“Not yet.” He raised his voice. “All right, all right! Let us go. We have something to tell you.”
Marianne gasped, a gallon of assumption resting in that breath.
“Tell her quick, before she jumps to the wrong conclusion,” Leslie muttered.
They sat in the great room and Hank jumped right in. “We saw Jeremy today.”
Marianne’s eyes popped wider. “Oh! I didn’t think you were going there but okay, that’s good news too.” She exchanged glances with both of them. “Great news, actually, fantastic news! So tell me.”
Hank gave a succinct description of recent events, leaving out a million details, but Marianne visibly held her tongue. Both ladies knew Leslie would fill in the blanks later. “Now, a question for you, daughter dear. Do you have a vacant room for our friend Leslie here?”
Marianne smiled. “In fact, I do.”
“Then, get the lady set up for a stay of undetermined length.”
“Will do.”
He stood and reached out to Leslie. “Could I have a private word with you?”
“Of course.”
They walked to the back porch and then outside to the boardwalk. He turned and gave her a serious expression. “I can’t thank you enough. For helping me see that visiting Jeremy was the thing to do. For going with me, even though I showed up unannounced and you have plenty else to do. And for being here with me now. I don’t know how long you can stay, but I would love to shower you with attention while you’re here. Like tonight, dinner?”
Leslie smiled. “I’d love to.”
“And whenever you need to go back to Pittsburgh, let me know and I’ll drive you. Meanwhile, I think I can sweet talk the boss into giving you a free room.”
“Oh, no! I can’t do that. This is Marianne’s livelihood. She can’t make money giving rooms away for free.”
He took her hands in his. “Whatever she can’t discount, I’ll pay for myself.”
“No.” Leslie shook her head.
“I won’t take an argument. You’ve done so much for my family. It’s the least I can do.” He leaned in for one of those soft, gentle, soul-shattering kisses of his that left her absolutely breathless. “Tonight at 6? Jambalaya is on the menu here.”
She nodded, watched him leave, then settled down and checked into her room.
They enjoyed the jambalaya dinner, as well as more delicious homemade seafood dinners on consecutive nights. During the day while Hank worked, Leslie relaxed on the lounge chair on the beach, reading, or ventured into the ocean and rode the waves. She shopped in the quaint artisan stores in town, and even bought a hammock, Pawleys Island’s trademark. Of course, she had no idea where she would put it since she’d be homeless soon. But she had to trust in God her housing arrangement would become clear to her.
One noon-time, she got in her car and wandered over to where Hank was working, two sandwiches and a bag of chips packed in an iced cooler on her front seat. It was early for a lunch break, so on her way to the big beach house where he was working, she parked her car across from The Old Gray Barn. She gazed up at it, the old wooden house on stilts with its gorgeous back view of the beach, a dinosaur by today’s architectural standards. It couldn’t hold a candle to the new beach homes, so full of luxury and beauty. And yet, none of those new homes down the beach held any appeal to her.
She had no idea how long the old house had been sitting there, but it had survived at least one hurricane she was aware of. Deceivingly sturdy. Took a beating and stayed standing. Sort of like her, and this summer adventure.
So little about the house had changed since she had spent summer after summer here as a girl. Good things were meant to last.
The longer she stared at it, the more a feeling instilled itself in her heart. Other than her house back in Pittsburgh where she’d raised her family, this was the only place in the world that gave her a sense of home. Of belonging. Of nostalgic love of place. And her home in Pittsburgh had been sold to the highest bidder. So, by process of elimination, this was the only place for her in the world.
The moment the thought hit her brain, her pulse increased, her breathing became labored in her chest. What was this? Was this God speaking to her, or just her crazy mind wandering to places it had no right going? The Old Gray Barn could be her new home? How crazy was that?
She quickly bowed her head and said a quick prayer, asking for clarification. “Please guide me, please lead me. Help me understand what I need to do regarding my next home. Should I go buy a condo in Pittsburgh? Why? What’s left for me there? Should I buy an old beach home in Pawleys Island? Why? What’s in store for me here?”
