Beach Winds

by Greene, Grace

  Brian shrugged. “At least you opened the conversation. It should make the follow up easier.”

  She hoped so. Because now she really didn’t have any choice. Juli must be told. This was about her life as much as Frannie’s.

  When Brian left to take Megan home, she called Ron Hamilton. “Could you find out if Penelope Warren is still alive? I believe she lives in the Louisburg area.” She read aloud the return address on the outer envelope.

  “Sure. What else can you tell me about her?”

  “She’s my uncle’s sister. About his age, I guess. Somewhere in her eighties. She’s called Penny. Maiden name was Denman.”

  “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know.”

  “Another thing. Could you get me the contact info for anyone at all who might have known, or might have information on Frances? I want to speak with them personally.”

  “It’s a short list, but I’ll see if there’s anyone else I can add to it.”

  “Thanks.”

  After she disconnected, she continued standing there, staring into nothing. This was a winding road she was following. Tortuously winding, but with amazing scenery and some happiness and grief. At least, she was no longer standing still—at least not in the physical sense. No longer waiting, but instead, moving forward.

  It was a crazy, adrift kind of feeling, but forward, definitely.

  Frannie stood facing the fridge and thinking about Brian. Mrs. Blair had said “Name’s Brian. His number is on the fridge.” Or something like that. She touched the paper with Brian’s name and number scrawled across it. Who could have known what a difference a few weeks could make, and a big part of that difference was Brian. All because of a piece of broken lattice for which she’d needed a handyman—Uncle Will’s handyman. Now hers.

  She’d left this mess of notes, cards and magnets untouched, as if disturbing them would irretrievably erase Will’s life—the life he’d build for himself here at Emerald Isle and would want to return to, intact. So, she wouldn’t remove them, but a bit of reorganization couldn’t hurt.

  She lined the larger magnets up and tucked the few business cards under the edges. Then she gathered the stray notes and secured them under the smaller magnets. It was interesting to see what Will had considered important to his life, important enough to keep front and center on the fridge.

  A business card from an accountant. The Front Street Gallery. Will’s attorney and a doctor’s office. And one from “Odd Jobs and Handyman” that listed Brian. No, not Brian Donovan. Mr. Patrick Bryan.

  Who the heck was Patrick Bryan? For sure, he wasn’t her Brian.

  A competitor in the handyman trade? Her brain twisted and turned trying to fit it all together in a comfortable, sensible way, but it couldn’t happen.

  So, who was Brian?

  The phone rang. She let it go to voicemail. When the message light lit up, she punched the key to listen.

  “Frannie? Frannie. I’ve been waiting for you to call me. I need to speak with you. I want you to know I’ve been thinking about you and about everything, and I want to help you.”

  There was a long pause, and then Laurel continued, “Call me, please.”

  Frannie disconnected from voicemail, then dialed her attorney. “Mr. Lloyd? I need to speak with you regarding my house. I’ve come to a decision and I want her out no matter what it takes.”

  ****

  It was still morning. Frannie had set her cup of tea on a small table next to the porch rocker, but today it failed to soothe her. She was tossed back and forth between anger and distress. She needed questions answered.

  Maia came straight around to the back and climbed the stairs to where Frannie waited on the porch.

  “Hey, there. I’m here.”

  “Thanks for coming over. I appreciate it. This was inconvenient for you. I could’ve driven over.”

  “It was no problem. I had to drop off something at Luke’s.”

  Maia continued, “No one was home, so I left it inside the storm door and came on over.” She dropped into a rocker and smoothed her flowered skirt and kicked off her low heels. “What a gorgeous day. So what’s up?”

  “Would you like some tea?”

  “Sweet tea?”

  “A cup of tea. Hot tea.”

  “Oh. Maybe later. Thanks.”

  “Excuse me for a minute.”

