Whisper Beach

by Shelley Noble

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Joe dropped his head in exasperation. Did Dana have any idea how silly she sounded? Like she was still in high school instead of a grown woman.

  Calloused fingers wrapped around Dana’s arm. She twisted in reaction.

  “She wasn’t doing anything, Bud,” Joe said.

  Bud scowled at him; his eyes had the glazed-over look of too many beers with a bit of bully thrown in.

  Joe turned back to his burger.

  Bud pulled Dana toward him, practically lifting her off her feet. Jerry started to stand. Joe put out a warning hand. Mike would kill them if they started a brawl. He’d just finished refurbishing the place after the last one.

  Bud pushed Dana behind him.

  She just laughed and peered around his side. “Maybe she’ll decide to stay for a few days. Maybe you should go ask her to.”

  “Shut up, Dana. Get in the truck,” Bud said.

  Dana reached out and snagged her drink. Gave Joe an air kiss and sashayed across the room.

  Bud didn’t follow.

  “Give it a rest, Bud. You know she’s just being Dana.”

  “Yeah, but I got something else to say to you.”

  Joe glanced at his rapidly cooling burger. “Mind if I eat while you talk?”

  “It won’t take long. You’re letting those poachers use your mudflats to catch crabs and clams. It’s a restricted area. If you don’t stop them—”

  “Look, Bud, I told you. I don’t own that property. I’m just working there for the season. They’re not my mudflats. And it’s not my responsibility to stop them.”

  “But it is your responsibility to call the police when they trespass.”

  “I don’t ever see them trespassing.” Joe picked up his burger and took a bite.

  Bud stared at him for a couple of extra seconds then finally walked away.

  Hal slid back onto his stool. “Arrested development, the two of them.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “Kind of like being back on the playground.”

  “Or wandering into a bad western.”

  “He was always a bully, long as I can remember,” Jerry added. “Just never grew out of it. At least you guys don’t have to work with him.”

  “Heard he got censured or whatever the cops do for rough-handling people he picked up.”

  “Yeah. We all figure it’s just a matter of time till he goes bonkers. You feel like you’re always walking on eggshells around him. He’s supposed to be going to these anger management sessions.”

  Hal snorted. “Well, if they’re using my hard-earned tax dollars, tell ’em to quit. It’s not doing any good, far as I can see.”

  “Doesn’t look like it.” Jerry agreed. “Sure hate to see what’s happening to Dana, though. If she had any sense, she’d dump his ass and find a decent guy.”

  “When pigs fly.” Hal slid off the stool. “Well, I gotta get going. Promised Mary Kate I’d take the kids to Six Flags tomorrow. Hello crowds and junk food, good-bye paycheck.” He plunked some bills down on the bar and looked at Joe. “So are you going to see Van while she’s here?”

  Joe shrugged. “Don’t know that she’s still here.”

  “Oh yeah, she is. Mary Kate was at the funeral. Van and that other girl, remember the rich sorority one who hung out with them?”

  “Suze?”

  “Yeah, her. Well, Mary Kate says they came to the funeral and then to the pub afterward. And that someone heard they were gonna stay with Dorie for a few days while they try to shore up Gigi.”

  “Good luck with that,” said Jerry. “Gigi would do better just to cut bait and start over.”

  Hal nodded and headed for the door.

  Jerry leaned on the bar. “Not for nothin’ but you oughta watch it with those diggers. I know they aren’t doing any harm. Water’s fine . . . at least enough for eating shellfish, just not for selling shellfish.”

  “Like I told Bud—”

  “Yeah, I know. Not your responsibility. And it’s not like the Shellfish Commission is policing the waters. But if you see them, you might want to warn them that Bud’s out to get them. He’s been on his good behavior, but it won’t last. It’s just a matter of time until he takes it out on somebody besides Dana. I wouldn’t want it to be any of those poor suckers. And I wouldn’t want it to be you.”

