“Welcome to Sandpiper Gallery. We have some new pottery pieces from local potters along that window, and also new art pieces by some area watercolorists. Feel free to browse around and let me know if you need anything.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Brinley noticed that Ivan followed her around through the gallery, as if he didn’t have his own plans. She went to the pottery pieces first, wondering if Riley Brooks had made those. There were wash bowls, platters, and the usual coffee mugs. They were all in some swirly brown and burnt sienna patterns.
She picked up a mug and turned it over. It wasn’t Riley’s piece, but another local artist had signed and dated it this year. The coffee mugs were thirty dollars.
“That’s almost the same color as your hair,” Ivan said. “I like it.”
“The mug or my hair?”
“Will you think poorly of me if I said both?”
“No. I don’t care either way. I do like these mugs.” Brinley picked up another one. It had a bit of a heft to it. The handles were made well, sturdy and wide enough for her to put four fingers through. The dab of clay on top of the handle was perfect for her thumb. She held it up. “Good balance.”
Ivan picked up one. “Nice handle. Good hold.”
They both looked at each other, mugs in their hands.
“We should each get one,” Ivan said.
Brinley thought a moment. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Hot Pink wrapped up the mugs in too much newsprint. Brinley and Ivan each had a paper bag to carry their coffee mugs home. They paid separately, Ivan using a debit card, and Brinley paying in cash.
“Too bad we won’t be using these mugs together,” Brinley said as they left the store.
“But I’ll remember the color of your hair when I drink my coffee in the morning.”
Brinley wondered whether that was good or bad.
The sun shone somewhere above their heads, not directly, but still warm enough to counter the soft breeze coming ashore from St. Simon’s Sound. They dropped off their mugs in the truck, then decided to walk toward the pier and then to the lighthouse. Crossing Neptune Park afterwards, they could make their way to Barbara Jean’s, where their little walking tour would end.
End.
Such a definitive word.
Brinley didn’t want her time with Ivan to end. She felt like she wanted to get to know Ivan more but was afraid of what she might find. Her tea time with Yun McMillan had revealed a deeply religious woman with a broken family that she and her husband had pieced together and weathered for years. In spite of living in a rundown house that ran the risk of collapsing—especially that front porch—Yun had been adamant that her God was still good and that He still dispensed blessings.
Brinley wondered what sort of blessings Yun meant when the McMillans’ lives looked pretty rough.
Well, looks like Ivan turned out okay.
Maybe that’s one blessing.
* * *
Ivan felt self-conscious next to Brinley as they walked through the covered portion of the St. Simon’s Island Pier, as if this scene, this surreal time with a lovely lady, was too good to be true. Here was a pretty girl strolling with him like she belonged with him.
She seemed to be taking it all in despite the smell of squid, shrimp, and other fish bait around them. In front of and behind them, more island residents with fishing poles, folding chairs, and rolling coolers appeared, together with multilingual tourists in their sun hats, sunscreens, excited faces, and digital cameras, all heading in the same direction as Ivan and Brinley, toward the edge of the T-shaped pier.
They passed a police officer patrolling the pier, then by people who had already cast their lines over the side of the pier.
“We used to say it’s shaped like a hammerhead shark,” Ivan said.
“You and Quincy?”
“And Willow too. Did Grandma tell you about my sister, Willow?”
Brinley nodded. “She plays the piano.”
“She’s still somewhat mad at me because I disbanded Jade Strings when we were at the peak of our careers.” Now why would I tell Brinley that?
“After how many years?” The wind blew Brinley’s hair here and there, and she tried to pull it all back behind her ears.
“Six years.”
“A grudge?”
“I’m sorry,” Ivan added. “Too much information.”
“Yun is fortunate to have you, Ivan. It’s hard to be widowed, for sure. Grandpa Brooks was lonely for many years after Grandma passed away.”
“He didn’t remarry?”
“No. He was on a quest. You know, that one.”
“Ah, the Strad.”
“It was an endless pursuit.”
Ivan didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to cast the first stone. He had enough things to worry about. Family debts to pay off, Grandma Yun to provide for, those performances coming up next week he had to rehearse for. He had been so busy he hadn’t even thought much of his brother and his sudden marriage to Zoe. The thing was, the couple had all but moved to Paris. Out of sight and all that jazz. He wished his brother well.
Ivan and Brinley stopped at the wood railings at the edge of the pier. Ivan looked down at the water splashing about the pillars in greenish and brownish hues. He couldn’t see any fish or barracudas.
“Jekyll over there looks peaceful.” Brinley put on her sunglasses.
Facing the wind, it swept her hair back. Ivan saw little baby hair at the edge of her forehead. And a tiny little brown spot—a mole or a birthmark—on her right earlobe. She had no earring holes in her ears. In fact, she wasn’t wearing any necklaces that he could see. All she had on was a watch and a small cross-body purse.
“SISO will be playing there New Year’s Eve. I hear most of the board members will be there together with some guests from ASO.”
