Time And Tide: A Summertime Novella

by Lynette Sowell

  Karyn looked down at her ankles. A few minor cuts dotted the tops of her ankles. “Do you have a napkin, Aunt Fay?”

  “Right here, Karyn.” Virgil grabbed one from the napkin holder on the table.

  “Karyn,” Brodie said as he took the napkin from Virgil and handed it to her. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It was an accident. I probably would have done the same thing when I was her age.” She tried to smile as she accepted the napkin from Brodie.

  “Wow. Karyn Lewis.” He took a step back and regarded her. “It’s. . .it’s been a long time.”

  Karyn looked at Fay, showing Trista how to sweep the shards of plate into a dustpan. “Yes, that it has. I’m, um, here for the summer, giving the Thomases a hand.”

  “Oh, pish-posh, don’t call us that,” said Uncle Virgil, going to the cabinet and pulling out more plates. “We sound like a couple of old people who should be propped up in motorized scooters.”

  This made her grin. “All right, then. I’m here giving Aunt Fay and Uncle Virge a hand. Pine Breezes is a special place.”

  “I agree with you on that.” Brodie glanced a Trista, who appeared to be enjoying thoroughly sweeping each particle of broke plate from the floor.

  She looked up at him, her braids swinging. “I’m doing good, Daddy, aren’t I?”

  Daddy?

  If Karyn had been holding plates just now, she’d have dropped them too and screamed. Daddy?

  The little girl couldn’t be any older than eight. Which meant--

  Trista flashed Megan’s smile at Brodie.

  Karyn gulped down some air, then leaned over to dab at the small nicks on her ankles. Why hadn’t anyone told her? She’d known Megan had been pregnant, that Megan and Brodie had been inseparable senior year. They were talking about a wedding after graduation, sometime that summer before Brodie and Megan would start classes at Salisbury State University that fall semester. Karyn would go on to Columbia University in New York, on a scholarship. They would e-mail each other as much as possible. That had been the plan.

  They and their other friends at Chincoteague High had everything about life figured out, as much as teenagers could. And then June eighteenth happened.

  The others chattered about supper and fresh plates, and didn’t everything smell delicious? Trista kept apologizing, and Fay and Virgil reassured her all would be well, that she could do all the dishes for the next month to make up for breaking dishes. But Virgil winked as he said that.

  Brodie didn’t say much either as he slid onto the chair across from her. Even with Aunt Fay’s warning that Brodie was coming for supper, the fact that he was now sitting across from her, after all this time, made her head swim. She’d refused to let herself imagine this moment over the years.

  “Here we go,” Virgil proclaimed as he set a platter of steamed blue crabs in the center of the table. Aunt Fay brought the corn and a bowl of potatoes, plus a plate of butter.

  “Now, time to say the blessing,” pronounced Aunt Fay. They joined hands around the table, large enough for six but occupied by five.

  Brodie took Karyn’s hand as Uncle Virgil said grace over the meal. Brodie’s hand was warm, strong, callused. He didn’t grip her hand firmly, nor did he hold it loosely as if he were afraid to break it. Completely unresponsive, which was fine. She still struggled to process the fact she and Brodie—and Megan's daughter—were all together. The baby had lived.

  After the amen, Aunt Fay started passing plates, and Virgil started telling Brodie about the newest outboard motor he’d seen at the boat shop.

  “Yum-oh!” said Trista as she snatched an ear of corn from the plate. “Just like Rachael Ray would say.”

  “Trista’s a big Rachael Ray fan,” Brodie explained. “She gets to watch her cooking show after her homework’s done. It doesn‘t matter if they're reruns, Trista loves them.”

  “I want to go to New York and meet her someday.”

  “Karyn here lives in New York,” Uncle Virgil said.

  Brodie said, “I’m sorry. I should have introduced Trista to Karyn.” He smiled at his daughter. “Trista, this is Karyn Lewis. She used to live here and went to school here with me and all my friends when we were your age.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Trista,” Karyn said around the lump in her throat. She looked from Trista to Brodie, hoping her expression still didn’t reflect shock. He gave her a slow nod. Okay. So he’d explain later.

