by Grace Greene
He put off calling the client. Kilmer was on California time anyway. Meanwhile, he waited near the entrance to the Port of Call. He brushed at his shirt and knocked some sand off his shoes.
Unless he learned something unexpected at dinner, this job was done. Only the wrap-up with the client was required and that would be brief.
He would hit the road in the morning and the next day, he’d catch the flight back to California.
****
Clair
Clair arrived shortly before six. Greg was standing on the sidewalk. He walked forward to meet her as she exited the car.
“I’m glad you came,” he said.
“Did you doubt that I would?”
After a pause, he answered, “I wasn’t sure. I’m glad you did, but I wouldn’t blame you for having doubts. We only just met. I don’t have anyone local to vouch for me.”
She smiled. “Darcy approved you, remember?”
“Kids and dogs, right?”
“Absolutely.” She was walking on air—that’s how light she felt in her sundress and heeled sandals with a sweater over her arm in case it was chilly in the restaurant. Dressed up a little, feeling special, and accompanied by an attractive man—it was a nice change. She checked the state of her broken heart. It was only mildly tender. She took that as a triumph.
He held the restaurant door open for her. “After you?”
They were seated at a table with a view of Bogue Sound. The waitress took their drink orders. The sky was a mix of clear blue and white, puffy clouds. Clair thought Mother Nature might treat them to a lovely sunset. She noticed Greg was leaned back in his chair, relaxed. Funny, it was the first time she’d seen him sitting. Relaxed or not, he cast more than a few looks out the window.
“This area is new to you.”
“It is. It’s beautiful. The California coast is beautiful, too, but this…seems more peaceful. More…removed from the rest of the world.” He added, mostly under his breath and not really intending to be heard, “I keep forgetting I’m here on business.”
“That’s how it should be, I think. As for peaceful, this time of year is, but in the summer, all these houses and condos are rented by families and it gets quite hectic. That said, I’ve seen other east coast beaches in summer and compared to them, the Bogue Banks stays quite calm. It’s perfect for families. I’ve never been to the west coast.” She sipped her sweet tea. “You’re from Kansas, you said?”
“Long time ago. Not sure why I said that anyway. It would’ve been more accurate to say California by way of a lot of other places.”
“With the military?”
“True.”
“You didn’t go back to Kansas after your service?”
“They say you can’t go home again, right? Home moves on with time, and without you. The geography might still be there, but everything you remember has become part of the past.”
Her expression turned solemn. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you sad.”
“No, it’s okay. I know exactly what you mean…not about coming home after military service, but in general. I came home, too, you know. Home. And it is home. But it’s different now. I’m different. It’s different.”
They paused to give their food orders. Greg ordered salmon and she ordered shrimp. “And Sea Biscuits,” Clair added. “They’re delicious, Greg, and it’s been ages since I’ve been here.” As soon as the waitress left, Clair asked, “What do you do now? For a living, I mean.”
He took a sip of water to draw out the moment and give himself a second to think. Always best to keep it simple.
“Contracting. Related to industry stuff. Very boring.”
She frowned, then smiled. “Meaning you can’t discuss it?”
He shrugged, answering her smile with his own.
“No problem. I understand.”
“What about you?”
“Me? Nothing. I take care of Darcy. I used to work in business, but…that ended.”
Mallory had told her over the years that she, Clair, wore everything on her sleeve like a beacon—her feelings, her history, everything. Mallory said Clair trusted too easily and cared too much. Clair could’ve sworn that was a thing of the past after what she’d gone through with Sean, and yet…that old feeling was trying to return. It whispered in her ear. Why bother hiding? Be yourself. Be who are and you’ll attract people who enjoy what you enjoy.
Clair wanted to welcome the old feelings, to be herself again. She couldn’t help wishing the restaurant had music and a dance floor. An excuse to be held close and to decide whether she wanted that to continue. Because she wore her heart and words on her sleeve, she said, “You aren’t married, right? I guess I should’ve asked before.”
“No, never have been.”
Clair nodded, feeling the warmth of a blush on her cheeks, and glad that he hadn’t run in fear. Well, anyway, this whole date, had been his suggestion, so any awkwardness would be his fault, not hers.
She shrugged. “I’ve learned it doesn’t pay to take things for granted. I was engaged a while ago and it ended painfully, so I’m a little….” Mallory was right. Clair knew it. Here she was, about to blurt out the whole sad story.
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “People are…people. They aren’t always reliable or trustworthy. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“You’re leaving soon, right?” Suddenly, she felt the need to remind herself of that important fact.
He nodded. “I am. Doesn’t mean I won’t come back.”
“True.” But the word sounded small, and suddenly the fear was back, the fear of being hurt and left to pick up the pieces. Some things, like hearts, couldn’t be mended, not totally.
Greg leaned forward with his hands on the table. “May I ask something personal? It’s not idle curiosity.”
“What?”
“Darcy. What’s wrong with her? Sorry, that doesn’t sound sensitive, but I don’t know a better way to say it.”
