Jer scrambled from my arms and splashed into the water, twisting that heart in my gut a little more. Len scooped him up, licks of white foam glancing off their legs and arms, and into the air.
Steve Sr. whipped him with several man pats to the back. “You’re a natural, all right. We were expectin’ you to take the polar bear plunge out there, but man you surprised us.”
Len grinned and shook his locks like a long-haired dog after a dip in the pool.
I flinched. “Great. Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome.” He laughed and swiveled his face to Jer’s. “You wanna try surfing too?”
I lurched toward them, reaching for our son. “No way.”
Steve Sr. scoffed. “You have to start them young, Mom.” He poked his hand into the air above him, motioning about who knows what, and waved his wife toward him. She’d already gone back to their beach setup to pick up her knitting, and I cringed at the way she hastily set it back into her bag and jumped from her chair.
“Here you are.” She caught up to us, her voice slightly winded, the tiniest life vest I’d ever seen dangling from her forearm. “This one should fit him just fine.”
“That a wet suit?” Jer scrambled to the ground and took it from the woman’s grasp.
Len squatted next to him and guided his arms into the slots. “Nope. It’s a life vest and it’ll help you since you probably don’t swim yet.”
Was that pause at the end of his sentence directed at me and my parenting skills?
I lowered myself into the wet sand, unconcerned that its mushiness took no time in working its way past the elastic of my swimsuit. “You may wear the vest, Jer.” I took over dressing duties. I snapped the plastic latches shut at his chest and implored him with my mommy eyes. “But you may not go out farther than you can stand. Do you understand me?”
“Aw, c’mon, Suz.” Len removed my hands from my son’s vest and pulled Jer close to him. “You gotta relax. You saw me out there. I can handle this.”
Alarms rang in my head. “Out there? Are you insane?” I jolted my head side to side. “You are not taking Jeremiah out into deep water!”
Steve Sr.’s wife patted my shoulder. “Steven Jr. can go with them. Don’t worry; he’s done it with all the boys.” She cast a serene smile at the rest of her ragamuffin clan. “Besides, he knows better than to take a little boy out into too high of surf.”
I thrashed a look at the family of gangly, sand-crusted kids encircling me, their faces quizzical, egging me on to allow my young son to get on a surfboard with his father—an ex-con!
Shame heated my face for thinking such thoughts. The man had reformed, Suz. Have some compassion! But still . . . take Jeremiah, who could barely blow face bubbles in the bathtub, out into the ocean? I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fathom what I would do if anything were to—I obliterated the thought with a flick of my head.
“Fine.” I stuck one stick-straight finger in Len’s face. “One ride and you must guard him with your life.”
He laughed. “Or what?”
“Or I will kill you.”
The way their mother ushered them all away from me like a befuddled hen, I got the feeling that Steve Sr.’s family members were literalists. So maybe announcing that, should the need arise, I would not hesitate to do away with Jeremiah’s father wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say. And yet, it made the point. Isn’t that what mattered?
I stood, hands on hips, eyes squinting into the afternoon sun. It calmed my fears a bit to stand unwavering, a beacon of sorts, almost like a lighthouse shining the way for Jeremiah and his surfboard to follow home. Of course, it soon became painfully clear that neither Len nor Steven Jr.—nor even Jeremiah—paid any attention to me whatsoever.
No matter. I wouldn’t leave my post. In this moment, as the surging tide slapped my shins and bounced off my knees, and as I braved the blazing sunlight to keep my gaze zeroed in on my son, I realized more than ever that there was nothing I would not do for that child.
Nothing.
Chapter Thirty
“You had a phone call.”
I dragged myself to the overstuffed chair across from where the two lovebirds sat side by side, Callie leafing through Brides magazine and Gage holding a fat pencil over a large sketch pad. With my thick white robe wrapped about me and my feet stuck into fake UGG slippers, all I wanted to do was sink into the chair and watch something brainless on TV.
Callie glanced up from a shiny page. “Don’t you want to know who it was?”
I shrugged. “Oprah?”
She frowned at Gage. “Aw, hon, you told. Thought you were going to let me do the honors.”
Gage kept working on the drawing in his sketch pad. Probably the design for the camp’s new mess hall.
“Seriously, Seth called on your cell phone. Hope you don’t mind that I picked it up for you.” Callie beamed. “Sounded like he really wanted to speak with you.”
“He told you that?”
“He has such a nice voice.” She glanced at Gage. “Isn’t that what I told you?”
Gage shot me a look. “She said he had a voice that could coax a screaming kitten out of a tree.”
Callie slapped him on the thigh with her magazine. “Well, it’s true.” She laughed. “You mock me so!”
He slid closer and threw his arm around her, kissing her mouth. “I would never mock you. Tease a little—maybe. Mock—never.”
They nuzzled and cooed and forgot all about me. So I dragged myself back up, willing myself not to make my dramatic eye roll too obvious, and headed into the kitchen. I took my phone with me and slid it onto the island, giving it the once-over as I paced the room, chewing on the idea of calling Seth back.
Men, it appeared, were at the root of all my problems.
