Time And Tide: A Summertime Novella

by Lynette Sowell

  Time and Tide

  By

  Lynette Sowell

  Copyright 2015

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Author's Note:

  This book is a work of fiction. While Chincoteague Island, its ponies, and its volunteer fire fighters are all very real, the characters and situations depicted in this book are not based on any actual individuals or scenarios.

  Cover Image: Blend Images, BigStockPhoto.

  Chapter 1

  The scent of saltwater made memories come rushing in and break like ocean waves. Amazing what a few deep breaths could do to someone.

  Karyn Lewis clutched her purse strap a little more tightly as she dragged her suitcase behind her, following Aunt Fay to the first guest cottage at Pine Breezes Campground.

  She remembered this one. Yellow Cottage was closest to the big main house, and she’d had the run of the place when she was a kid. The once bright yellow clapboard siding had faded to a weather-beaten shade of hard-boiled egg yolk. No, more like creamy butter.

  Not quite five hours south of Manhattan, and Karyn realized her words were failing her already. Getting laid off from the editorial staff of Couture Monthly still stung, eight weeks later. She bit her lip and watched her footing on the shell-covered path.

  Aunt Fay paused and looked at Karyn again. “I almost want to pinch you to make sure you’re really here.”

  “I’m here. Really. It’s me. No pinching necessary.” Karyn chuckled in spite of the lump in her throat. “A few weeks ago, this was the last place I thought I’d be.”

  About a hundred yards from the large main house flanked by guest cottages with RV pads and campsites beyond, the marsh grass waved at Karyn as if to greet her after years of absence.

  “Well, you’re a definite answer to prayer. Virgil had to fire the last manager we had and we’ve been in a horrible pickle around here.” Aunt Fay ran her hand through her gray hair, the humidity curling the ends into little spirals.

  Karyn didn't feel like the answer to anyone’s prayers at the moment. “I’m glad to give you a hand, at least until I get some solid job leads.” Sweat beaded on her forehead and a line of it trickled down her back. One thing Karyn did not miss about coastal Virginia was the humidity. Especially now, at the height of summer season with the fourth of July behind them now.

  Fay climbed the pair of steps to the small cottage and turned the key in the door. “You need to tell your parents what‘s going on.”

  “I know. . .I will. Eventually. Once I figure out what I’m going to do.” Karyn joined Aunt Fay inside. “Wow, this used to seem a lot bigger when I was a kid.”

  The place was a virtual time capsule, from the mini-kitchen with its pair of cabinets, hot plate, and tiny refrigerator, to the foldout day bed, small TV and couch. The board games stacked on the built-in bookshelves were the same she played years ago on rainy summer days.

  “Don’t you know? Once a kid turns eighteen, the cottages shrink two inches a year. I thought everyone knew that.” Aunt Fay’s laugh rang off the whitewashed walls. “So, about your mom and dad.”

  Karyn sighed, dragging her suitcase to stop in front of the dresser, then shoved the handle down. “They’d tell me to come stay with them. I can’t do that. I’ve never felt at home there, and the kind of writing I do doesn’t fit the D.C. area. But I can be useful here and work on my resumé without the pressure of their suggestions. Like I said, I’ll let them know when I‘ve figured everything out.”

  “Your kind of writing doesn’t really fit here, either, you know.” Fay went to the nearest window, unlocked it, and tugged on the wooden casing until the window grudgingly complied. Fresh air swirled into the room. “That’s better.”

  “You’re right. Chincoteague isn’t a fashion journalism hot spot.“Karyn frowned. “But you need help, and I need to regroup. This place was always like a second home to me. Whenever I've thought about it over the years, it's made me smile.”

  Fay swung to face her and wore a matching frown. “Then you shouldn’t have stayed away for so long.”

  “I know. It was hard. . .Every June eighteenth. . .” Karyn looked at the sparkling waters of the inlet that flowed to the Atlantic Ocean less than a mile away. “It was just better for me to get my start away from here.”

