Destiny Lingers

by Rolonda Watts

  “I’ll be fine, Hopey,” I reassure her. “I’m home. I feel much safer here than anywhere else right now. Don’t worry.”

  “Well, at least you’re out of that brownstone of doom for a while. Have you even heard from that motherfucker, Garrett lately?”

  “No,” I reply. “I think he’s too ashamed. It doesn’t matter. As Dr. Katzenberg says, it’s time to move on with my life. I have no control over what Garrett does anyway. I only have control over myself.”

  “Clearly, you can’t control Garrett,” Kat hisses. “Garrett can’t even control Garrett! Dr. Katzenberg is right. Move on with your life.”

  “And you are doing it very nicely,” Hope adds. I can feel her warm hug through the phone. “We are so very, very proud of you, Dee.”

  “I love you guys,” I gush into the phone, at the point of tears. “Thanks again for checking in on me.”

  “You be good!” Hope says. “Call us if you need anything.”

  “I will,” I assure her.

  “Call us if you get anything!” Kat teases. “And kiss Chief Adonis for us!”

  And with that, my angel girlfriends are back to their busy lives in the bustling boroughs of New York City. Another place, another home that already seems so far away—light-years away from where I am today.

  I wonder what Garrett is doing back in New York—what my husband might be thinking, what he talks about with his lover, Eve, these days after they practically destroyed my life. Those worrisome thoughts slowly dissolve as the image of a golden and glistening Adonis glides across my mind. He smiles. I melt. And that one dream alone makes me feel far better than any of the realities of Garrett.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I am not in the mood to grocery shop, so I decide to have dinner at the Mainsail Restaurant, one of the more upscale offerings on the island. Locals boast about the Mainsail’s great seafood, steak, and pasta menu. It’s back-porch dining area is considered by many islanders as the best spot on the sound for watching the sunset, to enjoy a good meal, and to watch an occasional crane mate. The sound scene is lovely in its serenity—tall cattails waving in the soft breeze, a mosquito creating a ripple on the smooth water, a hungry fish splashing in the distance.

  I decide to have dinner on the popular back porch. I plan to enjoy a cold, crisp glass of wine while contemplating my future. I need to check in with myself as my soul rests in the bosom of Topsail.

  “Hi, there. Here’s your menu. What can I getcha ta drink?” A robust waitress with a strong southern twang stands there before me, pen and pad ready.

  “I’ll have a chardonnay, please,” I answer.

  “Coming right up, hon. Oh, and our special today is crab and shrimp stuffed flounder with a special sauce.”

  “A special sauce?” I am curious, remembering that old saying that if you stand still long enough down here, they’ll either fry you or pour a sauce on you.

  “I think it’s a butter-and-lemon–based special sauce.”

  Ah, yes, and they’ll pour butter on you too.

  “Sounds good. I’ll try it.”

  “Alrighty then. Your chardonnay is coming right up.”

  I settle back into the country porch chair that faces the sound and smile as I welcome the sun as my guest. She is just settling down after a long day of shining. She is such a warm friend. I close my eyes and let her baste me in her golden rays as she keeps me company.

  The restaurant is quaint and country—lots of decorative blue and white china plates hung and displayed on the walls, with preppy-dressed patrons wandering in for a nice supper after a long day at the beach. The walls are painted forest green with dark wood accents, surprisingly different for a shore restaurant. Seems that Bobby Lee Martin, the Mainsail’s owner, wanted to offer a more elegant alternative to the typical seashells-and-nets beach decor. He achieved a special look for his restaurant that separates his from the others, as does the sound from the sea.

  “Well, it’s ’bout time you got a day off there, Chief!”

  I jump when I hear the waitress say “Chief.”

  “What happened? Missy not cooking for you again tonight?”

  “Aw, now Laverne Jones, you know Missy and how she feels about the kitchen. Naw. She and her sister ran off shopping in Charlotte again this weekend.”