She ended her prayer, feeling slightly better that she’d prayed, but still with no answers. That was okay, that was the way of prayers. By placing her open heart in God’s hands, she’d do her best to understand His answer. But answers don’t usually come immediately.
She started her car and continued on to find Hank. She spotted his truck parked two blocks down in front of an old beachfront house, also on stilts. She carried the lunch box up the stairs and finding the door unlocked, let herself in.
“Hello?”
“Hello!” His voice floated from the back porch. She found her way.
She stepped down onto the porch floor, now converted to a 4-seasons room. The wall facing the ocean was one window after another, providing a non-stop view of the magnificent private beach. He stood and covered the distance to her in a couple steps. He took the cooler.
“What a pleasant surprise.”
She couldn’t stop staring out the windows. “Is it hard to get anything done with this view? Look, the ocean is sparkling today.”
He chuckled and turned to face it. “It sure is. And yes, it’s hard but I have to keep my nose to the grindstone. I have another three days’ work here, then I have another job lined up after that. ”
She shook her head. “You rarely have a day off, do you?”
He considered it. “No, but until recently I haven’t had much of a reason to.” He came close and put his arms around her, pulling her against him. They both breathed in the other, enjoying the feeling of body against body. He locked eyes with her, then moved in for a gentle kiss.
Once her heart rate recovered, she pulled herself together. “I brought you lunch. Are you hungry?”
“Sure.”
She pulled the sandwiches and chips out and they settled on the wooden floor. Halfway through the sandwich, Leslie’s phone rang. Glancing at it, she groaned. “Tim.”
Hank ducked his head and smirked.
“I have half a mind to let it go to voicemail.” Leslie stared at the phone as if it held answers. “Then again, he rarely calls unless he has news.” She pushed the button. “Hello?”
“Hi Leslie. Is the work complete that we scheduled?”
Leslie was speechless.
“The roofers should’ve come Monday and Randall said the radon installers called him on Wednesday asking for a key to get in.”
“Oh, uh huh.” She’d forgotten to tell Tim she’d left town again. Ooops.
“So are you satisfied with the work? I mean, I’m sure you haven’t climbed up on the roof, but is everything to your satisfaction?”
She sighed. “Tim, actually, I’m out of town. I haven’t inspected the work done. ”
“Oh.” His sudden silence made her almost smile. She knew him well enough to predict the internal workings of his brain. He was dying to ask where she was, why she hadn’t told him, reprimand her for not being around to inspect the work done to the house. But he knew it wasn’t his right anymore, it wasn’t his business. She supposed you could teach an old dog new tricks.
“I should’ve informed you of my plans since they impacted the work done on the house, but they came up rather suddenly. ”
“Oh.”
She had stunned him, caught him surprised, made him unable to come up with a word other than “oh.” Under the circumstances, she couldn’t help but consider tha
t a victory.
“If you’d like to inspect the work, feel free, or since Randall still has a key, he could do it. ”
“Right.” She heard some papers shuffle on the other end of the line. “Leslie, there’s one other thing. The buyers have an additional request.” He hurried on. “During their walkthrough, they noticed several of our custom-made furniture pieces and wondered if they could purchase them from us. Pieces made specifically for the house. For example, the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. The leather circular couch in the sunken family room. And the armoire in the bedroom. ”
Leslie could picture the pieces in her mind as he listed them, and she also replayed the scenes in her mind of their creation. She had worked with a furniture store in town to design the circular leather couch. And the armoire was custom-made by an artisan in central Pennsylvania. The bookshelves had been built specifically for their family room by a local wood worker. All of them were her creations, her design, her ideas. She waited for a pang of pain to hit her at the thought of letting them go, like had happened with the carpet, the countertop and the blinds.
But nothing hit. No pain. She glanced over at Hank. He was making a concerted effort not to eavesdrop.