  “And so you did.” Fay patted her arm. “Now’s not the time to worry about the past, but I would love to hear all about your exciting life in New York.”

  Karyn waved off the words. “I’d rather hear about you and Uncle Virge. How’s the camp? Do you still have the slide from the pier into the water? Did you ever get the horse barn built?”

  “We had the slide until a couple of years ago.” Now it was Aunt Fay’s turn to sigh. “We had to take it down when the fiberglass cracked. Safety hazard and all. And there haven't been horses for five years now. The insurance is too expensive, for one thing.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that. I used to love those pony rides.”

  Aunt Fay went to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a box fan. “Here. You can put this in the window to pull the hot air out of the cottage. Virgil meant to get the extra window air conditioner out of storage, but he was out puttering on the grounds. I try to slow him down, but he won’t listen. Of course, he always has to be out fixing something around here.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Karyn. “This’ll work fine.” Her cell phone started ringing in her purse. She pulled it out and glanced at the display. Tyler.

  “Go ahead, take your phone call. I’m making an early supper and need to see to a few things. Gotta shuck the sweet corn and get it boiling.” Aunt Fay smiled just before she left the cottage. “We’re going to eat at five.”

  “Thanks, I’ll see you then.” Karyn nodded. She pushed the button on her phone. “Hey, Ty.”

  “Did you get there all right?”

  “Yes, about half an hour ago.” Sweet of him to call, even though she’d broken up with him. He would have a happily ever after with someone, but it wouldn’t be her.

  “I still say you should have stuck it out here a while longer. You’ve got plenty of contacts here.”

  “And nobody’s hiring. Several magazines have cut back on their staff. And you know I can’t afford to start over again. Not in Manhattan, anyway. Plus my savings are almost shot. Anyway, someone took over my half of the lease so I'd have nowhere to stay.”

  “You sure I can’t change your mind about me? I think we were great together. We can be again. You can move in with me and look for work here.”

  Karyn tried not to sigh, and set her purse on the kitchen counter. “You’re right. We were good together. But really, let’s be honest. We weren’t going anywhere.”

  “That wasn’t my fault.”

  “It wasn’t completely mine, either. I know you like Kelly, at your office. You’ve talked about her a lot lately.”

  “You know I don’t date coworkers.”

  “I know. But that’s beside the point.” Now Karyn did release a long slow breath. “I’m not sure. . .I’m not sure New York is the place for me anymore. It’s not fair to you if I’m not sure what’s going on with me right now.”

  “But to figure things out in Virginia, at a campground?” Ty sounded incredulous. “You’re not even related to these people.”

  “Well, they’re still like family. My parents consider them family, and as long as we lived in Virginia this place was like a second home to me.”

  �
��Be careful. Sometimes you can’t go home again.”

  “I’m not quite home. Not yet.”

  They said goodbye and Karyn turned the fan on, standing in front of its blast of cool air.

  Pine Breezes was tucked along an inlet just outside the town of Chincoteague proper, so unless Aunt Fay sent her on an errand, Karyn needn’t go into town. She would love to cross over to Assateague Island and see the ponies that still ran wild on the beaches. Other than that, she wasn’t here to renew friendships. No matter what Aunt Fay said.

  A soft rap sounded on the screen door. Aunt Fay waved at her. “Oh, Karyn. I thought I should tell you. We’re having guests for dinner. An old friend of yours.”

  Great. Just what she didn’t need. Karyn nodded. “So who might that be?” A handful of names sprang to mind, friends she hadn’t seen in years and a few she’d ignored on Facebook.

  “Brodie Reed.”

  So much for coming back to Chincoteague and lying low.

  # #

  “Daddy, it’s three hours till high tide, and then the full moon is tonight at one o‘clock.” Trista Reed kept up her usual chatter all the way from town to Pine Breezes. She practically bounced on the seat of the pickup. “Can I stay up? Can I? Gramps said he’d help me with the telescope.”

