As the Tide Comes In

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “It’s all right. Glad I seem well enough to tease now.” Well enough. She was functional, as opposed to being broken beyond repair, but the zest she’d felt for life would be forever out of reach. No more “life is amazing.” But rather just “enough.”

  Bouncing her feet off the rock, she finished her rappel and then started unfastening. She helped Webb belay other newbies while Luella made her notes.

  “Tara, I was thinking…” Luella trailed off as Tara helped her unfasten.

  “Are you ready to head back to St. Simons now, never to leave the flatness of your island again?”

  “Not yet, no.” Luella laughed. “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but it hit me so hard just a minute ago that if your mom could see you—whether it’s now or a decade ago—she would be amazed by you, proud of who you are, grateful to the moon and back that you aren’t like her.”

  “Yeah? That’s interesting, I guess. I’ve never thought about it, and I don’t allow thoughts of her to roost. It’s exhausting and unhelpful. Was she that powerless to stop the addiction that she’d throw me away for a fix? And later do the same to Sean and Darryl? I can’t understand that, especially in light of knowing she had good parents.”

  Luella nodded. “I’m sure we’ll never understand what makes some people turn their backs on everything and pursue drugs, but it’s like a plague across this country right now. Maybe you should consider writing your story—about surviving despite having an addict for a mom—and encourage other women not to take that same path.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Tara immediately regretted her scoff. “Sorry. But you think drug-addicted women read motivational or self-improvement books?”

  “You have a story to tell, Tara. And, yeah, I think it would empower you and others if you shared it, whether through speaking or writing or both.”

  “I told Pastor Mike I’d share my story at church five weeks from now. I’m hoping I can get through that successfully, but either way, when it’s over, I think I’m forever done, Lu.”

  Luella got a pocket-size notebook and a pen out of her backpack. “Do me a favor. Between now and then, when ideas come to you, jot them down. After that, if you still think you have nothing else to share besides what you’ll talk about that Sunday morning, then I’m good with it.”

  When she put it that way, how could Tara argue? She took the small leather-bound notebook and tucked it into her pocket.

  35

  Gavin took his phone off silent as he came out of the courthouse. The much-needed permits felt like golden tickets in his hands. Even with the many contacts he had within the local government, it’d taken a lot of hoop jumping to get these permits within two weeks. After he divided the property, the two plots sold within forty-eight hours of being on the market. He’d gone to closing already, because people with money to buy those lots didn’t want to chance Gavin’s changing his mind.

  The balloon note was paid in full, and his mom, Dell, and Sue Beth had been busy getting new stock and doing a store makeover to draw more customers. They hoped if they could somehow make a big splash with summer sales, Seaside Properties would award them the rental rights to the Home Décor building. Gavin felt that was a lost cause, but it’d been nice that the girls were so occupied that he’d been left alone to carry out his plan in private. Of course, they’d see the start of his handiwork by tonight, but he’d been able to keep it a secret so far.

  His heart hopped about like a flying squirrel going tree to tree. Tara had won the argument about the inheritance. That was true, and he would always be grateful to her for that. But in the three weeks since she left, he’d set in motion a way to give her something she couldn’t refuse.

  It was taking some gymnastics, both physically and financially, to pull off this plan. But odd as it seemed, he was thrilled to take out a loan for it. How was that possible? He headed for his truck. Finally it was time to execute the second phase of his plan. His mom would be thrilled when she learned of it this evening. But there was a lot of work to do between now and then. His two crews were probably already on the property, and one guy was a structural engineer. Gavin was antsy to be there. Too bad it’d taken longer at the courthouse than expected.

  His phone rang, and Tara flashed through his mind. Calls from her made his day, whether she needed to talk about heavy or hopeful things. But this time the screen said Jimmy.

  “Hey, Jimmy.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Courthouse.” He got into his truck.

  “You’ve got to come to Sapphira’s ASAP.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “We can’t jack up what’s left of the house to move it. One guess why, Gavin, just one.”