Tim continued, “These items are negotiable Les, as they weren’t included in the purchase contract. But I really think we ought to consider their request. Since they were custom fit, it’s unlikely they’d go in any future place …”
“Yes, let’s go ahead and sell them,” Leslie said. “Whatever price you think is fair.” She listened to a few seconds of silence before she went on, “In fact, do you want any of the furniture? You can pick what you want, and we can offer the rest of it up to the buyers. I won’t have a spot for them in my new place, I don’t know about you. I’ll probably start fresh. New furniture, new color scheme.” New life, new hopes, new dreams.
“Uhhh,” Tim stammered, which caused Leslie’s lip to curl up. “I hadn’t really considered selling all the furniture. I figured we’d try to split it up equitably.”
“Well, you can have all of it then. I’m sure you’ll be fair in compensation.”
Tim wasn’t a stammerer. He was too sure of himself and in control. So Leslie didn’t really know the right word to describe what he was doing. But if she didn’t know better, she’d think “stammer” was close.
“Thanks for the call, Tim. I need to get going.”
“Uh, Les? Where are you and when are you coming back?”
She glanced over with a smile at Hank. “I’m right where I want to be, where I need to be, where I’ve always loved to be. And I have no idea when I’m coming back. Call if you need me!”
Chapter Twelve
Two months of Leslie’s summer break had slipped by. August was right around the corner, and along with it, the feeling of anxiety that accompanies every teacher’s heart at the turn of the month. Leslie had always loved teaching, but even so, the thought of turning the calendar page to August meant her carefree summer days were coming to an end and the school year, and all its work and early mornings and late nights, was imminent.
This year, the anxiety was more prevalent than usual because of how up in the air her living arrangement was. What was she doing here, 650 miles away from home, when she should be in Pittsburgh, finding her next place? But every time she thought and prayed about leaving Pawleys, she ended feeling uncertain. This new lifestyle of letting God lead her actions was unsettling, but exciting for its possibilities.
She was sitting on her favorite lounge chair on the wooden deck behind the Inn. The day was a hot one, in the upper nineties, the sun direct by mid-day. She had lathered up with sunscreen, and she wore a big floppy hat for good measure to shade her face. Marianne and Stella walked by on their way to the beach, then when Marianne noticed Leslie sitting there, she waved Stella on.
“You go on, sweetie. I’ll be right there.”
Marianne lowered into the lounge chair next to Leslie. “How’s it going today?”
“Fantastic,” Leslie answered.
Marianne rested her head back onto the cushioned back and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe my baby’s going to kindergarten in a month. ”
“Oh! What an exciting time. She’ll be fine, Mom.” Leslie reached over and patted Marianne’s arm. She had grown so fond of Marianne over the weeks they’d spent together. They had a bond and could talk openly about any number of topics. She was a fine mom and a great businesswoman and she loved her dad, wanting the best for him. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. Marianne was convinced Leslie was the best for him.
“I wish the school wasn’t in such disarray. It would be easier to deliver my firstborn to them if they had their act together.”
Leslie glanced over at her. “What do you mean? What’s going wrong at the school?”
“The kindergarten teacher had her baby, but the administration hasn’t named a replacement yet. It’s only weeks till school starts and we have no idea who her teacher will be.”
Leslie nodded. “I can see how that would be disconcerting to you, but unfortunately this is very common. Because public schools rely on state budgets, we’re often in the position where non-tenured teachers are laid off every spring, then wait with baited breath to see if they get rehired in the fall. Often, the rehires happen just a few days before the school year starts.”
“How awful!”
“It is, not only for the children, but especially for the teacher. Can you imagine being given a class of twenty five or twenty eight students, with two days’ notice?” Leslie turned back to the ocean. “I’m sure they’ve got a long list of applicants. They need to go through the process of selecting the right one.”
Marianne sat quietly, then said softly, “Maybe you should go throw your name in the hat.”
