“Your first month's pay,” Fay had told her before giving her a hug so tight her ribs hurt. “Thank you for taking care of Pine Breezes for us.”
Someone began strumming a guitar, and Karyn glanced in the direction of the music. Brodie, heading their way, left the cluster of people around the fire.
“Well, that's my cue. Sing-a-long time. Let me know how much fabric you'll need and we'll get crackin' on that project.” Mrs. Wetherford strode back toward the fire. She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at Brodie. “Toodles.”
“Toodles to you, too,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her as he drew closer to Karyn.
She swallowed hard as she assessed his features. Hair, tousled by the wind. A strong jaw line. Dark eyes, whose expression she couldn't read. His wide shoulders filled out his shirt, emblazoned with the logo Reed Fishing Charters. Her cheeks, probably tinged with sunburn after the day outside, flamed with heat.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes, for the most part.” She continued to walk, and he fell into step beside her.
“What's not okay?”
“Another dead-end job lead.” Karyn shook her head. “I know for certain that right now, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. I prayed for direction and help, and this is my answer so far. I'm helping Uncle Virge and Aunt Fay. But, I still want to write about fashion. I did tell my parents I'm here. Couldn't keep it from them for long, of course, and they're not one-hundred-percent happy about it. . .”
Ah, she'd started rambling. But Brodie had always been easy to talk to. She'd briefly had twinges of jealousy back when he and Megan started dating senior year, but Megan's path lay here, in Virginia, while Karyn had aspirations to leave. Competing for Brodie's heart—or any other guy around here's heart, for that matter—was pointless if she didn't plan to stay.
“You're not supposed to make your parents one-hundred-percent happy. That's not your mission in life.”
“No, it's not. But I do want to do the right thing. My dad told me there's more opportunities where they are, and I can stay with them as long as I want to. But, the idea, much as I love my parents, makes me feel like I can't breathe.”
“Maybe you could do something writing and fashion-related around here, while you're stuck in limbo.” He said the word “stuck” without a shred of bitterness in his tone.
“Maybe I could. But I'm not stuck. And, I do have a fashion gig, sort of. Mrs. Wetherford is hiring me to sew her a sarong, complete with a phone pocket.”
“Well, that's interesting.”
If she continued on the fashion talk, she'd probably lose him. She had to smile at that. Now, if she brought up fishing gear, or construction, or fire fighting, he'd be hanging on her every word.
They continued on a few more paces in silence, and the last bit of twilight slid behind the dunes to the west. It dawned on her how far they'd strolled from the group in just a few paces.
“I guess we should turn around,” she said aloud.
“We don't have to corral the group, you know.”
“I know. I just like to, ah, supervise.”
“I think the Wetherfords are taking care of that right now.” He stopped on the darkened sand. “Karyn, do you not want to walk with me?”
The question made her pause as well. What kind of a question was that? He'd scarcely left her thoughts since the first night she'd seen him, and met Trista.
“No. I don't not want to walk with you. Or, I mean, I do want to walk with you.” And walk, and walk, and talk, to thoroughly catch up on the past years.
“Well, then. Let's walk.”
“All right.” She cleared her throat. “So, what about you? Fire fighter, paramedic, construction work—is there anything you can't do?”
“A French braid.”
At that, Karyn laughed aloud. “I can help you with that, if you'd like.”
“I might take you up on that.” They continued along, the gentle waves on the marshy inlet providing a soothing background noise.
She'd missed this in the city. Not that she didn't love the city, with its own rhythmic sounds, different from what met her ears at the moment.
“I'm glad you've met Trista. I know. . .” Brodie paused, and she could only their muffled footsteps through the sand, “. . .I know Megan would be glad about that, too.”
“Yes.” Karyn squeezed the word out through her constricted throat. Old tears burned her eyes. Megan.
“Oh, Brodie. . .”
Then they were stopped again, and he pulled her into his arms. A few rebellious tears streaked from her eyes, no matter how much she clenched her eyelids shut. She'd mourned Megan and everything they'd both lost. All over a stupid moment of distraction.