  “The Glynn Girls?” He sighed. Well, they were without Luella, which often led to some rather overemotional decisions on their part. Maybe he should’ve informed them of his plan rather than trying to surprise his mom. He started the truck and backed out of the parking spot. “What are they doing?” It’d taken him two weeks to coordinate today. What were they thinking?

  “They’re having a sit-in, even made a few picket signs.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “I couldn’t make this stuff up, Gavin. My imagination isn’t that good. Are you sure we’re the ones who ran off Mary?”

  “Tara.”

  “You say tomato. I say too-mat-o.”

  Guilt nibbled at him. The men would’ve come today regardless, because Gavin needed them, but he’d told them they’d run off Tara just to get under their skin a bit. It was time to come clean. “No one ran her off. Her home is North Carolina.”

  Jimmy gasped. “You lied?” His theatrics were clear. “Guys,” he yelled, “listen to this. Gavin lied when he said we ran off Mary.”

  “Tara,” Gavin repeated.

  “Yeah, whatever. You like that one, don’t you?”

  Leave it to Jimmy to see truth and be so blunt it hurt. “I do.”

  “I thought so. I hate mush, so let’s stop this topic right now and talk logistics. Are you going to stop sitting in the air-conditioning, eating bonbons, and get here, or what?”

  “Don’t leave, okay? I need you.”

  “See, if you’d talked to Mary like that, she might still be around.”

  “Jimmy!” If Gavin could invent a Stop button that worked on firemen, he’d sell it to half a million firefighters like himself and be really rich.

  “No need to yell. We’re here for you, mostly because we want to see in living color how you’re going to break up this act your mamas have going on.”

  “Thanks.” It took him fifteen minutes to get to the causeway, but once across it, he was pulling onto Sapphira’s street in three minutes. As soon as he turned the corner, he saw the three women sitting on a bench just outside the doorway to what was left of the house, and they were arm in arm. There appeared to be a poster on his mom’s lap.

  His buddies from the station were under a shade tree, looking relaxed and maybe gaining fodder to harass Gavin. He might need to talk to Tara to figure out a way to spin this back on the guys. She seemed to have both the knack and guts to carry out her payback plans.

  Gavin put the truck in Park and studied the chaotic scene. “Good Lord in heaven, give me patience, because she’s my mom. Actually all three of them are, plus Luella, and I’m grateful for my mamas.” He looked heavenward. “Right?” There were people all across the world who longed for another minute with their moms, and he had four women who loved him even when they were upset with him for wrongs or perceived wrongs he’d done. He grabbed the bottle of water from its holder. Amusement got the better of him, and by the time he opened his truck door, he was laughing. “Mamas, what are you doing?”

  “We’re protesting.” His mom slapped the blank poster on her lap. “We’re staying right here. No food or water until you listen
.”

  “Is this a challenge?” Gavin rubbed his chin, feigning being thoughtful. “Because I think I could win this one.” He shook the water bottle.

  His mom studied him. “We’re serious. Aren’t we, girls? Save the art room.”

  Dell and Sue Beth released a loud yell that sounded more like a happy cheer than a determined chant.

  Gavin rubbed the water bottle against his forehead. “Can you tell me what you think you’re protesting?” He lowered the bottle. “Or is that a secret to be revealed after your emotions settle or Luella reasons with you—whichever comes first?”

  “Julep’s pretty wired.” Dell slapped a pink-coated paintbrush against her stained white pants. “All three of us are.”

  “I can see that. The question on my mind is why.”

  Dell shrugged, looking a bit less ornery. “It could have something to do with our having the first energy drinks of our lives before we talked and decided we needed to take action.”

  “We tried calling you.” Sue Beth huffed. “But you didn’t pick up.”

