the sweet memory of a handsome boy’s kiss. She remembered dancing slow to a fast song, clinging to each other as though they were drowning when really they stood far from the danger of the waves that crashed below. She remembered the tickle of his voice in her ear, singing the words to the song like a promise.

  Take that, Grant, she thought to herself and smiled without meaning to, the warmth of hope flooding her body. A thought skittered through her mind: Is this what healing feels like? What moving on looks like?

  The town bustled with families and teenagers enjoying the evening breeze after a long day on the beach or being cooped up inside with napping children. Soon it would be time to go back to their rentals, eat dinner, then collapse after too much sun exposure. The pace at Sunset is slow—there are no amusement parks, no water slides, no tourist traps. There is not much to do other than enjoy the ocean and take it easy.

  Someone had propped open the door to the Island Market so that the steady stream of customers could make their way in and out. She wished she had thought to bring money. She could have picked up some things to make dinner instead of ordering pizza.

  Although her kids would probably whine if she proposed anything else. “But it’s tradition to order pizza the first night,” they’d say. Thinking of this, she realized pizza was the right choice after all. Over the past year, she had learned to hold to the traditions her kids treasured even though their family felt very untraditional without Grant. Sometimes it physically hurt to go on with the traditions, but she found that, in doing so, she actually felt better. And she knew the kids felt better too. So they would have pizza their first night at the beach, just like they always did. And she would avoid looking at the empty place at the table and ignore her forced-sounding laughter that had replaced the natural flow she used to take for granted.

  Even though she had no money with her, she wandered into the market. It hadn’t changed much in the years she had been coming to the beach. It was still a place to pick up eggs, milk, and bread for those folks who didn’t want to leave the island. People still had to stock up on the mainland because the market didn’t carry everything families needed for vacation. But its size was part of its quaintness. Lindsey loved biking there in the early mornings each summer and picking up a bag of miniature powdered-sugar doughnuts for her family when they woke up. Back in her “real life” in Charlotte, she couldn’t bike to a grocery store to pick up breakfast. But at Sunset, she could.

  She stood in front of the doughnuts, staring idly at the packages of Sweet Sixteens, daydreaming, when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Excuse me, but you wouldn’t happen to be Lindsey Porter, would you?” The sound of her maiden name shocked her, making her feel like he asked for someone else entirely, someone long dead. She turned to look at the older, balder, more weathered face of a young man she knew many years ago. He wore a
name tag that said “Bill.”

  She pointed at the name tag and smiled. “I can remember when that name tag used to say ‘Billy.’”

  The familiar face broke into an even more familiar grin. “It’s so great to see you!” he said a bit too loud. Several customers looked over at them as Billy wrapped her into a hug.

  “You too, Billy! What in the world are you doing here?” she asked as she pulled away from him, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She smoothed down first her shirt and then her hair, wondering what she looked like after her walk on the beach. Though she didn’t worry about impressing Billy, she wouldn’t want word to get back to the people they once knew that she had let herself go and roamed Sunset Beach in dirty capris with hair askew.

  “I guess I could ask you the same thing,” he replied. “You on vacation? With your family? I didn’t know you still came here.”

  She nodded, smiling. Seeing Billy—a living, breathing reminder of just how far back she went with the place—made her happy. “Yes, I’m here with my kids.” She paused to let that sink in. With my kids, not my husband, she wanted him to hear. “What about you? So you’re working here again? Decide to get in touch with your past?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He lapsed into a godfather impression: “My uncle who owned the place sold it to me for an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “The Sunset Beach mafia?” she teased. Was this flirting? Whatever it was, it felt safe to practice on Billy.

  He laughed. “Yeah. Something like that. I left here years ago, moved to my wife’s hometown. We were happy. Working hard, the American dream and all that. Then this opportunity came up and we both thought, why not? Let’s live here, raise our kids here. Be beach bums, you know.” He gestured to the rest of the store. “So, I run this place and it turns out it’s a nice life.” He smiled at her, and she could see him at sixteen so clearly; it broke her heart just a little bit to think of how much time had passed.