Brodie was solid, warm, his arms comforting. “Stop beating yourself up. Because no one else is. Maybe a long time ago. People forgive, and if they don't, they're only hurting themselves. I had to figure that out.”
“I didn't know about what happened. Not until the funeral was over and Mom and Dad moved us to College Park, while I was in the hospital.”
“I know. We talked about that. But I imagine, this place is probably bringing back a lot of stuff, huh?” His voice rumbled in his chest.
“Yup. But I'm okay. I need to be, especially if I'm going to live here for a while.” She took a slight step back, and he released her. She tried not to shiver
“Have you seen her parents yet?”
“No. I'm not sure what I'd say to them, that hasn't already been said. I figured I'll just going along. If I see them, I see them.” She didn't want to think about what it was like to lose a child, no, a young adult, with so much promise.
She turned around to face the direction of the bonfire. Its flames still licked toward the sky, and music and song still flowed toward them.
“Trista was in neonatal intensive care for months. I lost count. Was up there, every day. She was only about a pound when they took her, when Megan. . .It took her a long time catch up with her weight, and everything else.”
“She certainly seems to be doing well.”
“For the most part, yes. She has some mild cognitive delays, other things we're working through still.”
“I'm glad you have her.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what Trista's relationship was like with Megan's parents. But, not really her business. It was enough to know that Brodie had stepped up and become the father that Megan would have loved to had for her child.
“Me too.”
They drew closer to the bonfire, all too soon, it seemed like. But good thing. Something had happened back there on the darkened beach. Something had changed with her and Brodie. She wasn't quite sure what the newness was. She'd known Brodie Reed, the impulsive, gregarious teenager.
Brodie, the confident assured man in front of her? This was someone new to her altogether. She liked him more than she should, too. A lot more. And then, there was that girlfriend.
Chapter 6
Trista handed Uncle Virgil the bouquet of flowers Brodie had let her pick out at the store. “Welcome home, Uncle Virgil!”
“Oh, seeing your smiling face is one of the best parts of coming home.” The older man accepted the flowers, and Trista gave him a hug.
After one week in the hospital which included a gauntlet of tests and violations of his privacy, as Virgil had put it, he was home again.
“Thank you, thank you all,” Virgil said to those assembled at the foot of the porch stairs. Fay flitted around him like a concerned butterfly.
“Into the house and onto your chair.” She nudged him, gently.
“We were saying lots of prayers for you,” said Mrs. Wetherford. “I'm bringing over a casserole for you tonight. I'm the best RV cook on the East Coast.”
“I don't doubt you are.” Virgil chuckled. “Oh, it feels good to be home.”
Brodie glanced around for Karyn, but didn't see her. Ah, there she stood, just at the top of the stairs. Since the walk on the beach last week, they'd
maintained a delicate dance away from each other. Not that it had been a deliberate decision, but the campground kept both of them busy enough and their only real interactions had been discussing projects Brodie was working on, along with some maintenance.
But Trista had stuck to Karyn and followed her like a shadow, as she cleaned cabins, updated the daily announcement board, shopped for supplies, kept up with the activities schedule, took reservations, and cleaned the pool. Karyn didn't seem to mind the chatterbox, or Trista's hopping from one random subject to the next. Every evening, Trista came home with him, and her main subject had been everything she and Karyn had done and talked about.
The group filed to the Thomases' back patio, where someone had set up a large sheet cake and a punch bowl. The cake, covered with sugary-looking sea shells, read, “Welcome home, Virgil, Get well soon.”
“Who's responsible for this?” Virgil asked in mock disbelief when he saw the cake.
“Kar-yn, Kar-yn!” Trista called out. “And I helped her order it.”
“We just wanted to welcome you home, Uncle Virgil.” Karyn grinned, her cheeks flushed. Their flush deepened when she locked eyes with Brodie.