“Our parents were older when she was born.” Clair added, “What I mean is Mallory and I were already living elsewhere when they died in a drowning accident about three years ago. Darcy hasn’t been the same since. We weren’t here when it happened. Mallory returned home to take care of her.”
He leaned forward again. “I’m sorry. Was Darcy injured in the accident?”
“No. She was nearby but not actually involved. She was on the beach alone for a long time, waiting….” Clair trembled and broke off, moving on to practicalities. “The doctors ruled out any kind of physical injury. Darcy cut herself off from the rest of the world. She was six, almost seven, and it was as if her life, her…” She searched for words. “Her social growth, her interaction with the world around her, was suspended.”
Clair stared at him. “She’s in there, and occasionally there will be a connection, like with you. And the beach. She loves the beach. Something will happen…there’ll be some tiny change and we start thinking she’ll come out of it, be herself again, but no, she goes back into this…state. They call it mutism.”
“I’ve heard of it. Seen it.” He looked away. He seemed to be staring at a boat making its way up the sound in the failing light. “It’s different for everyone…that breaking point…the last event, the one you can’t shake off and walk away from.”
She saw empathy in his eyes. “Like on a battlefield?”
“Like that. Yes.” He shook his head.
“According to the doctor and therapist, there are different kinds of mutism. For instance, with selective mutism, children go silent or have extreme trouble communicating in certain situations or with specific people, so it’s selective as to place, people or time. For Darcy, they ruled that out because she was a little shy, but otherwise fine before the accident. The medical professionals decided it was traumatic mutism caused by losing her parents. They tried different things, therapy and medication and such for a while, but it didn’t help. It seemed to drive her deeper into that world. Her world. We’re like sate
llites moving on the periphery.”
Clair pressed the corner of her napkin to her eye. She refused to cry. She cleared her throat.
“My older sister Mallory decided to give Darcy time. Time to heal. I worry though. Are we giving her time? Or are we giving up on her? It feels like we should be doing something.”
She shook her head. “One of the therapists suggested she was silent because she was seeking attention, or because she was angry. That’s when Mallory cut them out. She said Darcy wasn’t going to be anyone’s guinea pig…but I wonder….” She took a deep breath. “Sometimes I think she’s waiting…waiting for our parents to come home.” The last words barely made it past that constriction in her chest…the burning eyes. Clair blotted her eyes again and was grateful she’d gone light on the eye makeup. “Sorry.”
Greg reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I apologize for asking about a private situation and hurting you.”
She shook her head, trying to regain her control.
He continued to hold her hand. “You may be right, though. Maybe that’s why she likes the beach so much. That’s where she lost them. Maybe that’s where she thinks they’ll return.” He went silent for a few moments, then he added, “So the plan is to love her and care for her and hope that one day she’ll be her former self again?”
Clair nodded. “I know that sounds lame, but for now, that’s the plan.” She nodded, but it was those words he said…maybe that’s where she thinks they’ll return to…that she kept hearing in her ears.
The food was delivered during that conversation, but Clair hardly remembered eating. Their conversation continued as the sun set and night moved in, but it was more general, as if by unspoken consent. Inconsequential chit-chat was better for the digestion anyway. And laughter. Laughter was best of all.
“Dessert menu?” The waitress asked and they both jumped.
Clair spoke first. “I think I should skip dessert. It’s later than I realized.” In truth, it was fully dark.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. For one thing, my sister has work in the morning. She often has to start her day early. Not that she has to wait up for me, of course.”
“Of course.”
“When do you leave? Tomorrow?”
“Yes. My flight leaves out of Richmond the day after tomorrow, but early, so I’ll drive up there in the morning.”
“Your business went well, I hope?”
A slow smile crossed his face. “Well enough. Hopefully other opportunities will bring me back here soon.”
They paused on the sidewalk, his hand lightly on her elbow. He said, “I think she will.”
“She will what? Darcy, you mean?”
He nodded. “Luckily, she isn’t suffering from physical injury, so time may be the best cure so long as she keeps in touch with real life.” Suddenly, his tone changed. “I hope you don’t think I’m criticizing. I’m not a doctor, not a psychiatrist or therapist, but I was a soldier and I saw action, and you never know what will trip a person up. Strong men and women, strong hearts and courage, can hit that point, sometimes out of nowhere, and…well, they call it PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. That’s the feeling I get from Darcy. She’s a beautiful child, serene even, but I get the feeling that she’s trapped inside and looking for a way out. Sorry, I’m not saying this very well.”
“No worries, Greg. I’m not offended. We’re all doing the best we can in this life. It’s not always easy. I’ve had my own heartache and I’m sure you have, too. Darcy and I are lucky. We have each other and our sister, Mallory. We have people who love and care about us.”
“That’s worth more than you may know.”
He walked her to her car. “Any chance you’ll meet me for breakfast?”
Crazy. Just plain crazy. “I might.”
He grinned. “Where’s a good place?”
“Mike’s? Or rather, it used to be Mike’s. Now, it’s called The Trading Post. I hear it’s good.”
“How early is too early? Nine a.m.?”
