Pawleys Island Paradise boxset, Books 1 - 3

by Laurie Larsen

  Once he was inside, Jeremy held a hand out. “Mr. Slotky, I'm Jeremy Harrison.”

  The moment of silence was a reprieve before the man exploded. “I thought so! You've got a lot of nerve coming here, Harrison. After what you did to me. I have half a mind to punch you. And don't think I couldn't do it, too.” He swayed on his feet and dropped the beer can in his hand. Foamy liquid flowed out onto the carpet.

  “You have every right to be mad at me, to hate me. I did some awful things, and I hurt a lot of people. I know that, and I take responsibility for that. I wanted to come here and see you face to face to apologize. That's all.”

  “What makes you think I want to hear your apology? Why would that mean anything at all to me, you big liar?”

  Jeremy steadied himself. “Mr. Slotky, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but I was sentenced to a decade in prison, and I served my time. I was released this summer. And I'm sure anxious to make things right.”

  “Yeah, well, I do know that because you somehow pulled my sweet daughter Emma Jean into your messy life with that article. How'd you wrangle that one? Get her to feel sorry for you, betray her father?”

  The man turned to step away from the door and got his feet tangled in each other. He stumbled and Jeremy reached out to catch him from falling. Mr. Slotky waved an uncontrolled arm, catching Jeremy painfully on the shoulder.

  “No, sir, I didn't have anything to do with that article. In fact, I was against it at first. My probation officer asked me to do it, or else I would've turned down the interview. Last thing I want is publicity. I really just want to focus on living an honest life and working hard.”

  The man sneered, his hatred evident. “How handy that you get to work hard, after all the lives you ruined. So many people laid off from your company, what they would really like is to work hard, but unfortunately there's no jobs out there to be had.”

  “That's another reason I'm here today, Mr. Slotky. I want to help you find work. I had a couple ideas about that …”

  “Oh you did, did you? Swoop in like a white knight on a steed and help the pathetic old man? Well, I don't need or want your help. I wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole. How about that?”

  Jeremy gazed around the room, unsure of where to go next. A few empty beer cans littered the tables and a big basket of unfolded laundry sat next to the couch. The paint on the walls was well worn and the carpet showed signs of wear. “Mr. Slotky, listen to me. You need to get back to work, and I'm sure you could use the extra money. Who couldn't? I'd like to help you make a few connections. You were a roofer, is that right?”

  “Yeah, that's right.”

  “Well, my dad, you remember him, Hank Harrison, he works for a management company for rental beach properties. He does the handyman stuff, but I could talk to him about recommending you for any roofing work that needs to be done. These houses are old, and I would guess there would be roofing work.” He eyed the beer cans and Mr. Slotky's uneven stance. “Of course, you'd have to be steady on your feet to do that kind of work,” he said cautiously. “You think you could still handle working up there at those heights?”

  Mr. Slotky shrugged, looked away.

  “It wouldn't be full-time work, but just like any construction gig, they'd contract you for the job they need doing and you'd negotiate a price. If you need any help, you could bring a partner on. How does that sound?” He waited for a response.

  Mr. Slotky ambled over to a recliner and threw himself into it. “I'm not crazy about taking help from you, young man.”

  At least his tone had lowered from yelling to conversational. The man looked exhausted and drained.

  “I understand that, I really do. I have a lot to make up for, not just with you, but with others too. I'm sorry for what I did. I want to try to make it up to those that I can who are still hurting from my decisions.”

  Mr. Slotky pointed a finger at him. “I don't want your charity.”

  “It's not charity. It's trying to do the right thing, because I did the wrong things ten years ago. Can I talk to my dad? See if he'll talk to his management company on your behalf?”

  Mr. Slotky's next words were so quiet Jeremy had to lean closer to hear them. “I don't want your pity.”

  “No sir, I don't pity you. I just want to help.” Jeremy took a few steps over to the couch and sat. They both stayed quiet until about ten minutes later, a snore escaped from Mr. Slotky's lips. The man was napping!