Okay, so she liked him. And he liked her, more than he wanted to admit to anyone, even himself. He shoved that idea aside—for now—and got in line for cake. Well wishes and encouraging words for Virgil flew around, along with offers to help at the campground.
“I'll be back up and running, well maybe not running, soon enough,” he told them. “I can go for walks, which I intend to do this afternoon after a nap.”
After the cake was cut and served, the crowd gradually dispersed, and Brodie went to find Trista. He was due to head to a committee meeting for the upcoming Pony Penning, and his mother was expecting Trista at the gallery for the afternoon.
He found her with Karyn and Fay in the kitchen. “Here for one Trista Reed. Time to go.”
“No, Daddy, I don't want to go. Karyn said we could go treasure hunting.”
“Treasure hunting?”
“I showed her my old treasure box I hid in Yellow House.” Karyn smiled, then shrugged. “I found an old coin when I was a kid, and I kept it. Trista asked if there might be more, because she wants to find enough gold to get a pony.”
Oh, the pony. He shook his head.
“Trista, can you help me bring things in from the patio?” Fay asked. She motioned for Trista to follow her, and the two left.
“She's something else,” Karyn said when it was just the two of them in the kitchen.
“I hope she hasn't been driving you crazy.”
“No, she's funny, sweet. Helpful, too.” She glanced toward the patio. “So, a pony, huh?”
Brodie tried not to sigh. “Yep. She wants Nugget, old enough to be broken and gentled. She'll be up for auction, I'm sure.”
“Are you going to bid on her?”
“Not sure. I can probably scrape up enough to bid on a lower priced pony. But some go for more than ten thousand dollars. And Nugget's a really cute pony, Trista says.” Even if he had ten thousand to throw around, he wouldn't be putting it on a pony.
“I wish I could help chip in.”
“Thanks.” He decided to say something now, before he changed his mind, and Fay and Trista came inside. “Say, we're having a barbecue, some of the firehouse crew this weekend, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. And Trista.”
Her smile widened, and she studied the floor tiles as she spoke. “I'd like that, yes. It sounds fun.”
Brodie nodded. “Good. Saturday, I'll pick you up around four. It'll go pretty late.”
“I'll be ready.”
“Bring your swimsuit. Not sure what all they've got planned, maybe out on the boat, or maybe we'll be at Assateague Island.”
She nodded, as Fay and Trista entered, carrying plates and dirty forks, along with the remains of the cake.
“Did you ask her?” Trista beamed.
“Yes, Karyn's going to the barbecue with us on Saturday night.”
“If Fay doesn't need me here.” Karyn glanced at Fay.
“Go, have some fun. You're not our indentured servant.” Fay gave Karyn a look of fondness.
“Good. I'm glad she's going. Better than that nosy old Jenny Lankford.” Trisata wrinkled her nose.
“Ah, Jenny Lankford.” Karyn raised her eyebrows and looked directly at him. He opened his mouth.
“Daddy's girlfriend,” Trista said matter-of-factly.
# #
How could she have forgotten the enigmatic Jenny Lankford? She tried to find the right words as the others remained silent. Both she and Fay stared at Brodie, while Trista placed the basket containing plastic forks on the table.
Brodie found his voice first.
“Jenny and I aren't seeing each other anymore.”
“Oh, you're not?” Fay asked nonchalantly. “You were such a nice-looking couple.”
Brodie shook his head. “Not up for an explanation.”
“No need for an explanation.” Karyn got the words out. “Really.”
“I'm glad.” Trista hopped onto a nearby stool at the breakfast bar. “She asked me questions all the time and had a screechy giggle whenever she talked to Daddy.”
“Trista, that's enough.” Brodie's voice held a firm tone.
“Yes, sir.” She hung her head.
This was just a tad awkward. Brodie fidgeted, and Karyn felt sorry for him.
“If you don't mind, Trista and I should go. We have an appointment this afternoon.”
“We do? Where are we going?”