Earlier Len had brought Jeremiah back to shore giddy from the ride, and I took that opportunity to grab our uneaten lunch and skedaddle home. After offering a cursory thanks to Steve Sr.’s large family, I took Jer by the hand and led him to the rickety staircase with Len following behind. He knew he had annoyed me, so he cracked a few jokes.
“So the preacher says . . .”
I shot a “why me” look into the abyss-like blue sky.
The phone mocked me from that kitchen island, daring me to pick it up. I turned a cold shoulder to it, though, and filled the teakettle with water and switched on the burner. Chai waited for no one.
Unfortunately, the phone proved me wrong. An incoming call caused it to buzz and bounce on the island. I yelped and grabbed it up before glancing at the screen. “Hello.”
“Suz? It’s me. Your stalker.”
I hesitated. “Seth. Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I heard you had called and was just about to, uh . . .”
“I was just calling back to say that I’ll be up at the warehouse tomorrow, fixing some beading around the top row of windows.” He paused. “Was going to suggest that we take a lunch break together.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“We never finished our talk. I was hoping we could do that tomorrow.”
I nodded as if we stood face-to-face, my breath suctioned right out of me. “Okay, yes, maybe midmorning or so.”
“Yeah, sure, midmorning.”
The whir of heating water drew my attention and I lowered the flame beneath the kettle. “Seth? Is there something . . . something going on?”
“What do you mean?”
I forged ahead, tired of the drama that had characterized my existence lately. “I don’t know. True, we haven’t really been friends for the past six years or so. But”—I pulled a mug out of the cabinet, then a box of tea from the drawer—“we were once very close.”
“I remember.”
“And now we’re either dancing around subjects or annoyed with each other.”
I plopped the tea bag into a mug, poured some boiling water, and waited for Seth to formulate his thoughts. In my mind, I saw him knitting those brows together, gathe
ring the words to say, his mouth twisted in that usual way of his. Strange how the image conjured up expectation in me.
“Boy. You tell it like it is now. That’s new for you.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know, Suz. Sometimes I remember times from when we were young. All the times I dragged you to things you probably didn’t want to do. You were a good sport, but you could have told me no occasionally.” He exhaled into the phone. “’Course, you finally did that, didn’t you?”
I despised confrontation when I was younger but learned that sometimes it had to be done. My eyes shut against the memories of the days and weeks after Len’s incarceration and all the growing up I had to do, all the people I had to ask favors of or explain my position to.
“Please, if you could give me a couple of weeks, I’m sure I’ll be able to make that payment . . .” “We must have our cleaning deposit back . . .” “We’ll just need the assistance for a little while . . .”
I let far too much honey ooze into my tea, watching the sticky substance dissolve in the heat. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve changed in that respect—kind of had to.”
His voice grew low, earnest. “You had to face things most daughters never do at that age. Change was expected.”
Tears spiked the back of my eyes. “I never meant to hurt you, Seth. Everything I knew was spinning. I just had to take control of it.”
“I know you did.”
Of course he did. Seth knew me better than most back when my world was ever-so-steadily edging away from me, even better than Gage did. When Mom had died, my attempt to take control of my life led me to choose the wrong path. Was I in further danger of misreading God’s direction and making more perilous mistakes in the days ahead?
I didn’t know the answer, but the idea lingered.
I did realize, though, that hearing Seth’s voice and bumping into him around town, even for only brief moments, affected me in ways that intrigued me. And his words of late—an apology, explanations for his attitude—brought comfort like my daily tea yet frightened me too, as if I’d been handed a harness and asked to bungee jump over the sea. I didn’t know whether to hug him like an old friend or choose to keep my distance.
“So we’re on for break time tomorrow, then? I’ll bring bagels.”
My eyes squeezed shut, forcing out the voice of warning in my head. “Okay. And I can grab a carafe of coffee on my way out.”
He uttered a “See you” and hung up, and I continued to stare off into nothingness.
“Fun call?” Callie stood in the doorway, a mug in her hands. “I was just going to grab some water. You okay?”
I slid away from the island, dropping the phone with a thud, and leaned back against the stove, cradling my mug in my hand. “I’m fine, but give me something to think about other than myself. How was your meeting with the minister tonight?”
She filled her mug with water and took a sip, her beaming face shining across the room.
“That good, huh?”
Her dimples deepened when she smiled. “I never thought of myself as a froufrou girl, but oh, Suz, it’s going to be a beautiful wedding!”
“Of course it will be—even if you’re not all that froufrou.” I laughed, the emotion bringing relief to my shoulders.
“But we’ve been talking about things other than the wedding, of course. Pastor Erik has covered every topic you can imagine related to marriage—money, kids, resolving conflict . . . sex.” She said that last word in a whisper. “He’s leaving no stone unturned, that one.”
“And it’s not weird talking to the pastor about all those personal things?” I drained my mug and set it into the sink. “I mean, marriage is such an intimate place for two people. I’m just wondering if it’s strange talking it out with a third person.”
“Not at all. I am really glad we’re doing this, actually. Especially with someone like Erik who’s been through so much turmoil of his own.”