  Jeremy struggled with the decision to wake him or just leave him be. He'd obviously been drinking, which he supposed was okay since he wasn't working and wasn't driving. There was no car in the driveway or carport, so he supposed Mrs. Slotky had it at work. However, drinking to excess wasn't a good idea, especially if it was a habit. Which Jeremy had no idea if it was or not.

  One thing was certain, though. If he was going to stick his neck out and talk to his dad about putting in a good word for Mr. Slotky, the man better clean himself up and show up for work sober.

  He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and rose, slipped it into Mr. Slotky's hand. The man had some thinking to do. Was his desire for a job stronger than his grudge against past wrongs? Time would tell.

  * * *

  A few hours later, the sun was setting and it gave Jeremy an idea. He called Emma. “Hi, sorry for the short notice. You got plans tonight?”

  He detected a hint of laughter in her voice. “Actually I do. Editing an article for the magazine. There's something wrong with it and I can't figure out what it is. I've procrastinated over it so much at work that now I have to do it at home.”

  “Ahh, okay.” He hoped his disappointment didn't show up in his voice.

  “Why, what's up?”

  “Oh no, nothing. You've got important work to do.”

  “I don't know if I'd call it important. It's a story about a new work out center in Myrtle. I interviewed a few of the instructors and a few clients. I'm just having a tough time putting an inspirational slant on it.”

  “I'll let you get to it. Don't want to interrupt.”

  They hung up. Thirty minutes later, his phone rang.

  “I think what I really need is a distraction. Were you going to offer me one?”

  He chuckled. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. We artistic types work on a schedule all our own. You can't push your muse. And it's not often consistent with the deadline.”

  “I'll come get you.”

  He drove over and went to her door. She opened it with an excited smile on her face, a pair of snug jeans and a sweatshirt. He loved how she was up for anything, spontaneous. Because he wasn't the type to plan too far ahead.

  They jumped in his truck and he drove a short distance away from the craziness of Myrtle Beach and into the country. When he pulled up to the entrance, she shrieked. “A drive-in movie theater?”

  He nodded with a smile.

  “I haven't done one of these in ages!”

  The evening brought a brisk chill to the air, but a clear view of the mammoth screen. Jeremy followed a short line of vehicles and picked a spot halfway through the lot, with empty stalls on either side. He turned to her. “Concession stand?”

  She nodded happily. They walked across the lot to the building at the far side. The moon shone in the sky and they had to pick their way carefully in the deep dusk. They stood in line, then ordered hot dogs, popcorn and cotton candy, with sodas. They made their way back to the truck just as the screen lit up and started playing previews.

  “I can't believe we got all this junky junk food.”

  Jeremy smiled and lined all the food up on the dashboard. “Dig in, princess. Dates with me are top class, have you noticed?”

  She dug into her hot dog with a vengeance, then slowed her pace with the popcorn, tossing a few handfuls into her mouth before pausing.

  “Hey uh, I want to tell you something,” he started.

  She looked at him. “That sounds ominous.”

  “No, no. At le
ast, I don't think so. I just didn't want you thinking I've done something behind your back.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I went to see your dad this afternoon.”

  Shaking her head, she exploded, “What?” Then quieter, “Okay, that's not what I thought you were going to say.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Depends. Why did you go and what did you say to him?”

  “I apologized. And I offered to help him find work.”

  “Wow. Seriously?”

  He nodded. “I have a lot of redemption to seek. I wronged a lot of people. I figure because of us, and our … friendship … I should tackle your dad. Ask for forgiveness, try to right the wrongs.”

  She looked down at her lap and he thought he saw a hint of a smile. She looked at him again. “Friendship?”

  “Or, whatever.”

  “Well, you got guts, I'll give you that. How did he take it?”

  “Not that well. But I didn't expect forgiveness with one visit. He's angry. He's got a right to be. This'll take a while. That's okay. I've got time.”

  She reached over and ran a finger over his cheek. “The more time I spend with you, the more impressed I am.”

  Warmth flooded his face, and he knew he was blushing. He wasn't particularly used to praise, and had a hard time believing it.