  “You tell that girl that she don’t keep a man by shopping in Charlotte. She better start cooking on Topsail. Not that we mind feedin’ you, Chief. C’mon, I got you your favorite table just in time for the sunset. Getcha a cold beer?”

  “Sure, Laverne. Thanks.”

  Chase sits at the table opposite me on the other side of the porch. I feel like I am going to melt into the wicker of this chair. He is in civilian clothes—khakis and a light green cotton shirt that shows off his brilliant sea-green eyes. It must be his day off. It looks like he just had his sun-kissed hair cut into a cool military crew-cut look. His face is tanned and glows a bronze sheen as he takes his seat, closes his eyes, and, just like me, inhales the sunshine. I sit here, suspended in time, staring at the man who takes my breath away. The sun has even kissed his eyelashes.

  Laverne bursts through the door with a tray holding two ice-cold glasses—one of chardonnay and the other filled to the brim with tap beer.

  “Here ya go, darlin’.” She smiles as she places the chilled wine in front of me. She is blocking my view of Chase. “That special is on the way too. Can I getcha somethin’ else?”

  I’m thinking, Uh, yeah, I’ll take that fine—and very alone—police chief over there. He’ll do. But I just smile and say, “No, thank you,” and pray I know what to do when she moves her round body and Chase finally sees me.

  “Okie doke. Well, you just let me know,” she offers. “I’m Laverne.”

  “Thank you, Laverne.”

  She turns and walks away to the other side of the porch, where she plops down Chase’s beer and starts up another conversation with him about the crab-and-shrimp–stuffed flounder with the special lemon-butter sauce. Laverne’s aproned body is still hiding me from his view, but I can hear him and their conversation. He updates her on his mother, who’s doing well and busy in her tomato garden, and Missy, who I remember is the girlfriend, and her never-ending shopping sprees. He marvels at the sound, which Chase proudly claims is the best-kept secret in the Carolinas. I have to agree.

  Laverne blushes and giggles, obviously another doting fan of our very handsome police chief.

  “I’ll try that special,” he decides.

  “All right, Chief,” Laverne gushes. “Let me go put your order in. That’s two specials, comin’ up, and—” Laverne suddenly stops short and playfully points to both of us on either end of the porch. “Y’all are just gonna love Bobby Lee’s special today! And that sauce—mm-hm! It’s gonna make you swaller yer tongue!”

  Chase and I both laugh at Laverne’s passionate testimony as she walks back into the restaurant, leaving us alone and finally face-to-face. Our shared laughter slowly melts into the recognition of our shared truth. We are alone again together.

  “Destiny?” Chase looks surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  “Yep, I’m back.” I blush.

  “Well, what … what in the world are you doing back here so soon? I thought you were up North in the big city, fightin’ crime.” Chase’s eyes light up. “You didn’t let me know you were coming back.”

  Chase starts to get up from his table. As much I want to see him, I cannot possibly tell Chase how screwed up my life is right now.

  “I just needed a break,” I say as I stand to greet my old friend and neighbor.

  “Well, welcome home.” Chase hugs me, and I feel a strong and undeniable surge of energy between us. “You mind if I join you? I’m eating alone—you’re eating alone.”

  “Sure,” I reply. “No need in our yelling across the tables at each other, huh?�
��

  “Nope, no need.” Chase grabs his place mat, beer, and utensils and sneaks over to my table. “Let’s see if Laverne notices,” he whispers.

  I chuckle as he takes a seat. “I am sure she will.”

  The sky is turning orange as the sun starts her sunset symphony. Everything seems to come to a sudden stillness, including Chase, me, and the other patrons of the Mainsail. We all sit in our special spaces, suspended in silence and time as we stare at the sunset, each of us in awe of her majesty. I marvel at how close we are to God in this moment and to our ancestors.

  I break the silence. “I remember sitting on my grandpa’s porch, watching the sunset over the sound with Aunt Joy.” I feel my eyes well up with tears. I miss her so much.

