Secrets of Sandhill Island

by Peggy Chambers

  “Well, let’s go get them.” Tom said, heading for the door.

  Meg watched the men walking to the van and marveled at how easily Alex interacted with everyone he met—unlike her. All she did was blush when she was called Mrs. Wallace. Anyway, would that be so bad? Alex was a wonderful man, and changing her name from Stanford could be a blessing in disguise. But, marriage after all these years seemed like an alien idea. She was happy like she was, wasn’t she? Besides, it wasn’t like they had discussed it. They really weren’t a couple, were they?

  “So, Meg, you are really Alex’s inspiration, huh?” Tom asked when the paintings were leaning up against the wall.

  “Well, so he says. He does use my produce for the medium and even though he came to Sandhill Island to paint the sea, he loves the little beach house I live in. He’s painted the landscape there before. But, I really doubt that he needs much outside inspiration.”

  “Well, Alex, your paintings are inspired, wherever it comes from. Now the juice that you paint with—for want of a better word—will it fade?”

  “It’s been sealed and should last for years like watercolor.”

  “I’ll call the buyer this afternoon and let him know these are here. I can almost guarantee your first sale. And I’d like to have a show soon of just your work. Can we plan on that?”

  Alex looked at Meg and then back at Tom. “You mean only this medium, or other things as well?”

  “Whatever you have that you would like to sell; we’ll put it all in here. I’ll take care of the advertising and it would be nice if we could do it during one of the First Friday Art Walks—they bring in a lot of people. We have them on the first Friday of every month and they bring out the regulars, and a lot of other people that normally don’t come out. We could feature your work.”

  “That would be great. Let me know when to deliver the rest of the work.”

  “Anytime would be great. Would it be okay to prepare for next month?”

  Alex nodded, smiling.

  Meg was sure his work would be widely recognized soon. Once outside the gallery, she grabbed his hand. “Alex, I’m so excited for you!” She kissed his cheek. “And I’m starving. Let’s celebrate and find something to eat.” They walked hand-in-hand down the street after they left the gallery. There were eclectic little restaurants all along the area with galleries and boutiques—but one with a turquoise door caught her eye. “How about here for some dinner?” She pulled him in the door.

  Inside, the air was full of Italian spices and yeast bread baking. Checked tablecloths covered the tiny square tables, and empty wine bottles held candles in the middle. It looked like you were in the heart of Tuscany, not on the seashore of Texas.

  Looking at the menus, Meg tried to decide on pasta or pizza—or maybe a meatball sandwich. Everything looked fabulous, but in the end it was her nose that made the decision for her. “What about the pizza?” she asked, “want to share a pizza and a bottle of wine?”

  “I don’t think anything else will do. I’m not going to even think about being healthy today. Deep dish?”

  “Deep dish it is.”

  After the cold crisp salads and bread that came with the wine, Meg expected to be too full to eat the pizza, but she was wrong. Alex laughed as she tried to pull the stringy cheese from the pie and reached across the table to wipe tomato sauce off her chin.

  “Oh, this is wonderful. The pizza, the wine, the day, but mostly you—I love you, Meg.” He said it easily and with a sparkle in his eyes.

  “That’s just the wine talking.” She smiled back around a bite of pizza.

  He put the slice back on the plate, wiped his hands and reached across the table, picking up her finger that still dripped in sauce. “No, I mean it. I’ve thought of nothing else for some time. I love you, Meg. I love the way you make me feel young again, and I love just being with you, even if we’re only drinking iced tea on my porch. I love you. I hope that doesn’t run you off, but it needed to be said.”

  Meg looked into his warm gray eyes. “No. Surprisingly, it doesn’t run me off. I haven’t felt the way I feel in some time either. Maybe it was a long time coming, but I feel more comfortable with you than anyone in a long time. I think I may love you too.”

  “You think?”