  Frannie went inside, took a glass from the cabinet, and filled it from the pitcher in the fridge. She went back out with the glass in one hand and a napkin in the other. She put the napkin against the bottom of the glass and then smoothed it as she twisted it up the sides of the glass.

  “Voila, Maia. For you.”

  “Look at you! You’re one of us now. By the way, I love that scarf. It’s a great color on you.”

  She almost answered, Brian gave it to me, but didn’t want to invite that discussion. The more precious their relationship had become, the less she was willing to chat about it. Instead, she said, “I need to ask you about something.”

  “You seem so nervous. Surely nothing can be so dreadful on a beautiful day like this.”

  “I have several things bothering me, but this one, I think you can help with.”

  Maia stopped rocking and leaned forward, her feet flat on the porch. “Name it.”

  Frannie looked her straight in the face. “Will you be honest with me?”

  “Of course. What’s up?”

  “It’s about Brian.”

  Maia’s face changed, going solemn, and her brows narrowed. Almost as quickly, her expression smoothed, but didn’t quite return to the relaxed, cheery state she’d arrived in. She said, “Go on.”

  “Brian isn’t my uncle’s handyman, is he? What does he do for a living?”

  She leaned back into the rocker. She put a finger to her lips and paused before answering. “This and that, I guess. I don’t quite know how to answer you.”

  Her caution, the careful choice of words, worried Frannie. Maia opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. Her face began to flush.

  “Are you okay?”

  Maia nodded, keeping her lips firmly pressed together.

  In frustration, Frannie leaned back in her chair, too, and groaned. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you.”

  “Ask him.” Maia said. “He’ll tell you anything, but you know how he feels about gossip, even when it isn’t really gossip, but only talking. I told him I’d try not to, you know, talk about other people’s business. Anyway, ask him.”

  “You’re right. I was too embarrassed. It must have started as a misunderstanding, but why wouldn’t he tell me?” She stood abruptly and went to stand again at the rail. The rocker kept rocking. “But why should he be honest with me? I tried being candid and it went badly, believe me.”

  “With Brian?

  She had a feeling that if she answered ‘yes’ Maia would dispense with caution and tell her anything she wanted to know. She said, “No.”

  “Not me, right?”

  “Definitely not you.”

  “Oh, so it’s Juli.”

  Her heart sank. Juli and Maia must have discussed what she’d told Juli. She felt like a fool. “So she told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  She heard sincerity in Maia’s voice. “How do you know something happened between me and Juli?”

  “I don’t actually know, but I’m pretty sure you aren’t talking about Joel. You aren’t, right?”

  “No.”

  “Whew. Good. Joel and I have been talking a lot and he’s wonderful, so I’m glad. You mentioned ‘she’ the other day at lunch when you said you had something worrying you. Your mother might have been on your mind, but you were already troubled about her, right? Nothing new. Luke did mention you came by, but then left because Juli felt ill. Or, at least, he thought that was why you left, but I could tell he was concerned.”

  “I see.” Juli had kept it to herself. Frannie found that reassuring. “You are one clever girl.”

 
Maia giggled. “Not really, but I am intuitive. I pick up on moods and bits of info and they fit together sometimes.” She looked down. “I’m not really a gossip. Or maybe I am. Brian is probably right about that, but I’m working on it.”

  “I’ll ask Brian.”

  “Yes, please.” Maia touched the corner of her eye.

  “You aren’t crying, are you?”

  She shook her head. “Do you need help with Juli? I know she likes you.”

  From down the beach, a walker had approached, already nearly parallel with Captain’s Walk.

  Maia half-rose and squinted. “Is that Juli down there? Were you expecting her?”

  “No.” Frannie clutched the railing. “No, but I’m glad she came. I need to speak with her.”

  “I guess that explains why she wasn’t home. Do you need my help?”

  She almost wanted Maia for cover. Juli might be more receptive, or at least appear more receptive, with Maia present, but that wasn’t fair to Juli and it was cowardly.