Her mouth started to shape the word, yes, but then she realized she was forgetting something important.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ll have Darcy to care for in the morning.”
“Bring her. Doesn’t she like breakfast?”
“Well, yes, but restaurants aren’t in her routine, you know? She doesn’t do well if we don’t stick to the routine.”
He looked doubtful.
Clair thought of the shell.
“She seems to like you…I suppose we could try. But if it upsets her or there’s any kind of problem, we’ll slip out of there. I don’t want to attract attention. One day, she’ll be… Anyway, understand that if we need to leave, we will.”
“Agreed.”
He waited until she’d climbed into her car and then went to his own.
Clair settled in and fastened her seat belt. His words, those uncomfortable words, still echoed in her head. She thinks that’s where they’ll return. It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t occurred to Clair. It had, but not as fully formed as that bald statement. Not with the impact of hearing it from Greg.
Darcy. The beach. Most people, recognizing where their trauma, their tragedy, had occurred, would avoid any place associated with it. Clair had been grateful that Darcy didn’t seem traumatized by the beach.
It nearly broke her heart to think of it. Was Darcy’s favorite place, the place she wanted to go every day, bucket in hand, the beach because she was hoping to reclaim what she lost there? Deep inside, did she have hope that her parents would return to the last place she’d seen them?
Mallory was still up when she arrived home. She had forms spread across the coffee table in neat stacks and was assembling info packages of neighborhood comparisons, mortgage estimates and rental histories together for clients. She glanced up as the door opened and asked, “How was it?”
Clair joined her on the sofa. “It was great. Too bad he’s leaving tomorrow. Or maybe that’s a good thing.”
“You tell me. Which?”
“A little of both, I think. He invited Darcy and me to breakfast.”
Mallory gave her a look. “Really?”
“Really.”
“And you’re going?”
“I am.”
“Good. I have to say it, though. Being the older sister and all, it’s part of my job. Have fun but be careful.”
She answered lightly, “It’s breakfast at The Trading Post. I think we’ll be safe.”
“I’m talking about your heart and your head.”
Clair touched her sister’s arm wanting to reassure her. “I’ll keep that in mind. It won’t matter anyway if he never returns.”
Mallory said, “He will.”
Her elder sister was smart and in many ways, much cleverer than she was, so Clair let those two simple words, he will, settle in. Mallory might be right, but Clair didn’t have to figure it out tonight.
“Mal, I have a serious question for you.”
“Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“Do you think Darcy wants to go to the beach every day because she thinks mom and dad will return there?”
Mallory nodded. “Very possible.”
“I never thought of it quite like that. I thought…I don’t know…that she didn’t make the connection directly since they were…recovered days later. Isn’t that a bad thing, almost sick, for us to allow her to go down there, play down there, if that’s what she’s thinking? Hoping for? Isn’t it morbid? Aren’t you worried it will keep her hoping and waiting?”
“Hoping and waiting? I suppose that’s what we’re all doing. Hoping for happiness and waiting to find it. Maybe you’re right, Clair. But I see Darcy down at the beach and she seems…comforted. Should we take that away from her? Don’t you think she’ll give it up herself when she’s ready?”
“Do you?”
“I hope so. In the meantime, I can’t deprive her of what gives her comfort. To what purp
ose, anyway? To make her face reality? I think she’s already living in, and accepting, as much reality as she can.”
Mallory groaned and reached for the paper clips. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know. You can do the same for me. In the end, hopefully we’ll each find what our hearts need.”
****
Greg
Greg called his client.
He answered on the third ring. Greg heard noises, voices and general party sounds in the background. A woman was laughing, water may have been splashing, and music was playing, and then it faded away.
“Hold on.” More loudly, he called out, “Dee, I’ll be right back.”
Greg heard a soft sound like a door closing.
“Okay. What’s up? What did you find out?”
“Nothing more. I found her, as you hired me to do. She isn’t anywhere unexpected. She’s at her parents’ home in North Carolina. Beyond that, there’s nothing to know.”
Sean Kilmer responded with silence.
“She lives there with her sisters.” Greg almost mentioned that she’d referenced heartache, but a flash of insight hit him and he held it back. “There’s nothing else going on.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Hard to prove a negative, but there’s nothing to indicate she has any interest in you.”
Another long silence, then he said, “You spoke with her?”
“I did. Unavoidable.”
“I told you specifically not to interact with her. To investigate and keep a low profile. Not to do anything to make her suspicious.”
“As I said, it was unavoidable, but it’s a good thing it happened because otherwise I don’t know how I would’ve found out anything. There is nothing to find out. Three sisters living in their childhood home trying to recover from the death of their parents.” He wanted to ask his client a few pointed questions, so much that it burned in him. Plenty to investigate there, without doubt. Suddenly, he was like a dog with a scent finally sniffing out the fox—Kilmer’s real fear. Kilmer’s elegant fiancé and her wealthy father. He was sounding less like an affluent businessman and more like a weasel afraid of being caught in a vise. Did he really have anything to fear from Clair? It was hard to imagine a scenario where he might.