Her voice was so low, Leslie wasn’t sure she’d heard right. She turned to her. “What did you say?”
Marianne smiled. “Go apply! I’d love for you to be Stella’s teacher.”
Leslie chuckled nervously. “But I have a teaching job. In Pittsburgh. And it’s starting soon.”
Marianne waited a beat or two. “You sounded so sad as you said that.”
“Did I?”
Marianne nodded. “Are you going back?”
“I suppose. What else would I do?”
“Stay here.”
Leslie sighed. “That sounds like one of those dreams that can’t possibly turn into reality.”
“Why not?”
But the more Leslie pondered the idea, she couldn’t come up with a concrete reason. She no longer had a house, a husband, or a daughter in Pittsburgh, nobody who needed her day in and day out. She did have a job, and a classroom full of kids who would need her soon. But there were classrooms of kids needing teachers all over the country. What was so special about Pittsburgh?
She turned to Marianne. “This may be crazy talk but I think I will apply at the school. What’s the principal’s name?”
Marianne squealed like a teenage girl and clapped. “Mrs. Robinson.”
* * *
The meeting with Mrs. Robinson went well. She seemed interested in Leslie’s long tenure and experience teaching a variety of grades. They discussed Leslie’s ideas for improving the kindergarten curriculum, and Leslie discovered there were actually several openings this year due to a retirement and a sudden resignation. Walking out of the school though, her sense of well-being was replaced with anxiety. Her breathing was ragged as she got in the car and her head filled with dread. What on earth was she doing? She couldn’t leave a long-term stable teaching job. They were hard to come by these days. She’d worked up her salary to higher than average. She’d need it now as a single income person. She’d better put this crazy pipedream behind her and head back to Pittsburgh … today.
So she bowed her head and prayed a fervent prayer, “Lord, guide me. Help me know what is right. What is Your will for me? Help me follow Your will. I need help here. Make it clear to me which way You wan
t me to go.” She repeated various versions of the same prayer for a good ten minutes. When she raised her head, her anxiety had lifted and she no longer felt the need to race “home.” She drove back to the Inn.
When she got to the great room, Marianne was on the phone behind the desk. Leslie couldn’t help but overhear her side of the excited conversation since her voice was louder than usual. “Yes, Dad. Today. I don’t know why. Evidently they don’t give them tons of notice. But he just called me. No, he doesn’t need a ride. He’s taking a bus. He’s coming straight here. I know. I can’t wait. It’s unbelievable. After all this time. Okay, come on over. Yeah. ”
She hung up and noticed Leslie lingering. “Jeremy’s being released this morning!”
Leslie danced over to her and pulled Marianne into a happy hug. “That’s wonderful!” Then she asked the first thing that popped into her head, “Do you need my room?”
Marianne laughed. “Not this time of year. I have room for him and you, too.”
The next few hours were spent cleaning the already spotless inn and creating and hanging a huge Welcome Home Jeremy banner in the great room. Leslie drew big block letters on a flowing roll of blank newsprint and Stella decided on the color scheme and colored in the letters with her markers. Marianne bustled around with the duster and the vacuum. When Hank arrived, he helped attach the banner behind the couch so it would be the first thing Jeremy saw when he came in the room. When they were done decorating, they estimated another hour to fill before Jeremy arrived so Hank swooped Stella up in his arms, took her to the car and they went shopping for colored balloons to place around the room as well.
The Prodigal Son was returning, Leslie mused. Warmth filled her heart over the excitement the family felt over his return. She had a bit to do with that, she realized. How would Hank be feeling about Jeremy’s release if she hadn’t arranged the prison visit? If they hadn’t spoke recently? She said a quick word of thanks to God for the joy in their hearts today.
While they were waiting for Hank and Stella to return with the balloons, Leslie went to where Marianne stood, idly dusting the bookshelves she just dusted moments before. “Anything I can do?” she asked with a smile.
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