  “My phone was on silent while I was at the courthouse. And what I’m hearing is you’re exhausted from the weeks of long, hard hours at the shop, and you decided to have energy drinks while you talked among yourselves about this. Is that a fair assessment?”

  “Oh, hush your mouth,” his mom said. “This isn’t about what we drank.” His mom narrowed her eyes. “We found out this morning that you sold the remaining part of Sapphira’s house, Tara’s shiplap and all, to the Historical Society. And we won’t stand for it!” She lifted the poster, and Dell and Sue Beth each grabbed a corner of it. In pink letters it read “Save this tart room.”

  Gavin stifled a laugh. “Someone misspelled art.”

  “What?” His mom stood and jerked the sign so she could see it. “How on earth…” Her face mirrored disbelief before she lowered the sign, looking resolute again. “However it’s spelled—”

  “That would be a-r-t.” Gavin elongated each letter.

  Sue Beth looked at the sign. “We were rushing around to make this, and that’s not a t in front of art. It’s a wispy dollop of paint that looks like one.”

  “Okay,” Gavin elongated the word.

  “This isn’t funny.” Mom shook her finger again. “Most of Sapphira’s house is gone, and there’s nothing any of us can do about that. But to sell what’s left to the Historical Society without even getting the shiplap, doors, light fixtures, crown molding, or anything else possible out of it for Siobhan is wrong. It’s just flat-out wrong.”

  Something much deeper than what his mom was complaining about was bothering her, and fresh guilt pressed in on him. Had Tara let all of them off the hook too easily?

  Jimmy walked up nonchalantly, arms folded, movements slow—classic Jimmy. “So…who’s Siobhan?”

  Gavin shoved his shoulder, not that Jimmy budged. Gavin focused on his mom. He could blurt out the truth about his plans, but his mamas clearly had some stuff to work through. “Go on. I’m here to listen.”

  “You promised you would save the shiplap and wood flooring and anything else salvageable for Tara, but you haven’t.”

  Jimmy leaned in. “Just how many women were staying under this roofless wonder, apparently known as a bachelor pad, as you demolished it?”

  “One.” Gavin shooed him, knowing Jimmy wasn’t going to step out of hearing range, but couldn’t he at least back away a few steps?

  Mom sat on the bench and looked up at him. “What are you thinking, Son? This past week I kept waiting on you to remove the goods for Tara, but you didn’t. Then while I was at the shop this morning, the mayor’s wife came into the store looking for furniture, and she said you’d sold the art room to the Historical Society. I’m so disappointed and angry I don’t even know where to begin, Gavin. I can’t be a part of stealing one more thing from Tara, not one more blessed thing.”

  And there it was, the real issue digging at his mom’s soul—anger at herself and him for taking Sapphira’s home apart before it was legally theirs, before Tara could claim it.

  “Mom,”—Gavin put a hand on her shoulder—“I’m not sure where to begin. First, I was wrong to start divvying up Saffy’s house before time, but Tara forgave me, and you need to forgive me too. And yourself. If it helps, she’s convinced if she’d known sooner or if she and her brothers had arrived here on time, they would’ve helped me deconstruct the house while we got to know each other. Okay?”

  His mom buried her face in her hands. His poor mom. She meant well. Gavin sat beside her. “And, second, either the mayor’s wife is mistaken, or you misunderstood her. I didn’t sell anything. I gave them artwork, not the art room. I also gave them pieces of shiplap, flooring, and such to use as part of the display, all of which I talked to Tara about beforehand.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His mom stood.

  “Because I’m moving what’s left of this house to the small lot near your home, and when the time is right, I’ll give it to Tara to use as a vacation spot or whatever she wants. I was going to surprise you with that plan when you came home from work tonight.”

  Jimmy scratched his head. “So two women, right? Not three. Siobhan and Tara stayed here, because Tara and Mary are one and the same.”

  Gavin ignored Jimmy and put his arms around his mom and hugged her.

  She broke into sobs. “I hate this planet sometimes. Too much loss. Just too much. Poor Tara.”