  “That sounded awful” she said, laughing quietly. “Let me try again. I have no idea how to have this conversation. I spent my life raising a son without his father. I was motherless as soon as she saw that I was pregnant, and was always an embarrassment to my father after her death. I know I’ve pushed more than one person away in my lifetime, but I’m tired of that. You have made me tired of that way of life. Yes, Alex, I think I love you.” She paused. “I really do. But, I still need a little time to be sure. Is that okay?” He smiled at her across the table. “What do you say to getting a to-go box and taking the pizza back to my house? If we hurry, we can still make the last ferry.”

  “Waiter,” Alex called.

  Strolling hand-in-hand through the garden in the moonlight, Alex and Meg, still giddy from the wine, giggled like teenagers as he ran his hands through her hair, kissing her lightly on the lips.

  Alex carried the bags in the door and hung them on the doorknob in the living room, then opened the door to the front porch to look out.

  “Tide’s in.” Meg looked out to sea. “Let’s go wade a little before we go in.” She pointed to the ocean and led him through the door and out to her front yard. This was why she lived by the ocean, its sights and smells intoxicated her.

  The cool foam covered her bare feet as she walked into ankle deep water with Alex by the hand. Moonlight shone through the clouds. It had finally cooled off a little after the sun went down, and the humidity wasn’t as oppressive.

  His arm slid around her waist and he nuzzled her neck. They stood looking out at the lightly rolling sea they both loved like a child. A spoiled child sometimes—always getting its way, but still they loved it. What mysteries did its depths hold? What bounty could it give up if it was encouraged? What terrors would it inflict if you didn’t respect it?

  A cool current rolled in over their legs and feet and Meg relaxed. She turned to face Alex and kissed him passionately. The moon and the sea had been responsible for passion in so many ways since time began, and they were just another speck in time to them. But, it was their speck in time, and Meg and Alex were engulfed in the feelings brought on by nature.

  Meg was suddenly hit from behind, knocking both of them down as the wave rolled over them and dragged them out into deeper water. She floundered and spit for a second and then sat up with water up to her chin. Alex began to laugh, reaching for her as the current threatened to pull her further out if she didn’t stand up quickly. She knew better than to turn her back on the sea.

  A crab scuttled away, making the sand under her feet move. She fell again. This time Alex was on his feet grabbing her hand, but another wave knocked them both down. Before she was pulled out even further, she stood and looked at the incoming waves washing their way.

  “Come on!” she shouted. And the wind changed directions, blowing her voice away. They ran for the house, soaked to the bone.

  Once inside the safety of the screened porch, he grabbed her, passionately kissing her neck and pulling at her clothes. She led him to the bedroom, and they shed their wet clothing along the way. The salty water leaked out of the fabric and pooled onto the old wooden floor. It could be cleaned up tomorrow.

  Chapter 27

  Fitzgerald tiptoed through the back door of the beach house. He wore a black ski mask and turtleneck for effect. He knew Meg would recognize him, but it might scare her even more at first. Surprisingly, he had to jimmy the latch this time. She must have decided to fix the lock after the last time he was here. Not that it slowed him down much. He could hear snoring in the bedroom that didn’t sound female. The artist was probably back in her bed again.

  Tiptoeing through the house, he peeked in the bedroom and could barely make out two lumps
in the bed. His plan was to push her a little harder this time. Scare her a little by showing up in the middle of the night at her bedside. But, she was not alone and that changed things. Still, maybe he could scare her in some other way.

  Walking past the kitchen table, he saw the antique silver sugar bowl. It looked out of place in the tumbledown house. It was obviously old and worth some money. He knew a guy that would pay top dollar for items like this. He picked it up and dumped the small amount of sugar in the bottom onto the table and pocketed it in his jacket, then walked out through the door that led to the garden. She would surely miss the bowl and know that someone had been in the house. Maybe that was enough to remind her she couldn’t run from her past. She was getting to be a problem. And if she wouldn’t pay, maybe it would be better to get rid of her than to blackmail her.