  “Do you know Rachael Ray?” Trista asked. Brodie wore the look of a proud father.

  “Nope, I sure don’t. New York’s a pretty big city. And, I lived in Brooklyn before I came here.” The kid wasn’t shy, Karyn would give her that.

  Trista piled two ears of corn on her plate, but when Brodie grunted and cleared his throat, she put one back. “That’s too bad, because she’s a really good cook. It’s good if friends are good cooks. Can you cook?”

  “Sometimes, on a good day.” Karyn eyed the plate of crab. She hadn’t eaten freshly steamed blue crab in forever. She picked up the small wooden mallet and started working on the crab in front of her. As if her fingers remembered when she didn’t, she started peeling the crab and coaxing every morsel of meat from inside it.

  “Oh, Mother, Brodie here asked us if we could give him a hand for a while,” Virgil said around his bite of crab.

  “What do you need?” Aunt Fay asked.

  Brodie finished chewing his corn on the cob, and a bit of butter dribbled on his chin. Karyn nodded at it, and he dabbed it with his napkin. She thought his eyes gave a friendly glint, but the sparkle vanished as soon as she glimpsed it. “Well, it’s about Trista.”

  At the mention of her name, the little girl ducked her head. She picked up her cup of water and took a sip. “I got in trouble and now I can’t go back to day camp.”

  “I need to work during the day, and sometimes I don’t have anyone to watch Trista,” Brodie said, and gave Trista’s braid a gentle tug. “Not just yet. I don't need help every day.”

  “Well, I have plenty around here that Trista can help with,” said Aunt Fay. “And I’m going to need help with the pony patrol, too. Does she have a bicycle? If not, we can probably scrounge up one around here.”

  “Oh, Daddy, can I?” Trista looked at him with pleading eyes. “Then I can pick one out.”

  “One what?” Brodie looked at Karyn then shot a glance at the ceiling, as if begging for mercy from above.

  “My pony,” she said as if she shouldn’t have to explain. “You know I want a pony.”

  “It looks like the horse-crazy bug bit her early,” Karyn observed. She knew the feeling and cherished that long-ago memory. “I used to want a horse, too, Trista.”

  “Did you ever get one?”

  Karyn shook her head. “No. They’re a lot of work, and my parents weren’t able to buy one for me. I did ride for quite a while, up until I started college.” And recovered after a head injury and two broken legs.

  Brodie nodded. “I remember that. You and Megan and Carmela, and the other girls used to drive us nuts with the horse stuff.”

  “Ha.” Karyn cracked a crab claw with her mallet. “You took a few lessons yourself in junior high, trying to impress somebody. I don’t remember which one of us it was. Either that or you were trying to show us anyone could do it.”

  For the first time in years, the wink of Brodie’s elusive dimple appeared, then vanished. “You’re probably right.”

  “Megan was my mommy’s name,” said Trista. “Did you know my mommy, too?”

  Brodie set down his ear of corn and stared at Karyn.

  # #

  The sun slid down toward the western horizon, and Brodie slipped his sunglasses into place. Next to him on the Thomases’ porch, Karyn did the same. Inside the house behind them, the sounds of running water and voices told them a dishwashing marathon was in progress. Karyn had volunteered to help, but Fay sent her outside with Brodie.

  “Guess you need an explanation,” Brodie said, breaking th
e silence. “Karyn, first off, I had no idea you didn’t know about Trista.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t know. But you don’t have to explain, not right now. If you don‘t want to. ”

  “I’d rather you hear the story from me, not anyone else.” He didn’t mean for his voice to sound gruff, but there it was.

  “Thank you. When I saw Megan’s smile, on Trista’s face. . .“ Karyn glanced at the rocking chairs on the porch. “Mind if we walk? I can’t sit still. I had about a five-hour drive, then sitting through dinner. I need to walk.”

  “Sure.” Brodie gestured to the steps. “I need to see the lay of the land. Virgil wants me to work on some repairs around here, but I think it needs more work than he’s letting on.”

  “I didn’t know about Trista.” Karyn shook her head as they descended the steps. “I was in the hospital in Salisbury, missed the funeral. I finally woke up. But you know that.”