  Chase takes a long, hard look at me. His eyes are full of concern. “Destiny,” he starts, “I want to tell you how sorry I am that you lost your aunt Joy. She was a great lady. I know how hard it was for you. She loved you very much. If I can help you in any way—”

  “Chase, you have already helped me in more ways than you know. Thank you so much for being there for me at the funeral and for all of your calls. It meant so much to me.”

  “I didn’t hear back from you. I was worried about you.”

  “So much in my life is falling apart right now, Chase. Aunt Joy’s passing certainly didn’t help.”

  “Well, Dee, I will always be here for you. I promise.” It was the same promise this man named Chase made to me when he was a boy named Chip, and sadly, I barely believe in promises anymore.

  “Thank you,” I reply, fighting back tears.

  “Destiny,” Chase interjects, “why do you suppose I keep running into you?”

  “I dunno. Maybe it’s—”

  “Destiny?”

  I feel my heart drop twenty stories as I fall deeper into Chase’s spell. Perhaps he is right. Maybe it is our destiny to be here at these moments, time and time again, together. All I know is that there’s no place in the world I’d rather be right now than right here on Topsail Island with my long-lost childhood friend. Maybe we are right here again because we prayed for each other.

  Chase and I spend the next three and a half hours talking about our lives—how he is still holding off on an engagement with Missy, how I discovered Garrett’s affair, and how much has changed on Topsail Island since the childhood friendship we had to share in secret, not so many years ago, under this very brush where we sit together now by the sound. It was the one secret place we could play together without reprimand or consequences for being together—black and white.

  “Do you remember that strange little cabin that used to sit right back there in the sound on the water?” I ask Chase. “I think we used to call it ‘the old potato house’ ’cause somebody left a sack of potatoes in there. Why somebody would just leave a sack of potatoes, I have no idea!”

  Chase chuckles for a long time, shaking his head. He smiles a mysterious smile and leans toward me. “Yes, I remember that potato house very well, Miss Destiny. I’d really like you to see it today. How’s your morning looking tomorrow?”

  “Oh, I’ll have to check my busy schedule.” I tease.

  “How about I pick you up at 10:00 a.m. sharp? I have something I’d like to show you—a little tour of your old stompin’ grounds. How about that?”

  “That would be wonderful.”

  Chase insists on picking up the check and then escorts me out to my car.

  “Yeah … well …” Chase sighs and kicks at the gravel. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Okay. Sounds good to me,” I say.

  “Hey, in fact …” Chase flashes a mischievous grin. “You can join me on assignment.”

  “Wait a minute,” I reply as I hop in my car. “On assignment? What assignment?”

  “Just be ready tomorrow, girlie,” he teases.

  “Sounds like I’m back in the newsroom.”

  “Naw, little lady,” Chase says with a snicker. “You’re a long way from that newsroom. See you in the morning, New York—bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

  “All right, I surrender.” I feel myself blushing. “See you in the morning.”

  I honk my horn good-bye and pull out of the Mainsail’s driveway. I am simply dumbfounded by all that has happened over the past few hours—how much Chase and I have finally caught up and how much we still share, despite our many years apart, living tremendously different lives. I also find it promising that I will see my old friend again in the morning sun. And I cannot wait. For the first time, in a long time, I sing my heart out to the radio all the way home.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I have not been this excited about anything in a long time, but I admit, I so anticipate Chase’s Topsail tour this morning that I get up at the crack of dawn. After checking in with Mother and Daddy, convincing them that I made it here safely and am doing much better, I take my coffee and a walk on the beach to get my head together. The cool sand beneath my feet feels invigorating; the new day’s sky, inspiring, as it’s going to be another beautiful day on Topsail, especially spending this morning with Chase.

  I decide to wear my yellow sundress and white sneakers. I grab my straw hat and sunglasses and toss them inside my beach bag. I have no idea where Chase is taking me, much less what my “assignment” might be, but I am ready and excited for this unexpected adventure with him.

  Ten o’clock sharp, I hear wheels crunching down the driveway. It is Chase in a big red pickup truck. I feel a rush of heat as I watch him getting out of his vehicle. Tight Wrangler jeans. Cowboy boots today. I see why they say, “Girls go nuts for Wrangler butts.”