  “Did you mention me?”

  “Your name came up. He thought I somehow wrangled you into doing that article on me.”

  She smiled. “Oh, that was your fault too, huh?”

  He nodded. “But no, I didn't broach the subject that we're … seeing each other.”

  She chuckled again. Then, thankfully, he was off the hook because the previews ended and the feature film started.

  “Oh!” she said and pointed out the front windshield. She grabbed her popcorn, slouched down in the passenger seat and leaned her head on his shoulder. He grabbed a fleece throw blanket from the back seat, and flipped it over them. His arm around her while they snuggled felt so right.

  * * *

  Driving home from work a week later, Emma dreaded the inevitable conversation in her future. It was a nagging thought, never far from her mind. It wouldn't be pleasant, but at least it would be out in the open. The question was, when? Instead of going home, she drove to her parents'.

  The time was now. No use procrastinating.

  She pulled into the driveway, pleased to see her mother's car at home. Things usually went better when Mom was there along with Dad. Emma let herself in the front door. Standing in the small living room, she noticed three baskets of dried laundry, unfolded. “Mom?”

  “Oh, hi!” a muffled voice came from the back of the house. “I'll be right out, I'm changing clothes from work.”

  Emma wandered into the kitchen. Dirty dishes stuck out of the sink. She sighed and opened the dishwasher. Full and clean. She began to take clean dishes out, putting them where they belonged. Mom came in just as she was starting to load the empty dishwasher.

  “Oh, don't work, don't work,” said her mom.

  “That's okay, I don't mind. You work so hard all day. Was Dad home today?”

  Her mom looked at her, brow furrowed. “Well, sure.” As if, where else would he be?

  “Mom, you need to set expectations for him. Give him a 'Honey-Do' list. He could have done these dishes for you and folded the laundry as well.”

  Her mom waved a hand, dismissing her suggestion. The woman valued peace in her home, even if it required her to do 99% of the work to keep the house running.

  Emma finished loading the dishwasher and her mom said, “So what brings you by? I was going to make some meatloaf. Want to stay?”

  Emma thought grimly that after she brought up what she had to, none of them would have an appetite tonight. “We'll see, Mom. Listen, I need to talk to you and Dad about something important.”

  Mom gave her a worried look. “The last time you came here and said that, it was about that Jeremy Harrison article. That was already published, wasn't it? That's over.”

  “Um, yes. The article is over. But there's more.”

  Edna drew in a deep breath and sighed it out. “There's more to tell about the Harrisons? Oh Emma, what?”

  Emma ran her hands over her eyes. She'd prefer to protect her parents from what they would consider bad news. But the fact was, she was dating Jeremy. She liked him. A lot. And unless things changed, she could see herself forming a long-term relationship with him. She had to at least make her parents aware of this fact, whether they ever accepted it or not.

  She put a hand on your mom’s cheek. “It’s okay, Mom.” She walked to the top of the stairs in the corner of the kitchen and yelled down, “Dad? Hey Dad, it's me. Can you come up, please?”

  Some mumbling emerged from the basement. “Wha … what? Baby girl?”

  Emma glanced over at her mother, who grabbed a dishcloth and began busily wiping the counter that didn't really need it. “Yeah, it's me, Dad. Can you come up?”

  She went to the table and sat. Gradually, she heard evidence of her father's progression up the stairs through a series of grunts, bumps and footfalls. Soon, he emerged at the top of the stairs in the kitchen. She went to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. He smelled of beer and cigarettes. “How you doing, Dad?”

  “Great, sweetheart, now that you're here. Look at our daughter, Edna. Isn't she pretty?”

  Mom smiled and nodded. “She sure is, Gary. We raised a heck of a girl, didn't we?”

  Emma put her head down, biting her tongue on a smart retort. Whatever success she'd achieved, which was minimal so far, she'd gotten from her own hard work and commitment, not from her upbringing. Although, in a backwards sort of way, maybe her upbringing illustrated for her what she needed to escape by working hard and making her own way in the world.