  “Then your family moved.” Brodie paused at the water’s edge. “I can’t believe your parents didn’t tell you.”

  “Maybe they wanted to spare me the extra pain. Not that Trista was a pain. But I’ve assumed all this time, that Megan lost her baby.”

  “Nope, obviously she didn’t.” Brodie tore his focus from the calming movement of the water to the woman standing next to him. Karyn’s eyes, dark as warm chocolate, were shielded by her sunglasses as she looked out at the water. She’d matured into a beautiful woman. But then he wasn’t surprised. She and Megan, the prettiest girls in his graduating class. Two friends he’d torn around town with, along with their other friends.

  And one day he’d woken up and realized Megan stood out from them all. They hadn’t planned on her getting pregnant, though. Most kids their ages didn’t. If he’d known he would have ended up raising a motherless child, he would have drawn some lines, regardless of how irresistible he found her. But then, most kids their age didn’t think about consequences, just the moment. He prayed every day for the grace to do right by Megan’s daughter.

  He finally found his voice again. “I was going to give her a ring, you know.”

  “Brodie,” Karyn said as she linked her arm through his. Her full lips quivered, then settled into a firm line. “I know. Megan. . .she suspected you were ring shopping. She said you’d told her you couldn’t afford one and you could only get married with plain gold bands, but she knew. . .she knew you were figuring out how to get her a diamond.”

  “Yup,” was all he could say now. Silence loomed between them.

  “Trista’s a cute kid. She’s a real character.” Karyn withdrew her arm and crossed both of them over her chest. “A little miracle.”

  “That she is.” He wanted to skip stones, but couldn’t find any. He jammed his hands into his pockets.

  “So, how’s your mom and dad? Your brother?”

  “They’re doing great. Dad’s still fishing, mom’s still making her art. She has a gallery in town now. Jared lives in Virginia Beach with his wife. Met her at Wallops—they're both engineers, and they got married and moved to Virginia Beach. They’ve got two girls. Trista likes her cousins, but they’re not quite old enough for her to really play with yet.”

  At this, Karyn laughed. He forgot how pretty her laugh was, how warm. She smoothed her hair back, rich as dark mahogany, her bracelets clicking together. Then her expression resumed its serious tone.

  “Megan’s family?”

  “They’re doing all right. Katie and Brent are both married, both have kids, so the whole clan has a blast together.” Funny how Megan’s parents seemed to forget Trista sometimes. Maybe it was painful for them to see her, but still, she was their granddaughter too.

  “I’m. . .I’m happy for them.”

  “So. Why are you really here?” Brodie eyed her, and she stared straight back at him. “You left and never came back. Never called, never e-mailed. And now here you are.”

  “I know. There were so many times I wanted to. After physical therapy, then finally starting college, I figured it was better not to.” At this, she frowned. She slipped her sunglasses back to the top of her head. The brown eyes she stared at him with were rimmed with red. “No, my mom figured it was better. With Dad’s promotion and transfer to Goddard, they decided to make a break.”

  “I see.” He wasn’t sure if he did see. Brodie gritted his teeth together. They’d all mourned for Megan, worried themselves sick about Karyn after the accident. Then his hands were full, literally, with a baby. But after as many years as Karyn had been a part of Chincoteague, for her to just leave—

  “I’m sorry.” Karyn moved closer to the water’s edge. “I’ve said that a million times. I’m sorry. I went on, finished college, got the dream job I always wanted.”

  “But you’re back here now.”

  She nodded. “I lost my job about eight weeks ago. Cutbacks. I tried to find something, but it seems like every door I tried to push through kept slamming shut. The D.C. area wasn't an option, even with Mom and Dad there.”

  “So here you are.”

  “Aunt Fay and Uncle Virge need help. And I can have some peace and quiet to figure things out.”

  “Do me a favor. Don’t just leave again without saying anything.”

  “Well, it’s not like I really had a choice at the time,” Karyn murmured. She rubbed her bare arms.

  He opened his mouth to tell her she did have a choice. She could have picked up the phone at some point and called. But then, so could have he. And here they were, the pile of excuses between them growing like a pile of stinking empty crab claws.