  Back out in the garden the wind had changed directions and blew in off the water from the south. Hurricane season was coming, and some of the old timers said it was going to be a bad one this year. The moon was full and the tide was higher than normal. It wouldn’t be full again for another month. But, the storms were supposed to start in the next few days. That meant the tide would be lower when they hit and would make flooding less of a possibility.

  ****

  Meg woke earlier than usual that morning and found that Alex was already gone. As she walked through the kitchen she stopped, staring at the place where her mother’s sugar bowl normally sat on the table. She couldn’t remember where she put it. She’d looked everywhere in the small house and knew she hadn’t moved it. Had someone been in her house again? Why didn’t she feel safe in her own home anymore? She came to the island to get away from the world—and it found her anyway. Maybe Alex could help her look for the silver heirloom.

  On top of that, the weather didn’t feel right. The ever-present humidity felt heavier than normal, and the sea breeze had died down. The locals were talking about hurricane season again like it was a visitor to be endured. One that wouldn’t go away. Paul, the shrimper, said his niece was with the weather detachment at Keesler Air Force Base and she had warned him of the possible bad weather just last night. She had grown up on the island, and though it had never taken a direct hit from a big hurricane, she worried about her family. Meg wondered if Paul just liked to brag about his niece, but it was always good to hear from an expert.

  Alex kept mentioning boarding up her windows, but that would mean she would have to leave and she wasn’t ready. Instead, he pulled all the plywood out of the shed and placed it under the windows in preparation. That way it would go faster when the time came. She hoped he was wrong about having to hang the plywood. In the few years that she had lived in the tiny house, the storms had never been bad enough to be called a hurricane.

  She pulled her cart to the produce stand with the darkest, ripest veggies on top saved for Alex and his paintings. Next year she would try some heirloom tomatoes in greens and plum colors. Maybe some beets too. Alex would probably like them and Sam also.

  Alex’s paintings were selling before he could even get them on canvas these days. The gallery constantly called wanting more, and he had a show coming up. He was secretly keeping the best ones in the back away from prying eyes so he could make a splash at the First Friday Art Walks at La Retama Park. He was becoming a hit, at least locally, and if Tom Matthews had anything to say about it, he would take him global. Meg couldn’t be happier for Alex. But, she was unsure that he felt the same. He said fame and fortune were never what he wanted. Meg understood wanting privacy so she didn’t push him, but she did introduce him to her accountant. At this rate, he would eventually need some help.

  Most nights he stayed at his place so he could work late. She didn’t mind. She needed her time alone too, but on the nights he came over, she made a nice dinner, opened a bottle of wine, and they relaxed into the evening. It was becoming increasingly evident that they were an item, as Jon would say. They had both said they loved each other, so that had to count for something, right? Meg didn’t know how these things were supposed to work, but she knew in her heart that now that she had met him, she didn’t want to live without him, even though she wasn’t good at expressing her feelings.

  At the produce stand she began to unload the vegetables, flowers, and herbs she had carefully stacked in her cart, when the door to the art studio next door opened.

  “Good morning, you’re early.” Alex had a sleepy smile and a cup of coffee in one hand.

  “I am a little early.” Meg smiled in return. “The weather woke me up. It is so still and humid it’s almost hard to breathe. I saved you the best of the best. They’re over there.” She gestured to the back of the lot. “Any more of that coffee?”

  “Yes, and I was thinking it might need some ice this morning, what do you think?”

  “Sounds great,” Meg said.

  “Here comes your favorite chef.” Alex pointed with his coffee cup to the overweight man panting as he jiggled their way down the street. “I’d better get my stuff first.” Alex picked up his painting medium before the chef made a salad out of it, and took it into the gallery.

  Meg smiled. Sam Taylor from Le Chez waddled down the street to get the first chance at her produce. She brought them to him this morning before he had a chance to pick them himself. She hoped he would approve of what she picked.