  Regardless, she'd let it pass because she loathed bringing pain on these two people. Flawed though they were, they were her parents. They loved her and there weren't that many people in her life she could say that about. Besides, the subject she was here to talk about would be explosive in itself.

  “Okay guys, come sit down. I have something to tell you.”

  “Good news?” her mom said with a big grin and it pierced Emma's heart. Despite the disappointments in her mom's life, she kept her optimism.

  “Yes, I think so. I hope you agree,” she said cautiously. When they were all settled at the table, Emma began. “I've been dating someone. A young man. And I think I'd like to see where this relationship goes.”

  “Oh, that's wonderful, honey! Someone you care about. That's great.”

  Her dad wasn't quite as happy, but still listening. “What's he do? Does he treat you right? You know you don't have to put up with any man's crap if he don't treat you right. You know that, baby girl, don't ya?”

  Emma refused to think about the irony in his words, or look at her mother to see if she'd picked up on it too. “He's very nice, Mom and Dad. He's very respectful and kind.”

  Her mother grabbed her hands and squeezed them. “Oh that's great, honey. When do we get to meet him?”

  She rarely brought boyfriends over, so the fact that she was even talking about this one with them was significant. Of course, they didn't know the half of it.

  “So,” she stammered, wishing she'd brought a script, then just got to it, “my new boyfriend is someone you know. It's Jeremy Harrison.”

  The silence that hung in the room was so heavy Emma felt she could squeeze it like a sponge and expect to see drips of water rain down on the floor.

  Then, “What did she say, Edna?” her father, deceptively calm, asked.

  Her mother moved her head, looking in turn at Emma and her husband. “What? I don't understand. Why…?”

  “Listen, I know this is difficult for both of you. I know Jeremy has caused a lot of pain for this family in the past. But he's not like that now. He's changed. He's hardworking and he regrets the mistakes he's made in the past.”

  She c
ouldn’t say anymore because her father began yelling, “No! No way, Emma Jean. How could you? How could you betray us like this? This will not happen. Not while I'm head of the family.”

  She reached over to pat his hand. “Wait, wait. I've given him a chance and he's really turned himself around. He’s kind and he’s sweet. And we have a good time together.”

  “Oh, Emma.” her mother moaned. “You always do this, you want to help the underdog. The stray pet or the squirrel stuck out in the snow. Even some of your friends were the sad sacks who didn't have anyone else. That's all this is.”

  Emma shook her head. Would that be easier for her mom to accept or should she set her straight? “Mom, no. Jeremy's not a sad sack or a squirrel out in the snow. He's a hard-working man, on his way to success. He's a talented wood worker and he's fun to be with. I really enjoy spending time with him.”

  “I forbid you to spend time with him!” her father roared. “Look what he's done to me! Look at what he's made of my life.”

  Emma let those statements simmer for a moment, then stated calmly, “Dad, first of all, you can't forbid me to spend time with him, or anyone else. You can share your preferences with me, your advice, but I'm a grown woman. I can spend time with anyone I choose. And right now, I want to be with Jeremy. I have no idea if it'll work out or not. But I've been open to forgiving him for his past. I'd like to see you think about doing the same thing.”

  Her dad grunted. If he'd had something in his hand, he'd have thrown it, but fortunately, he'd left his beer can downstairs. His face was turning red and his mouth was puffing up like he was about to expel a huge breath.

  “Dad, listen to me.” She took both his hands and gripped them in hers, forcing him to stay where he was and look at her. “Jeremy caused you to lose your job. But Dad, you're a craftsman. You've got skills. You've been unemployed for almost twelve years now. You can't blame all that on Jeremy.”

  He snatched his hands from her grip and her mother's eyes popped open so wide she feared they'd burst. He stalked away from her in the small kitchen, then turned to point a finger in her direction. “Never did I think I'd see the day that my own daughter would take a Harrison's side over mine. He's brainwashing you, girl. You have no family loyalty. None. You don't have any idea what they put me through. If you did, you wouldn't look twice at that guy.”