  Footsteps on the grass made them turn. Trista bounded toward them. “Daddy, dessert’s ready! And I helped wash all the dishes.”

  Every time she made her big entrance, Brodie couldn’t help but smile, even if disaster lay in Trista’s wake. She didn’t mean to be clumsy.

  His phone buzzed at his hip. A text from Jennifer: Where are you? Did you forget dinner?

  Good grief. He thought he’d made plans with Jennifer for dinner on Saturday, not Friday. He’d have some apologizing to do.

  “Hurry! We need to get home in time for me to help Gramps set up the telescope.” Trista tugged on his hand. Karyn just stared at both of them.

  Women. Pulling a man in a dozen directions. It just wasn’t right.

  Chapter 3

  Karyn opened the screen door of Yellow Cottage the next morning and smiled. A quartet of children bounced by, beach towels slung over their arms. Two women followed them, and waved at Karyn.

  “Great ice cream social last night!” the blonde one called out. “But it took the kids two hours to wind down after we got back to the camper.” They both laughed and continued on their way.

  “That’s all right, it’s summer,” her friend said. “They would’ve been up late anyway.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Karyn replied. She took a sip of her coffee. Thankfully, Aunt Fay still had some regular coffee on hand. This morning, Karyn needed something high octane.

  Last night she’d scooped so much ice cream, she could feel its sweetness sticking to her hands. The event gave her a chance to see most of the visitors at the campground, or at least the ones who loved ice cream. Brodie and Trista had left at one point. Over time, she relaxed more without their presence at the campground.

  Here came Fay from the big house. She clutched an insulated plastic coffee mug, and wore sensible plaid capris with a coordinating top and sturdy sandals.

  “You ready for your tour, Miss Karyn?”

  “I sure am.” Karyn made sure her key was in her pocket, then turned the lock on the door handle.

  “Days were, we didn’t need to lock the doors at Pine Breezes. Guess times have changed,” observed Aunt Fay. “You already saw the pavilion last night, where we had the ice cream social. That hasn't changed.”

  A red truck was parked beside the pavilion, an open-air covered structure framed by four stout pine pillars, and a solitary back wall that served as a stage. There was Brodie, p
ulling an extension ladder off his truck. He propped the ladder against the pavilion’s roof, and waved at them.

  “That boy’s a hard worker. I had my doubts about him sometimes back in the day.” Fay smiled and waved. “But he’s turned out all right. Fatherhood’s helped him grow up.”

  “He seems like he’s ready to tackle that roof.” Karen downed some more coffee. She should have brought a covered plastic mug for it, but she hadn’t looked through the small cabinet of dishes to find one.

  “First thing on his list. I know he’s a slick one, though. Virgil’s going to make sure he doesn’t undercharge us. We might not have much, but we plan to pay a fair price for what work we do have done.”

  “I understand.”

  They continued along to the pool area. Already the sun had heated the paved path and promised a hot day. A woman somewhere between Fay’s age and Karyn’s stood at the pool’s edge, demonstrating exercise moves to a group of ladies in the pool. Peppy music with a Latin beat bounced off the pool house walls.

  “Fay!” a shrill voice called from the pool. “Is that your niece?”

  “Sure is. Got here last night right before supper.”

  “Well, bring her in so we can meet her. We’re about done here. ”

  The instructor stopped moving and turned off the music. “Good workout, ladies.”

  Karyn followed Aunt Fay through the fence that surrounded the pool. She didn’t dare mention that the pool seemed a lot smaller than she remembered. Time had cranked on, she was well aware.

  “Monday through Saturday mornings we have an aqua exercise class from eight until nine. And this crew here are the regulars.” Fay gestured to the women climbing from the pool and toweling dry. “I try to join them when I can.”

  “This is the best exercise I’ve ever done. My knees don’t bother me at all in the pool,” said one woman wearing a hot pink swimming cap. Karyn didn’t realize they still made rubber swimming caps.

  “Ladies, this is Karyn Lewis,” Fay said. “She’s a CHS grad, come back to give us a hand this summer, all the way from New York City.”