Forever Beach

by Shelley Noble

  You couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t make it go faster or slower, you could just make the best of it. Sam’s words. And he’d laugh when Sarah rolled her eyes at him. Sam had taught her acceptance along with all the other important things.

  It hadn’t been easy. When she walked into the clock store that first day, she had spent years trapped in a holding pattern of waiting. She’d been living in the system, when you were at the mercy of so many factors, none of them personal, and none of which you understood.

  Sarah had never felt in control of her life, her world, until she met Sam. Even then she’d fought him. He never gave up on her; he taught her how to stand on her own feet, stick up for herself in a constructive way, not by fighting or furtive attacks; he taught her to relax, to enjoy the world around her. And he shared his life’s love with her, clocks.

  At first he only let her dust, showing her how to lightly reach into the “nooks and crannies, like English muffins,” he said. Sarah didn’t get it, but she nodded like she did. She didn’t fool him. She could tell from his eyes, but he didn’t make her feel stupid or anything.

  When he finally let her help with repairs, she acted like she didn’t care. But she did, more than she could understand. All those little parts, some so tiny that she went all fumble fingers and they would roll and hide until she wanted to throw the whole damn thing in the trash. Sam would just wait for her to calm down, then help her search for the pieces. And when they’d all been returned to the workbox, he’d hand her a magnifier glass, and start her all over again.

  She would sometimes complain bitterly, but when she was done, each part, no matter how tiny, was put together in a way that made everything work. Steady, dependable. Like Sam. Like the way life should be.

  In the clock shop Sarah felt she belonged, had a reason to exist. Out in the world she was not so sure. Even now, over a decade later.

  Now she was stuck in that holding pattern again, at the mercy of decisions made by strangers. She knew there was nothing she could do but wait. Hope, prepare to be disappointed.

  Whenever she was depressed or feeling lost, Sam would shake his head and he’d tell her to be her own champion. She sometimes lost sight of that now that he wasn’t here to egg her on.

  If she was to stay on top of things, she needed to step up to the plate. And she knew just where to start. Because that was one thing she could “do,” without waiting for someone else’s decision.

  The minute Alice walked in, Sarah grabbed her bag. “I have to run out. I should be back in a while.” She had no idea when she would be back—a few minutes or a few hours, whatever it took. But sometime before she had to pick up Leila at the bus.

  Before she could second-guess herself, Sarah was in her car and driving to the Erickson, Cartwright and Hefley law offices.

  She didn’t even know if Nonie was there today or if she was in court. Hell, she could be taking the day off and spending it on someone’s yacht. Maybe her own. Sarah didn’t care; at least she was being proactive. If she had to leave without seeing her, she would, but she’d be back, and she would show up without warning her old friend, her sister, that she was coming. Not give her notice so she could turn her back on her again without hearing her out.

  She didn’t even know what she wanted to say, mainly she just wanted to know.

  ILONA WAS ON the phone to Mr. Sobrato’s lawyer. His client wanted to meet. Settle this out of court. Too late, baby. They’d had their chance. She was just about to tell him so when the door opened.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop her,” Inez explained, following close on the heels of Sarah Hargreave.

  “I’ll have to call you back.” Ilona hung up the phone. “Inez, get security up here. Stat.”

  Inez hurried from the room.

  Ilona turned to Sarah, who looked like an avenging pixie. “Do you think bursting in here will get you anything but arrested?” Ilona said at her coldest. But she was shaken. She’d been off balance ever since seeing Sarah with her foster daughter. Off balance and angry.

  Sarah didn’t slow down, until she reached the opposite side of the desk. She braced her hands on the top and leaned forward. “I can’t believe you have lived here for the last ten years and you never tried to contact me. But I guess I understand it now. You’re cold and heartless and you don’t care about anything but climbing the ladder to success. To think I actually believed you when you said we were sisters. That we would always have each other’s backs. I trusted you. Loved you. And you betrayed me. You left me with nothing, not even hope.”

  She sucked in her breath on a sob. “I hope you’re happy with what you have. I hope it was worth it.”

  Sarah turned and left as fast as she’d come. Before Ilona had a chance to understand what she was saying. Much less defend herself.

  Inez’s head appeared in the doorway. “Do you want to file a complaint? Have her arrested?”

  Ilona shook her head. “Just have security escort her out of the building. I don’t think she’ll be back.”

  Inez nodded, and the heavy door swung closed behind her. Ilona closed her eyes.

  Dear Sarah,

  I didn’t mean it. It’s just why don’t you write me?

  Nonie

  SARAH STOOD ON the sidewalk in the sun, breathing hard. Not willing to wait for the elevator, she’d taken four flights of stairs down. She half expected the security team to be waiting for her at the bottom.

  What had she been thinking? What if they actually carted her off to jail for breaking or entering or something? She wouldn’t put it past the person who used to be Nonie to do something like that. And how would that look on her record at Child Protection and Permanency?

  And she didn’t even have the satisfaction of seeing Ilona turn back into Nonie and tell her to go eff herself. That’s what she would have done before, only she wouldn’t have stopped there.