  He stood. “I gotta get going. I have the early shift tomorrow. Then three night shifts in a row. I need my rest.”

  After Jerry left, Joe finished his dinner, paid, and went out to his truck. Maybe he could catch up on some z’s himself.

  And he almost made it home. He was approaching the bridge that would take him to the marina when the light turned red. As he sat there waiting for the light to turn again, something just shifted inside him. When the light changed to green, he made a sharp turn toward the shore, leaving the bridge behind.

  He drove a block, two blocks, telling himself he was a fool. Three blocks. A real fool. And an idiot. Four blocks. But what harm would it do? It wasn’t like anyone would ever know.

  He’d just cruise past, see if there was a light on. Dorie would have closed the restaurant by now. She’d be at home, but it was late; she’d probably be in bed. He wouldn’t stop. Just drive by.

  Luckily for his self-esteem, he would never be able to get a parking place on the street, especially on a Saturday night.

  A car pulled out of a space just ahead of him. He slowed even further. A parking place. No yellow paint that he could tell. No fire hydrant. There was nothing stopping him from parking and getting out.

  He drove past. Saw headlights in his rearview mirror. He slammed on the brakes; backed up and into the space. He only made it halfway. But he waited until the car passed by before he pulled out again, aligned the truck properly, and parked.

  And sat. Ten hours ago he’d been doing the same thing. Sitting in the bar. Waiting. And for what? Why was he even doing this? It’s not like they would have anything in common now. But hell, after all these years, he just wanted to know.

  Dorie’s house was dark. The Caddy was gone, but there was a car he didn’t recognize parked on the grass. Van’s? Suze’s? Someone else who’d come from out of town to the funeral and needed a place to stay?

  He drummed a tattoo on the steering wheel, watched the door. But for what? Who did he expect to walk out in the middle of the night?

  A thousand times he’d wondered why she had left town. It wasn’t because he’d been flirting with Dana. Van wasn’t that volatile. She couldn’t afford to be.

  He’d seen her come into Mike’s and saw her expression before she let him have it. And before Mike escorted her to the door with the warning to stay out. She was only eighteen.

  Joe should have gone after her. But the guys were all ribbing him and he was embarrassed. But even as Van’s features dimmed in his memory, her expression remained. He’d thought she was pissed, but he knew now that it was hurt.

  He’d hurt his best friend. The girl he loved.

  After a few days he gave in. Tried calling her, but the phone had been turned off. He asked people about her. She was around, but steering clear of him. He’d planned to be patient, wait for her to come around. Explain to her that it didn’t mean anything.

  Several weeks passed, but she stayed away. No one knew where she was, or at least they weren’t telling him. Desperate, he even went to her house. But her father just yelled at him and said she was gone and good riddance. Joe could have killed him right there. Van had spent every day after school and summer vacation working to make money to keep a roof over their heads. And her father was glad she was gone.

  Joe never saw her again. No one had. She left town without telling anyone. And never came back. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

  He’d meant to marry her and take her away from her father and all the stuff that made her unhappy, but he had a scholarship to study dairy management and he’d let it slide. He thought he had plenty of time.

  He was
n’t ready to get hitched then. He thought if she could just hold on a little longer. But . . .

  There was speculation that she’d died. An accident or by her own hand, but Joe didn’t believe it. Van was tough. Had to be after what she’d been through. But not hard like Dana. Van had managed to keep her compassion and her ability to love intact. She was sensitive and artistic and thought she might like to go to art school someday. They made plans. But that all ended when she disappeared.

  Everyone blamed him and Dana, and it hadn’t mattered how much he said nothing happened; Dana was close behind him implying that it had.

  The tattoo turned to a drum. At least Van had made a life for herself. He followed her career on the Internet. But he hadn’t once tried to contact her. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was fear that she’d reject him or that she’d totally forgotten him, or maybe he just didn’t want his memory of how special she was to be tarnished by reality.

  And now he was sitting in a parked truck like a stalker.