“Like what?”
One of Callie’s eyebrows shot up. I’d only seen her do that when angry with Gage way back when. “You don’t know? His wife had an affair about four years ago.”
“The one he’s married to now?”
She nodded. “Yes—Andrea. It was this huge scandal in the church, people divided over it, but Erik decided to take a stand for his marriage—and God healed it. Eventually.”
“She really cheated on him?” I’d probably never be able to look at the pastor’s wife the same way again.
“Really did. A lot of people never could forgive her and left the church, but Erik proved that forgiveness can bring about the miraculous. I’m surprised you’ve never heard him talk about it—they’re both very open about what happened. But then again, it was a long time ago. Anyway, he talked to us about that time in his life and how much easier it would have been to walk away. Nobody would have blamed him, but he chose to believe that God could do the unbelievable, so Erik trusted him to fix both his marriage and his heart in the process.” She leaned back, looking up to the ceiling. “Good, good stuff.”
“So, you believe they’re healed now? Completely?”
She cocked her head. “I do. Not only because I’ve witnessed them together, but I also know the Holy Spirit’s power that’s been promised to us. God restored their love and made it stronger, even. Something to remember.” She shook her head. “Not that I think Gage and I would ever get into that situation.”
“You mean having to forgive each other for committing adultery?”
Callie paused. “Suz. I wasn’t talking about your situation. You know that, right? No one blames you for what happened with Len. That was all his doing.”
“I know that.”
“If anyone’s been more than kind and giving considering the mess he put you through, I’d be surprised. You’ve been the epitome of forgiveness. Most women wouldn’t have allowed a man who had done those things back into their lives.”
“Ha—I’m not a saint, Callie.”
“No, but you look at dark things in the most positive light possible. A person doesn’t have to know you long to see that. You helped me so much to look at things that way. Remember when you painted all those verses on the walls in my house?”
I smiled. “How could I forget?” Outside of helping out in Gage’s office, Callie had offered me my first paying job in Otter Bay. “I was afraid you’d fire me for taking such liberties with your bare walls. A temptation I had difficulty resisting.”
“Well, no worries there. That was such a low point in my life, but those beautiful words painted freely took hold of my heart and made me realize the preciousness of this life and how much I had to be thankful for. Don’t sell yourself short, Suz.” She set her empty mug into the sink and wrapped an arm about my shoulder. “I think Len realizes the huge error he made and how it’s too late now. He’s lucky you’ve allowed him the grace to be a father again to Jeremiah.”
Gage poked his head into the kitchen. “Am I interrupting?”
Callie gave me another squeeze. “Nah. Just girl talk.” She slipped across the room and landed a smooch on his cheek. “I’m going to go—lots of cabin assignments to wrestle with tonight.”
Gage pulled back, surveying his fiancée’s face. “Thought you delegated that responsibility to your assistant.”
She pressed her forefinger to his protesting lips. “Some things are hard to give up.”
I puttered around the kitchen, trying not to notice the way Gage captured Callie’s hand in his own and pulled it to his mouth, kissing it softly. Until now, I hadn’t wanted to admit the appeal of a relationship like that. Even during my marriage, before I noticed the deep chasms forming, I had longed for that kind of intimacy. Had I ever known it?
Gage ushered Callie out of the kitchen, and I heard the screen door slam shut as he accompanied her to her car. Maybe what Letty said the other night at the cabin was true. Maybe Len, in his own clumsy way, was attempting to woo me back to him. Maybe his acceptance of faith had
given him hope that, if only I’d forgive him, things could be like they once were. No, scratch that, that things could be like they had never been before.
I dried the last dish and stuck it into the cabinet, my mind and heart divided over what to think about that and what to do next.
Chapter Thirty-One
Monday morning brought Letty into the studio with a new mission. Fueled by a desire to pay me back—so not necessary, but whatever—she sidled up next to me with a stack of books and an exuberant mouth overflowing with information.
“Feathery, intertidal blossoms, another term for sea anemones, often withdraw their petal-like tentacles and fold themselves inward until the swirl of activity around them subsides.” She read from a marked page. “But they are not wimps!”
My personal tidal-information provider went on. “Although the sea anemone may look delicate and flowerlike, in reality they are hardy creatures that trap their own food, move and hide for survival and—get this—they reproduce in the energetic waters along California’s central coast.”
“Um, Letty? It was only a bag of groceries.”
She snapped the book shut and dropped it onto my workstation. “Oh, but you did so much more than that, Suzanna. You talked me out of my own dreary misery. I will not rest until I have paid you back in full. And part of that is providing you with information about the project you are about to embark on.”
She leaned in close, her perfume curling up my nostrils and causing me to tense lest I sneeze in her face. “A true artist must have in-depth knowledge of her subject. This is Art 101 and I, Leticia, am your teacher.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A snicker trailed through my lips, but I clamped my mouth shut when she gave me the evil eye.
“We will move on—for now.” She slipped an apron over her head and motioned for me to follow.
The project lay across the table, shrouded by a sheet. I peered at Letty. “Is it . . . dead?”
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