  “Good mornin’. You ready to go?” Chase asks as he opens the passenger door for me.

  “Yessiree,” I reply. “And you sure picked a nice day for a Topsail tour.”

  “Any day’s a nice day for a Topsail tour,” he replies. “It’s a southern paradise we have down here. I think you’re in for some real surprises today, lady.”

  I need this pleasant escape more than Chase knows.

  We hop in his truck and head out for our day of sightseeing. We visit the historic Jolly Roger pier, the refurbished marina, but it is when we head toward our favorite marshes from childhood that lead to the sound that I become anxious. Chase turns the truck onto a dirt road leading underneath the dense marsh trees. I remember running barefoot down this road as a little girl, many moons ago. The bright sunshine gives way to shadow now. Then Chase stops the truck and cuts the engine.

  “Okay, you gotta close your eyes before we go any further,” he says.

  “What?” I ask, a bit flustered by the request. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Just close your eyes, you’ll see. I have a nice surprise for you.”

  “I can’t close my eyes and see at the same time,” I joke.

  “Aw, c’mon, girlie, just close your eyes.”

  “Okay, okay.” I surrender.

  Chase starts up the truck again and begins driving deeper into the marsh woods. The road is bumpy and the shade and breeze are cool. After a few minutes, he stops the truck again.

  “No peeking, now,” he sternly warns as he helps me out of his truck, holding me gently by the elbow and leading me to somewhere mysterious. I sure like him holding my elbow like this.

  “All right, here we go. You can open your eyes now.”

  I slowly open my eyes and start to focus. I cannot believe what I see. There before me is what looks like the old potato house, except is has been renovated into a beautiful waterfront home, complete with a huge wraparound porch.

  “Oh, my God!” I exclaim. “Oh, Chase! Is that really the old potato house?”

  Chase is standing there quite proud, as well as amused by the absolute shock, awe, and surprise on my face.

  “Yep, that beauty right there was at one time an old abandoned shac
k fulla taters.” We both laugh till it hurts at the absurdity of it all.

  “But who lives here now?” I ask, still awestruck. “Who turned our potato house into a home?”

  “I did,” replies Chase. “As soon as I had some savings put together, I bought this land. They asked me if I wanted them to tear down the house. I thought about all the good times I had back here as a kid and how I’d always imagined it being a real home one day. I couldn’t let anybody destroy it. This little ol’ shack holds too many memories for me. Too many hopes and dreams.”

  “Well, it’s certainly not a little ol’ shack today, Chase. Look at it! It’s so cool you even got that wraparound porch you dreamed of.”

  “Yep.” Chase chuckles and shakes his head. “Sure did. And I got you. Come on. Let me show you inside.”

  Chase takes my elbow again as we climb the stairs to the house. With each step we take, I feel that much closer to Chase. Being inside his home, I get even more of an insight on who this marvelous man is. His heart and soul are in this house, and he takes tremendous pride in having restored it himself. It is a wide-open space with light oak floors and two small bedrooms off to the side. The kitchen is located behind a bamboo bar, and from the number of pots and pans hanging overhead, the man obviously cooks.

  “Would you like anything? Something to drink, maybe? I’ve got some sweet tea.”

  “Sure,” I say. “I’d love some sweet tea. We don’t get a lot of that in New York. I miss it. Thanks.”

  I watch Chase as he moves around his kitchen, preparing our refreshments. He is so drop-dead gorgeous. He pays the greatest attention to even the smallest detail. With two tall glasses brimming with sweet tea and clinking with ice, Chase leads me out to the front porch.

  “Wait just a minute, before you take a sip,” he says as he turns to hop down the front porch stairs. I can’t take my eyes off those jeans. Chase walks down the side of the stairwell, stops, stoops, and then disappears from view. What in the world is he doing? Suddenly, Chase’s head pops up, this time sporting a wide grin as he joyfully dangles a clump of freshly picked mint leaves.