  “Maybe.” Brodie turned off at the sign announcing the entrance to Pine Breezes. That would be his first thing to fix for the Thomases, if the wooden structure could be saved.

  “Maybe’s not a good answer. It doesn’t mean anything.” Trista’s lip protruded.

  “Oh, yes it does.” Brodie poked her side. “It means that something. . .may. . . be. . .” He wasn’t sure he liked her tone, but also wasn’t sure how to handle her attitude. Kids spoke first, then thought about it later. Sometimes. Ha. He wasn’t much different when he was eight.

  Trista giggled. “I can see the moon up close. Real close.”

  “Well, no arguing in the morning when I get you up early. I’ve got to be back at the campground at eight.”

  “I double-super-promise I won’t.”

  “Okay, then. You can stay up with Gramps.”

  Trista squealed. “You are my best daddy ev-er!”

  With that, they pulled up to the main house of Pine Breezes. Brodie had barely turned off the ignition, when Trista flung off her seatbelt and shot from the truck.

  “Aunt Fay! Uncle Virge!” Her feet sounded like a pair of small elephants pounding up the wooden steps.

  Brodie shook his head. Full throttle was the only speed that girl knew. Lord, half the time he hardly know what he was doing with her. Mom and Dad were awesome about helping out with Trista, especially when he went on a call for the fire department. Megan’s parents pitched in sometimes, too. Or, they had until the last year or so, after Trista started getting in more trouble at school.

  He picked up his notepad and his standard contract for carpentry services before he got out of the truck. Fay and Virgil needed a lot more than carpentry work on this campground. If something didn’t happen soon, the couple’s life’s work could go the way of many family campgrounds neglected over time.

  He shut the truck door and scanned the grounds. The main pavilion’s roof needed replacement. He wouldn’t want to take refuge under that in a rainstorm. Add that to the welcome sign, along with whatever else Virge found for him to do, and he had a good month’s work.

  Brodie glanced at the row of cottages next to the main house. A lone figure stood in the side yard of the yellow one and faced toward the water. Brodie could relate to being captivated by the ocean. Chincoteague was part of him, saltwater mingled with his blood. He knew every bend in the roads over the island, every inlet that joined the Atlantic. People came and went every summer, but he along with several thousand others called this place home.

  “You’re just in time, young Mr. Reed,” a voice called out from the direction of the other shore.

  Brodie turned as Virgil Thomas approached, carrying a toolbox in one hand and a length of plywood in the other. Brodie grinned. “Mr. Thomas.”

  “Fay’s steamed some crabs, we got some corn boiling, some red potatoes too, and I think she’s got some strawberry shortcake to round everything out.” Virge set the toolbox and wood on the porch, then clapped Brodie on the back. “Hope you brought your appetite.”

  “Of course.” Brodie noticed Virge’s limp was a little more pronounced today, a remnant of a previous mini-stroke. “So, have you been up to?”

  “Had to replace a board at the dock before someone went through.” He squinted toward the west.

  “I’m looking forward to helping you spruce this place up.”

  “No, you can’t do that.”

  Brodie paused. “I’m sorry?”

  “All we got is pine here. No spruce, Mr. Reed.”

  “That’s a good one.” Brodie chuckled at the older man’s dry wit. “Anyway, Pine Breezes just needs a little elbow grease.”

  “I appreciate you coming out.” Virge glanced at the truck. “So where’s your little fireball? Did she come too?”

  “She’s already inside helping Miss Fay. Or at least I hope she’s helping.” Brodie wasn’t sure if they could give him a hand with a sudden problem he’d just encountered, relating to Trista. When summer vacation started, the school year hadn’t ended fast enough for Brodie.

  “Everything okay?”

  Brodie frowned. “Not exactly. Trista got kicked out of the summer day camp program. I'm not sure who to let her stay with sometimes, so I might need to bring her with me on the job.”

  Virgil nodded. “I’ll talk to Fay about it, but it shouldn't be a problem. We’ve always had kids running around here and we’re used to it. She’ll fit right in.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Nonsense. You’re giving us a hand.” Virgil opened the front screen door. “Mother, I’ve found a papa bear looking for his cub.”