  “I know, but if life didn’t keep on keeping on, people meant to be born wouldn’t be. So we take our losses with our gains and let love bring us joy and break our hearts.”

  Dell and Sue Beth moved in, and they had a group hug. He stayed there until his mamas’ emotions calmed and tears subsided. All of them had spent years hoping that Cassidy had pulled her life together after leaving the island and that Siobhan had been given a reasonably sound, happy childhood. That bitter disappointment and the settling in of that heartbreak was also part of the reason for this sit-in. And overwrought emotions.

  “We good?” Gavin released them.

  The women nodded.

  “Uh,” Jimmy said, “and while questions are being answered, how many girls is Gavin chasing after, and are the others as good at running from him as Mary?”

  “Apparently all three of them are expert sprinters,” Gavin said.

  Jimmy laughed. “Who is this Tara person?”

  “You know about her,” his mom said. “She’s Sapphira’s Siobhan.”

  Jimmy went slack-jawed. “No way.” He grew serious. “I…I’m sorry, Gavin. If our pranks and nonsense did anything to upset her…”

  Images of Tara in Saffy’s house plotting this moment of revenge sprang to his mind. He smiled. “They didn’t.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Dell gestured at the remaining part of Sapphira’s home.

  “I have permits to move this portion of the house and dry it in—repair the roof and make the building watertight. But after that it’ll sit there for a while. It’ll take time to get documentation to set it up with electricity and all the other utilities a house needs to have.” His effort to save a portion of the home for Tara had put him weeks behind on the schedule as far as clearing the land and removing all the debris, but he’d put that stipulation in the contract when selling the land.

  Each of his mamas hugged him again.

  “I’m still confused,” Jimmy said. “Siobhan returned, and you chased her down the beach as she tried to get away. Now you’re putting one-fourth of a house you demolished on a lot next to your mom—may I repeat, next door to your mom—in hopes it’ll entice her. Is that the plan, Gavin?”

  Gavin sighed. “Close enough.”

  “Okay, I like this plan!” Jimmy clapped his hands together and rubbed. “I’ll have fodder to rib you for decades.”

  “Thanks.”

>   Jimmy slapped Gavin on the back. “Anytime, buddy.”

  36

  Luella drove toward church as Tara fidgeted with the notes to her speech.

  Tara slapped the thin leather binder into her lap, leaned against the headrest, and sighed. “What was I thinking? I can’t do this. I couldn’t sleep last night. I feel sick, and my head is killing me.”

  Luella had assured her a dozen times she’d do great. What else could she say? “Call Hadley or Elliott.”

  “No. They can’t fix this.”

  But in the seven weeks since they’d left St. Simons, Luella had seen much proof of how close the three of them were. “Come on. Give them a call.”

  “No. They have enough to deal with as they drive here.”

  Luella tucked a stray curl behind her ear as she kept her eyes on the road. No sense arguing. Tara had a stubborn streak the size of Texas. But it was actually a gift from God to get her through life with more than just her sanity still intact. She inspired people. Saved lives. And apparently hated public speaking.

  Tara closed her eyes. “But as much as I detest getting in front of a crowd, I have discovered it feels really good to write. I’m on my third notebook.”

  Luella thought Tara had been writing a fair amount, but she’d been rather private about it, even as they shared hotel or B&B rooms. “I’d like to read them, and if you’re interested in trying your hand at being published, I’ll do what I can. My editor doesn’t acquire that kind of manuscript, but she may know some who do.”

  Tara sat up. “Maybe someday.” She shrugged. “Right now it’s just therapeutic, and my real work is getting the nonprofit established.”

  While Luella worked on the tedious aspects of her research, Tara stopped at outfitter stores and talked to owners or managers. Almost every store was willing to consider donating to the cause once Tara had nonprofit status.

  Luella turned into the parking lot. It had a sea of cars, and Tara gasped.