  But of course the manicured imitation of her friend inside her air-conditioned, sterile office would never stoop to something so low class. She wouldn’t even acknowledge Sarah’s presence, much less react to her. Just sat behind her big designer desk with her stony face and waited for her minions to come relieve her of Sarah’s unwanted appearance.

  Well, to hell with her.

  Though to be honest Sarah hadn’t given her much of a chance to respond. She had just wanted to get said what she needed to say before she was thrown out. And she had said most of it.

  She started walking down the street to where she’d parked the car next to the curb. Expecting the need for a hasty getaway? She smiled at the thought. She almost did.

  But damn, it felt good to be doing something, even if it made absolutely no difference to anyone else but her.

  Her car was stifling, the seat burning from the sun. It was a good thing she hadn’t needed to jump in and speed away. As it was, she stood outside while the air conditioner ran, then she got inside and drove away.

  It was on the way home that Sarah began to wonder if she’d done something really stupid. Would Nonie be so vindictive as to report her to the child services staff, say that she’d broken into her office and threatened her. That she had anger management problems, that she was a threat to Leila. Sarah wouldn’t put it past her. But she had her friends and they would be good character witnesses.

  Friends. She had friends. Sometimes in the craziness of her life, she forgot. She had friends. Good friends. Like a family.

  Dear Ilona,

  I don’t need you anymore. I thought I did, but I don’t. It was hard but I held out hope that I would see you again. I never stayed with a family for long. One, there were too many children. They didn’t do anything but take the money and sit around watching television. Another the man kept trying to get inside my pants. The wife caught him with his hand up my shirt and slapped me. I ran away. There were others, and through it all I kept telling myself to hang tough like you said. That we’d be sisters again one day.

  I lost you. But I found Sam. He is the one who taught
me how to trust people. How to love. How to expect a good day ahead instead of a bad. I owe everything I am today to Sam, not you.

  And to my friends who like me in spite of the socially inept mess that I still am. So go on with your life. And I’ll go on with mine.

  Your . . . nothing,

  Sarah

  Sarah went straight to the workshop when she got home. She needed to be with the clocks, to envelop herself in the feel of them, the sound of them. She had friends, but she needed her clocks to keep her sane. To keep her from being afraid. Clocks were good. You knew where you were with clocks.

  REESA GRABBED A packaged sandwich and a cup of coffee from the hospital canteen and remembered to get her parking ticket validated before leaving the hospital. The office was still looking for relatives who would be interested in taking the three White children. Until then, Reesa was making sure they were being well taken care of. Pete was resilient and would be ready to leave the hospital soon, probably as soon as there was a bed available in one of the care facilities. Little Jerome was still in intensive care.

  Reesa had taken Pete a video game. It had belonged to one of her boys and was pretty out of date, but Pete seemed happy to get it. Then she sat by Jerome’s bed, wondering how a boy so small could have so many tubes keeping him alive. It was enough to break anyone’s heart.

  She drove to the CP&P office where she had to sit in on a team meeting for the White boys. She’d already told them to put the boys on a permanency track. She’d tell them again today. They could talk about it all they wanted and they would. There was always someone who thought they knew best and would argue until the others gave up or shut them down.

  And they wondered why caseworkers couldn’t get their work done.

  She’d heard from Tanya Aguda about an apartment for Ms. McKinney. She’d pulled some strings and found a small unit. It wouldn’t be available for another week while it was being repainted, but she could take the older woman over to look at the place before she signed the papers. That’s one thing she could do without a committee.

  She phoned Michael.

  It took him almost ten rings before he answered.

  “I was beginning to worry. It took you so long to answer. Were you outside?”

  There was silence at the other end. “Michael?”

  “I was watching the game. I didn’t hear the phone.”

  Reesa took a deep breath. “It will be after six maybe seven before I’m home; there’s chili in the Crockpot and some salad stuff in the fridge.”

  “What is it with you? Can’t I get a decent meal for a change?”

  “Well,” she said, using every bit of her discipline not to yell. “You could make yourself some chicken. There’s a package in the freezer, defrost it in the microwave.”

  “Maybe I will. It was a strike, you dummy!”

  “See you later.”

  “Huh? Yeah. Ya bum! What are you blind, you—”

  Reesa hung up.

  She swung out of the parking lot and drove straight to the apartment complex where Ms. McKinney lived. She parked at the curb and walked up the sidewalk to the building. There was a pile of garbage and furniture on the curb and she wondered briefly if it belonged to the Whites. No big deal. Surely there was nothing worth saving, and she wasn’t about to look.

  She rang the buzzer of Ms. McKinney’s apartment, listened to make sure it was working, and waited.

  Knocked on the door. “Ms. McKinney. It’s Reesa Davis, the social worker who came for the White boys. Are you in?”

  She heard the rattle of the chain and the door opened a bit. Ms. McKinney looked out. Then opened it wider.

  Reesa gasped. “Ms. McKinney, what happened? Did you fall?”

  One side of her face was bruised and scraped. As she closed the door behind Reesa, Reesa saw that she was using a cane to maneuver herself through the apartment.

  “Mugged. Those boys. Took my social security money.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  Ms. McKinney shook her head. “They can’t do anything but get me in trouble.”