“ASO?” Brinley raised an eyebrow. “Scouting for talented musicians?”
“One never knows.” Ivan glanced at his old watch, its surface scratched and the leather straps falling apart. Matt’s thrift shop probably had some straps he could swap these out with. It was almost one o’clock.
There was commotion all around them. Words in Korean filled the air. He knew it was Korean, but he couldn’t understand it in spite of it being Grandma Yun’s mother tongue. He looked to see if he could tell what was going on. Tourists and locals were pointing toward the Sound and cameras were clicking.
“Look, Brin!”
They both looked in the same direction as everyone else on the pier. There between Jekyll and the pier, a pod of whales breached the surface tension of the water. They screeched and dropped back into the water on their swim south.
“Oh wow. All the way from Greenland.” Brinley dug for her iPhone and tried to snap a picture as another North Atlantic Right Whale breached the waterway.
“And Canada.” Ivan was so excited he didn’t realized his left arm had gone over Brinley’s shoulders and was sitting there around her neck. Apparently, Brinley didn’t either as she kept taking photos.
Then she snapped a close-up photograph of Ivan’s face.
He hadn’t expected that. “What was that for?”
“A moment with the whales.”
“And with you.”
Brinley snapped one more time. “I’ll email it to Zoe and your brother can look at it.”
The whales moved on, but the moment remained.
Ivan wanted to retract his arm, but it wasn’t cooperating. Brinley didn’t seem to mind or notice. Either that or she had quickly become so comfortable with him that she had expected it.
Expectations?
This can’t happen.
They were of different faiths. Ivan was a Christian and Brinley wasn’t, as far as he knew.
Grandma Yun had mentioned briefly that Brinley had been asking about heaven.
Good.
That meant she didn’t know much about it.
Not so good.
This trajectory he was on could
only end badly because he couldn’t give her what a non-Christian might expect out of a relationship.
Relationship? What relationship?
We’re just keeping each other company.
Sure. And they had bought twin coffee mugs. His and hers.
But we’re accidental chaperones and chauffeurs for our elderly relatives.
Sure. And they had planned on eating lunch. Together.
But it’s lunchtime. Everyone has to eat.
Ivan kept telling himself it wasn’t a date. Not. A. Date. Still…
What’s happening, Lord?
Ivan prayed quickly for relief.
The fisherman sweater felt soft in his hands as he rounded his arms around Brinley’s waist and gathered her toward him. He didn’t hesitate this time, and Brinley closed her eyes when their lips touched, gently and tentatively at first, then deepening and yet with guarded ardor.
What am I doing?
Ivan’s eyelids blinked when those same tourists who went crazy over the whales now snapped their cameras incessantly at them, all the while chattering in rapid Korean.
“Kiss her again,” one of them said.
Brinley buried her face into Ivan’s barn jacket. “Help.”
She felt nice and warm against his chest. But…
What in the world overcame me?
“Guess we’d better get out of here,” Ivan said, pushing through the crowd toward shore. In minutes they were off the pier and walking along the shoreline past the public library and Neptune Park and its live oak trees.
“At least you finished what you started.”
Brinley’s voice was quiet, but Ivan heard her as they passed children playing among the oaks. In his heart, he didn’t agree with her.
Some things should never be started at all.
He felt like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof sitting on his milk cart and having a conference with God.
Lord, was that a mistake?
What am I going to do now?
Chapter Twenty-One
“What? Twelve dollars per person?” Ivan shoved his hands into his barn jacket pocket. “I can’t believe it.”
They were standing outside what used to be the lighthouse keeper’s dwelling built in 1872, now a museum. Brinley wasn’t sure if Ivan was only joking about the cost of admission. She pointed to the next line in the brochure in her hand. “Free for kids six and under.”
“It’ll be a long time before we—”
Ivan clamped up abruptly.
We?
Brinley dared not look at him so he didn’t feel anymore embarrassed than he probably already was. They had only known each other for three days. Maybe less than three full days.
And he’s talking we?
Maybe it was a universal we, as in “we people at our age.” That must be it.
After all, a kiss does not children make.
“For free, we could walk around the gazebo and along the shoreline. Save us a hundred and twenty-nine steps.” Ivan turned to leave.
“Twelve dollars get you the lighthouse, the museum, and the Coastguard Station.” Brinley reached for his arm. “Come on, Ivan. Let’s do it. Just this once.”
Forty-some steps up the steep spiral lighthouse stairs later, Brinley wondered why she had even insisted. She was a student of Georgian history, yes, but only when it didn’t hurt her calves and thighs this much. Her knees seemed to be holding up, but that was no consolation.
“They did this all the time back in the days.” Ivan reached for her hand. “Imagine the hard life.”
“Hard life? Not harder life? How ironic.”
Brinley thought Ivan’s life was hard enough. The day before, Yun let it slip that they had multiple mortgages on that dumpy old house of theirs. If Ivan had more income, wouldn’t he have fixed up that house? Replaced the floorboards on the porch, and repainted the interior of the house, at least? Brinley remembered pulling out of that driveway on Friday afternoon, wondering whether their roof also leaked. It had looked old and run-down with a few pieces of shingles missing.