  “Back here!” called Fay.

  Brodie entered the house behind Virgil, and slid his beloved Oakleys back on his head. His eyes adjusted to the lack of bright light inside the house.

  He wished he was a guy with money enough to help the Thomases with their home. Like Pine Breezes, their home needed a pick-me-up. Some fresh paint and refinishing the floors he could handle. The Thomases were good at making do, that was certain.

  They followed the aroma of sweet corn and Old Bay seasoning and the scent of the ocean into the large kitchen where Trista sat perched at the breakfast bar. She had a mountain of silverware in front of her.

  “I’m helping!” Trista smiled at him. Megan’s smile. Her mother had been beautiful, larger than life. And he’d loved her. Once. The older Trista got, the more she looked like Megan.

  “I’m glad. So what are all those spoons for?”

  Fay used tongs to pull ears of corn from the steaming stockpot on the retro olive green stove. “We’re having an ice cream social later tonight for the guests, so Trista is sorting through my spoons to get the short ones so we have enough for everyone.”

  “Mother, your supper smells delectable. As usual.” Virgil gave Fay’s apron string a tug and planted a kiss on her cheek.

  “Oh, Virgil.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

  “Blech,” said Trista as she sorted the spoons. “Kissing stuff.”

  “One day you’ll change your mind about that, little crab.” Virge took a peek in the crab pot.

  “Nope.” Trista shook her head.

  “You keep thinking that way, Trista,” Brodie said. Phew, the girl was only eight. He didn’t want to think about her at sixteen. He knew how he’d been at that age, and teenage boys hadn’t changed much.

  The grandfather clock in the living room started chiming the hour, and Brodie’s stomach growled in response. He could eat seafood morning, noon, and night. A bushel of crabs sounded really good right about now.

  “I’m done!” Trista proclaimed, and hopped off the stool. “Is supper ready?”

  “As soon as we
get the table set,” Fay replied. “Here. Put a plate at each place. Make sure there’s five.”

  Brodie stepped aside and let Trista carry the plates to the table. Wow, she really was growing up. They usually had dinner at Mom and Dad’s most evenings, and Mom usually had everything orchestrated. He ought to let Trista help set the table sometimes, too.

  The screen door slammed. “Hello? I hope you don’t mind if I let myself in. The door was open and—”

  A figure stood in the doorway. The woman looked familiar, her nut-brown hair crowned with large-framed sunglasses and pulled back into a ponytail. She looked cool and polished, with flip-flops that looked a bit dressy for the beach. Her blue tank top matched the bracelets that clinked on one wrist.

  Trista dropped the plates and screamed.

  Chapter 2

  Karyn flinched, as did everyone else in the kitchen. Shards of white dinner plate flew across the floor, a few of them nipping at her bare ankles.

  “Now look what you made me do!” A little girl in denim shorts, white t-shirt, and braided blonde hair faced her, hands on hips. “You scared me.”

  “Trista, you were the one who dropped the plates,” Brodie Reed said. “We all knew someone was coming down the hall.”

  Or at least Karyn assumed this was Brodie Reed. Brodie in the flesh, six inches taller than she remembered and a good thirty pounds heavier, and most of that muscle. Same sandy colored hair and blue eyes surrounded by a tan line from hours of wearing sunglasses out in the sun.

  His gaze flicked to hers, and she tore her attention from him back to the pieces of plate all over the floor. Really, the little girl’s reaction was a little out of proportion to Karyn’s arrival. She’d called out from the front of the house and gave everyone full warning she’d arrived.

  Full warning. Which was scarcely more than she’d had in learning that Brodie would be the Thomases’ dinner guest.

  “I know, I know,” Trista grumbled.

  “Here, honey,” Fay came with a dustpan and broom. “You’ll cut your fingers on the pieces of plate, and your fingers will sting when you crack open your steamed crabs.”