  “I should speak with her alone.”

  “I’ll run along then. Unless you need me to stay? To wait?”

  “Thanks, Maia. I’ll talk to you later.”

  She stood and waved at Juli, then slipped her bare feet into her shoes, grabbed her purse, and with a reassuring smile, she vanished down the stairs.

  Frannie walked down the crossover. She felt like she was approaching fate.

  Juli was here, dressed in rolled up jeans and carrying her sandals. Frannie touched the cotton capris she wore. Beach wear for a beach meeting. She descended the steps and asked, “Would you like to walk?”

  “Maybe we could sit here?” Juli nodded toward the sand.

  They sat, leaving about a yard of careful space between them.

  “I’m not sure what to call you. I met you as ‘Frannie’ but Brian calls you Fran as if you’ve never been called anything else. Which is right?”

  She dug her fingers into the warm sand. “Frannie.” She laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I might try on Fran for a while. I always wanted to be someone different, anyway. At least, I have since my dad died.”

  Juli arched one eyebrow. “Someone different? Who?”

  One speechless moment, and then Frannie shook her head. “Who? You’re joking.”

  “I am, but only sort of.”

  “You think I’m foolish, don’t you? I have been blessed in many ways. I have so much. I’ve had it all of my life and yet I was never content being me.”

  “Why?”

  “I never felt comfortable in my own skin. Complete. I felt like an imposter. Unworthy.”

  This time they shared the moment of silence, but Frannie was warmed by Juli’s smile.

  Juli leaned forward and picked up her water bottle. “I understand.”

  “You felt uncomfortable in your own skin, too?”

  “No, not that. I felt comfortable as myself. In fact, I was self-reliant. I didn’t need anyone else, until I discovered that I did. I thought I was content as myself, but I never belonged, not anywhere. I could carry it off as if I did belong, but I never felt it inside.”

  Juli’s attention appeared to drift away. She tilted her hand so that the sand cascaded between her fingers. Frannie waited.

  As she brushed the last grains from her palm, Juli said, “I worked all sorts of jobs. I was proud of my independence, but all I was really doing was hiding.”

  Frannie said, “From the first moment I saw you, you seemed to have it all—and to have it all together, too. Perfect family. Perfect life. Loving family and genuine friends. What could you possibly be hiding from?”

  “From people and life. From having to trust, to depend on them.”

  “Because of Frances?”

  Juli didn’t answer. Instead, she shifted the conversation.

  “What about you, Frannie?”

  “I’m hiding, too. Here at the beach.” She shrugged. “There are worse hiding places, right?”

  “No one can fault your choice of hideaway, but you aren’t a hider.” Juli looked away and then back. “You are a pleaser. You try too hard to please everyone.”

  “No, you’re wrong. I always offend people, annoy them.”

  “Remember the old saying? Try to please everyone, and please no one, especially yourself.” She stirred the sand with one finger. “Which, by the way, is not always true. Everyone here likes you very much. The important thing to remember is that people can like you or not. Ultimately, the only thing you can control is yourself and what you give to, and take away from, the exchange.”

  They let the words lie there on the sand between them for a few quiet seconds. When Juli broke the silence, her manner was sharper. “Why do you still live with your mother?”

  “A few years back, I had some trouble in my life and also, I thought she needed me, but it hasn’t been good between us in a very long time.”

  “So you came here?”

  “I came to help my uncle. He asked me to manage his personal property, to keep an eye on things if he ever became ill or incapacitated.”

  “You could’ve done that from Raleigh, right?”

  Frannie nodded. “I could have, but I’ve felt, for as long as I can recall, that I’m waiting for something. I decided to wait here. It’s peaceful here. I can think better.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  She cast about in her brain. “Waiting for things to be right? For my life to start? Or maybe waiting to be the person I should be. Waiting to feel complete.”

  Juli shook her head. “I don’t understand, after all.”