Brinley let Ivan help her up the next steps. She looked down. It looked like a nautilus spiral all the way down to the bottom of the lighthouse. “Did you realize once we reach the top, we have to come back down?”
“We can’t go down now,” Ivan said. “We have six more dollars to go.”
“Are you blaming me?” Brinley stopped at a window to catch her breath. They were about halfway up. That window faced the pools, the park, and the pier where they had kissed for the first time.
Brinley still felt the tingle on her lips from his soft kiss.
It was just a kiss.
And they were both single, unattached, free to date.
Nothing to it.
Right. Keep telling myself that.
Brinley sat down on a cool stone step. There wasn’t anyone else around. “I used to be able to climb these steps. I guess I’d better hit the gym more often.”
“Do you work a lot?” Ivan asked, sitting down next to her.
They were shoulder to shoulder. Brinley welcomed his nearness. He felt comfortable to her.
“I’m in sales,” she said.
“You must work like a dog.”
“And then some.”
“You don’t sound enthused.”
“Dad said work is good for the soul.” It wasn’t much of a defense, but it was all Brinley had. She had wanted out of Brooks Investments for a long time. She had taken Parker’s place after he passed away suddenly. She should have said no. But her MBA had said yes. Dad knew sales wasn’t her forte nor point of interest.
Truth be told, she’d rather be a historian. That didn’t bring in any income, did it? But who cared, really? Her inheritance would be enough for her to live at least five lifetimes over. She could buy up the entire St. Simon’s Island if she wanted to.
“But you don’t enjoy it,” Ivan said.
“It has ups and downs.”
Ivan seemed to be waiting for more.
Brinley didn’t give it to him. “You’re a curious guy, aren’t you?”
“I’m curious about you.”
“Well, I don’t particularly love being in sales, not the least bit all the traveling I have to do to get new clients for Dad’s company, but I enjoy the independence and I’m sort of good at it.”
“You can be good at things you like to do too, you know. Why choose something you don’t like?”
“I’m doing this for my brother, Dill, so the burden wouldn’t be entirely on his shoulders after we lost Parker.”
“And it makes you happy to help others.”
Brinley shrugged. “Let’s get to the top.”
“So we can get back down again.”
“Haha.”
The door opened to a blustery December. The sun was up in the sky, but the winds were swirling all around them. Above them was a smaller balcony encircling the giant Fresnel lens, out of use since ages past.
“I’m glad they rebuilt this lighthouse,” Brinley said.
“They did?”
“There’re probably some old photographs downstairs. I don’t recall much since it’s been a while since I visited the museum. All I remember is that the original lighthouse was built in 1810 and destroyed during the Civil War, you know.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“And how long have you been living on St. Simon’s?”
“I’m more into music history.”
“Can’t put on blinders. History is all around you.”
“So if you could do anything, you wouldn’t be in sales. You’d be doing something related to history.” Ivan stopped walking and reached for the iron railing.
“Not just any history but the history of coastal Georgia.” Brinley stood next to him.
“That specific. So why not do the career you like?”
Brinley wondered how much to tell him. She decided not to say anything. Didn’t want to get his hopes up about her leaving Dad’s company and moving to
St. Simon’s permanently. They just started to know each other.
Still, they had kissed, if it meant something.
“Obligations,” Brinley said.
“Obligations? I know how that is.”
Brinley couldn’t read his face. “Love this place. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Don’t get me wrong. I love Atlanta and all, but if I had to choose between the two, I’d leave the big city for this seaside town any day.”
“I’m the opposite. Once my obligations are done, I’m gone. Out of here.”
“You mean leaving St. Simon’s for good?”
Ivan nodded. “My sister and I were on tour for two years in our crossover orchestra.”
“Yun had mentioned it, though not in details.”
“Much about me you don’t know.”
“Likewise.”
Ivan held her hand. “I’d like to know you more.”
“If our paths cross again.” Brinley started to feel something akin to a loss, but she wasn’t sure. She tried to make light of it. “Maybe I’ll see you perform at Carnegie Hall?”
“I’ll make sure you have front-row seats.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. If I make it.” Ivan reached for her hand. “God has changed my plans at least once before. He might change them again.”
“God doesn’t let you get what you want?”
“I didn’t say that. If it’s bad for me or for my family, I don’t want it.” Ivan pointed toward the village. “See over there, behind that row of shops where your sister-in-law’s gallery is?”
“One street over?”
“Yes. Past those trees? See that three-story building?”
“Brick? Old warehouse?” Brinley asked.
“Yep! It has been on the market since June.” Ivan shook his head. “If I were to stay put here and not go back on tour with my sister, maybe someday I could rent space in that building for a music studio.”
“Have you been inside?”
“No. Can’t afford it.” Ivan looked resigned.
“But aren’t you a bit curious about how it looks inside?”
“What do you mean?”
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