  “Well, I came to tell you that I’ve found you an apartment in a retirement community. It’s subsidized. And safe. You’ll need to come sign some papers and it will be another week before it’s ready, if you’re interested.”

  “It’s safe?”

  “Yes, it has a security guard on duty as well as a buzzer.”

  The old woman’s mouth worked like maybe she was chewing her cheeks. And then tears began to roll down her cheeks. “The Lord is good and so are you, Mrs. Davis.”

  “I can take you to see it now, if that’s convenient.”

  “Oh yes, ma’am, real convenient.”

  Reesa knew she should go down to the office to file her report, but protective services wouldn’t fall apart if she took an hour to help out an old lady who had helped them. Actually they wouldn’t even notice. And probably, neither would Michael.

  IT WAS NEARLY seven when Reesa dropped Ms. McKinney back at her old apartment. She walked her to her door and saw her safely inside. Then, clutching her mace canister, she hurried back to her car and drove home.

  Reesa didn’t even slow down to take off her shoes when she got home. She marched right back to the den where she found Michael where she knew he would be. She’d meant to sit down with him and talk things out, try once again to get him off his duff and out looking for a job. Hell, at this point she’d be happy if he’d just go out.

  But when she actually got his attention over the blare of some sports talk show, she said. “Just so you know. I’m out of town this weekend. You’ll have to fend for yourself until I get back.”

  She walked out of the room and down the hall to her bedroom where she changed into yoga pants and an old gardening shirt.

  She shoved her feet into last year’s running shoes and was coming out of the bedroom when she met Michael coming down the hall.

  “What do you mean you’re going out of town?”

  “Out of town,” she said. “As in, not in town. I should be back Sunday late, or maybe Monday.”

  She breezed passed him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going out to the yard.”

  “I mean where are you going this weekend?”

  She took a breath. “I’m going to a girls’ weekend away.”

  “What the f—? What am I supposed to do?”

  “Gee, Michael. I don’t know. Why don’t you watch some television?”

  “Hey, I broke my leg.” He followed her into the kitchen.

  “That was months ago. The doctor says you’re fine. I’ve tried to be supportive, I’ve talked myself blue in the face trying to get you going. Now it’s up to you.” She grabbed a diet soda out of the fridge and headed for the back door and the shed, where hopefully she’d find some forgotten and probably rusting gardening tools.

  “I can’t go back up on the scaffolding.”

  She stopped. Turned. Looked him in the eye. “Then get a job on the ground.”

  She opened the back door.

  “Where are you going now?”

  “To dig up the dead rhododendrons.”

  “What about dinner?”

  “You’ll have to open the Crockpot by yourself.”

  She started to close the door, but he jerked it out of her hand.

  “You sure know how to emasculate a guy.”

  “No, Michael, you’re doing a pretty good job of that yourself.”

  She went to the shed, pulled open the rusted metal door, bent over, and went inside. When she came out with a shovel and a garden claw, he was gone, the back door was shut.

  And Reesa was shaking. It seemed to her she had just started something and she had no idea of where it would end.

  Chapter 13

  Weekends were always busy for the clock shop. It got more foot traffic from people looking for interesting gifts, so busy that Sarah and Alice both worked a full day.

  Sarah had promised to
meet Reesa and Karen for a drink Saturday evening. Karen would pick her up and drop off Jenny and Leila who’d spent the day with Bessie and Tammy. At first Sarah hesitated. Leila had been up and down since the Wednesday visit with Carmen, and they hadn’t spent much time together since then. Sarah rarely went out at night, and she didn’t want Leila to think it was because she was letting her go.

  She made all these excuses to Karen, but Karen would have none of it, so finally she agreed to have an early drink at a nearby upscale bar.

  The cuckoo sounded for maybe the twentieth time that afternoon. It was the sound that alerted them to the arrival of customers. When Sarah had first come into the store, she’d thought it was the corniest thing she had ever heard. But Sam loved it. He chuckled every time it sounded no matter how many times it went off during the day. Some days she’d want to put her hands over her ears and sing Lalalala until it stopped, but now she loved it, too. It had become so much a part of her that she couldn’t imagine a buzzer or a bell instead.

  An older lady and her middle-aged daughter were looking for memento mori watches. Sarah didn’t carry anything that reminded her of death or how short life really was, so she gave them the name of a dealer who could help them and sent them on their way.

  A few minutes before closing, a couple came in who evidently had money and time to burn. After much laughing and dithering, they bought a 1950s “vintage” Swiss wristwatch and Sarah followed them to the door. She locked it behind them and turned the Closed sign over.

  “Can you lock up for me?” Sarah asked Alice who had already gotten out the Windex and was cleaning the glass top of a display case from the last customers.

  “Going home early?”

  “Going out with the girls.”

  “Oh. Good for you. And who’s watching Leila?”

  “Karen is bringing Jenny over.”

  “And you feel confident leaving a twelve-year-old by herself with Leila?”

  “We’re just going down the street for a drink. I’ll probably be back before dark.”

  “You should go out more often,” Alice said. “You’re a young woman. You should have some fun.”