  “Waiting for what I was missing.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “How could you? I didn’t, either. But, finally, I think I do. For years, I awakened in the night to the sound of crying. Dreams or nightmares?” She shrugged. “When I found out about Frances, I thought it was me—the memory of the young me—long forgotten, crying for her mother.”

  “I can see that. It makes sense.”

  “Except now I know better.” She dug her toes deeper into the sand. “When I found out about the second child, the one who was born when I was two, before I was returned to my father—that’s when I understood.” She pulled out her feet and the sand flew. “It’s her cry that I remember.”

  She closed her eyes to banish the threatening tears and then faced Juli. “What about you? How do you feel about the subject we’re tap-dancing around?”

  “You mean Frances?”

  Frannie nodded. “I mean our mother.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Juli stared intently at her toes, and Frannie watched her. Their feet were half-covered by warm sand. A seagull loitered nearby, hoping for a tidbit.

  Frannie dug her fingers into the sand. Perhaps seeking an anchor? Yes, she was. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. What do I do next?

  She opened her eyes slowly and caught the glint of the sun catching on a tear as it slid along the curve of Juli’s cheek. Instinctively, she reached out and touched her shoulder. Juli turned her face away.

  “I’m sorry,” Frannie said.

  Juli brushed her hand across her cheek. “Sorry? For what?”

  “For making you go through this.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I spent a lot of years telling myself that I was lucky. Lucky that the state took me away from her. That, even though it meant foster homes, still I was warm and my tummy was full. I told myself I was glad she didn’t come back and get me.”

  Juli pressed her fingers to her temples. “Don’t you understand? I came to terms with it and I was okay. More than okay—I made the best of it. I survived and made a life. This is opening the past back up, like a wound that healed. The scar faded, but the injury was never really gone. Now, I have to ask myself why she didn’t come back.

  “Do you understand, Frannie? Why didn’t she come back? Because she couldn’t? Because she… And I was glad she didn’t.

  “I have to ask
myself what I didn’t do that I should’ve. Not as a child, but when I became an adult.” Juli paused for a breath. “How did she die? Do you know?”

  “The death certificate says pneumonia, but what that means, I don’t know. Pneumonia could be the result of something else.” She took a breath and held it and then released it slowly. “I have reason to believe she was ill for some period of time before she died.” She added, “I’m going to Edenton. That’s where she’s buried.”

  Juli gasped and shook her head. “I can’t go. I have responsibilities.”

  “I understand. I didn’t know if you’d want to go, but I wanted to tell you, in case.”

  “No, really. I have to consider Danny and Luke. I mean, even if this is all true… I’d go if I could. I can’t.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Neither had yet uttered the word, ‘sister’, and it seemed almost anticlimactic to do so. Sort of stating the obvious. All of the fun stuff like figuring out how they were alike would be in the future, hopefully.

  “I’ll give you a chance to get used to this.” Frannie stood up and dusted off the seat of her pants. Some part of her hoped that Juli would stop her, would want to discuss it more now, but she didn’t. She continued huddling over her knees, as if she were grieving. Which, Frannie thought, she probably was. Finally, after all these years, Juli was officially grieving the loss of her mother.

  “Frannie!”

  She heard a voice in the distance, hard to hear with the ocean close at hand. She looked up and down the beach trying to discover who was yelling.

  “Frannie!”

  The crossover. A woman stood there, her arm raised, doing the queenly wave.

  “Laurel.” She groaned. “I’d better go speak with her or she’ll come down here and get her heels mired in the sand.” She added under her breath. “It would serve her right.”

  She remembered the paper in her shirt pocket. She held it out to Juli. “I want you to have this. It may be the last letter Frances wrote. It was to her mother and father-in-law. Our grandparents. They were in a car accident shortly before she mailed it. They never received it and she probably never knew.”

  Without turning her head, Juli accepted the letter. She stood, brushing sand from her hands.