  “Good morning, Alex, Meg.” He gasped as he trotted to the produce stand. “Whew, it is so hot! Or maybe it is the humidity. Anyway, it’s miserable. Some of the fishermen were talking about hurricane weather at dinner last night. What do you think?”

  “Well, the weather is certainly changing and seems unsettled. You need some produce today? I have some great basil too.” She pointed to the coffee can full of the fresh cut herbs. “I picked a little earlier today.”

  “I’m thinking cold salads—lots of cold food today and maybe an antipasto platter with jugs of iced tea and Sangria.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Meg said, smiling.

  “Why don’t you and Alex join us for dinner tonight? My treat.”

  “That’s so sweet, Sam. Let me talk to Alex.”

  Sam stepped in front of her and touched her arm. “Meg, just let me say how nice it is to see you with someone. You deserve it. He’s a great guy and I think it’s time you were no longer alone. Just my opinion, but you make a cute couple.”

  The word couple surprised Meg. Of course they enjoyed each other’s company and she knew he loved her—but couple was a permanent kind of word. And she thought she liked it. “He’s great,” she said a little shyly.

  “Okay, give me what you’ve got. I’ll find something to do with all of it. Don’t unload it; let’s just pull it to the back door of the restaurant and I’ll pay you there.”

  Meg walked down the street with Sam and they talked casually as Alex watched from the front door of his shop. She was aware that she had changed in the last few months, since he first met her. She felt more open, and made more friends all the time.

  When she pulled the empty wagon back to her stand, Alex was in his usual spot with two iced coffees waiting on her arrival. In the window was a poster for the First Friday Art Walks at La Retama Park.

  “You’re not working?” she asked.

  “I’m taking a break and watching the most beautiful woman in the world walk down the street.” Alex smiled.

  “Oh, now you’re just exaggerating.” She leaned down to kiss him. It struck her that she had never done anything like that in public before, and she liked it. She wanted people to know that she and Alex were a couple.

  “No, never,” he replied, taking her hand and kissing it. “Will you go to the Art Walk with me tomorrow? Maybe you could get the chef to pick his own veggies and we could make a day of it.”

  “I could probably do that. By the way, Sam asked us to join him for dinner tonight. Do you have time?”

  He stood and pulled her inside the shop. “That sounds good. Let me show you what I have ready, and you tell me what you li
ke.” He led her to the back of the studio that doubled as an apartment.

  They walked past the pastel paintings on easels in the front of the shop to the larger room behind. It was a combination kitchen and bedroom with a closet in the middle. The room was full of paintings leaning against the walls. Several sizes were finished, and most included her beach house or the shore it sat on. He had branched out to include the harbor in a few of the paintings, with pelicans sitting on posts poking out of the deep green water. Foam floated on still water, and wild waves flowed through others. The sun was setting in the haze in one painting, but most included a sunrise when the air was clean and clear. And sweet light from the evening before sunset caught the sunrays off the water that sparkled like diamonds in another. She had never seen such passion in a painting, and they were all painted with the juice from her produce. How he managed the colors was beyond her.

  “Alex, these are wonderful!” Meg exclaimed as she hugged him. “Really, wonderful.”

  He turned her to face him and held her head in his hands. “That means the world to me—the fact that the most important person in my life likes my work.” He kissed her deeply on the lips.

  “No, not like, I love them,” she said when she had caught her breath.

  The bell to the shop rang and the sound of footsteps echoed across the wooden floor.

  “Anyone home?” called a familiar voice.

  “Jon!” Meg exclaimed as she pulled away from Alex. “How did you know where to find me?” She walked back to the front of the store.

  “Oh, just an inkling.” He smiled at his mother and walked into the room.

  He wrapped her in a warm embrace and then extended a hand to Alex. His face changed only slightly as he shook the hand of his mother’s lover. Meg knew he was still unsure of Alex, but he was warming up to the idea. Maybe.

  “Alex, good to see you.” He looked around the room. “Nice paintings.”

  “Oh, these are nothing, you should see what is going to the art festival in Corpus tomorrow,” Meg said.