“I'll explain in the truck.” Brodie pulled his keys from his pocket. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
He and Trista left the kitchen and Karyn could hear voices in the front of the house as they said good-bye to Virgil. She turned to face Fay.
“Well, I need to head back to my cottage, if you don't mind. I have four orders for custom-made sarongs. And a lady who runs the Seashell Boutique asked for samples to sell. I promised her I'd have them delivered before the pony festivities begin.”
“You do? That's wonderful. I did notice Eunice Wetherford's replaced her muumuu-of-the day with a lovely sarong, but I had no idea you'd sewn it.”
Karyn nodded. “I did.”
“Maybe you have the fixings there of a new business opportunity.”
“Maybe. I've enjoyed breaking out the sewing machine, so thank you for letting me use it.”
“Not at all.” Fay took a step closer. “About Brodie and Jenny.”
Karyn shook her head. “Don't worry about it. It's not like he was asking me on a date or anything. Just a barbecue with friends.”
“But that's just it. Jenny would always go with him to things like that. I thought they'd make an engagement announcement this spring, but Brodie didn't seem like he was at that point yet. And, now this.”
“This?” Karyn frowned.
“You. You're here.”
“I don't think me being here has anything to do with it.” She'd been gone for at least eight years. They hadn't kept in touch. Karyn started to continue with her protest, giving those reasons, but Fay held up her hand.
“No, it's not just you. But it is you. He's comfortable with you in a way I haven't seen him with Jenny. Sure, they had sparks flying between them.”
“Goodness, Fay, I don't want to hear.” Karyn laughed.
“Anyway, it was clear as a bell until the last few weeks. I'm not surprised if you've made him think.”
“Not purposely.” She had a flashback to the night on the beach, when he'd held her. She hadn't wanted to pull away. It had to be the ocean, the beach, the setting.
“Of course not. But with him and Trista, it's complicated. I think Jenny is well-meaning, but she can be pushy. She's a teacher, and she seems to think Trista needs help. Granted, I'm no expert on that.”
Karyn nodded. “I'm not either. Trista seems a bit young and impulsive, even for her age. I thought she was a bit spoiled. But she's a sweet k
id.”
“She might be.” Fay shrugged. “Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful time at the barbecue.”
“Well, thank you. I hope so, too.” Karyn smiled as she spoke the words and realized how much she really did mean them.
She headed back to her cottage and flipped on the floor lamp, adjusted so the light focused on the sewing machine on the dinette table. Half a dozen lengths of tropical print cotton-silk blend were arranged on the loveseat. Tonight, she felt inspired to sew the sarongs, complete with the phone pocket.
She lost herself in the work. To find the fabric, she'd had to drive to Pocomoke City, just over the Maryland border but a short twenty minutes or so away. The drive showed her how much had changed on the coast, but how much remained the same. She'd changed, too. Or was it that she'd become more of who she'd always been? The sewing, the writing, her love of the way fabric draped and hung, and how two people could take the same pattern or basic dress idea and come up with something completely different.
At not quite midnight, her phone rang. Tyler.
What could he want? She took the call, straightening her posture as her shoulder muscles complained. “Hey, Ty.”
“Hey, Kare-Bear.” Kare-Bear? “I miss you.”
“So, how have you been?” She didn't miss him. A nice man. A kind man. Successful in his own right. But not for her.
“Great, just great. I, ah, took your advice. Kelly and I have been on three dates now. I thought I'd let you know.”
“That's great.” She wasn't sorry he'd moved on, especially since she'd encouraged him to do just that. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes. But I'm on vacation this week. With Kelly. Did you know her parents have a place in the Hamptons?”
No, she didn't. “I had no idea.”
“Well, since you've done me such a favor, I thought I'd do one for you.”
She stood, working the kinks out of her legs after sitting so long on the wooden chair. “What's that?”
“Her dad, of all people, knows someone who's the editor-in-chief at the Wall Street Journal. I told him all about you at a party tonight. He's intrigued, especially since they might be having a position come open on staff, fashion section. It's only part time, to start, it sounds like.”
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