  He reached for the keys. He’d go home. Ignore the diggers. Try to sleep.

  Dorie’s front door opened. At first Joe thought he was imagining things. Or that he’d stumbled on a burglar.

  But the dark figure came down the steps, paused at the sidewalk, then turned and walked toward the beach.

  And he knew who it was. She was a mere silhouette; there was nothing discernible except the way she walked. And he knew just as if it were broad daylight and she was staring him in the face.

  He grabbed the keys and opened the truck door. Was careful to close it quietly. Because he was really crazy.

  Really crazy and pitiful, he thought as he started after her, moving slow, hugging the shadows. If a patrol car passed by, he’d be spending the night in jail. ’Cause he looked guilty as hell.

  He followed her for the block and a half to the boardwalk. Stood back when she crossed the street. It was pretty quiet. A few stragglers walked by, but the Blue Crab had closed earlier, and the serious drinkers had moved on to the bars up the beach or in town.

  He didn’t cross the street but kept parallel to her movements. She was headed toward the Blue Crab, but she walked past the restaurant, and he lost her in the shadows. It didn’t matter. He knew where she was going. Whisper Beach.

  As soon as she disappeared over the side, he crossed the street.

  He didn’t think she should be alone on the beach at night. Especially one so isolated. God knew who might be down there. He crossed the street, moving slowly until he was at the boardwalk railing.

  She was standing on the sand, facing the sea. She looked almost otherworldly.

  Then she raised her arms and turned. Saw him and stopped. He slid back from the rail and into the shadows.

  What had he been thinking? He didn’t stop to see if she would follow but crossed the street and, ducking his head, quickly walked way.

  VAN COULD SWEAR someone was watching her. And yet when she turned, no one was there. She was alone with the tide and the sand and the night. Above her the clouds drifted across the stars, blocking out the sliver of moon, only to pass on like a theater curtain, leaving it center stage.

  She’d missed this. The expanse of open space, the dark unencumbered blankness of it all. Life in Manhattan was never totally dark, lights were always on somewhere, and the only panoramic view you got was from the roof of a penthouse, where you could see Queens stretching into Long Island. Or walk through Riverside Park to look at the lights of New Jersey across the Hudson. But it wasn’t the same as looking into deep dark that might go on forever.

  Now there was too much Manhattan in her to feel completely at ease in the dark. Hence that prickling feeling that made her alert, defensive, ready to run or protect herself. From what? There was no one there. Or if there had been, it must have been another poor insomniac who’d come to be lulled to sleep by the waves.

  Van felt calmer now, but she wasn’t ready to go back inside, so she walked to the water, her sandals in her hand. Splashed at the edges of the surf. Reveled in the cool water that lapped over her ankles.

  Maybe coming here was just what she needed. A little downtime. Not like the scene at Rehoboth. She’d been working hard for a long time. For as long as she could remember. Even on the weekends, she was always planning for the next week or analyzing the last. Because it didn’t pay to leave anything to chance. She’d learned that a long time ago, and she wasn’t about to forget it now.

  But she wasn’t stupid. She knew her body and mind both needed a rest. Time to uncoil from the tension of running a successful, demanding business.

  And if Whisper Beach wasn’t her resort of choice, she was here, she had friends, and maybe confronting the bugaboos from her past would finally set her completely free.

  She reached the point where the river spilled into the sea. People used to fish there. She wondered if they still did. She turned and retraced her steps, her footprints already washed away by the tide. As she walked, her footprints disappeared behind her.

  A car engine revved in the distance. A door slammed somewhere on the street, then silence and just the shush shush of the surf as it swirled beneath the pier—the sound that gave Whisper Beach its name. When they were kids, they all thought that if you stood beneath the pier and whispered the name of the boy you wanted to marry, it would come true.

  But Van had always loved the old legend more. The one of poor Melody Kilpatrick, who stood at the water’s edge, hushing her baby as she waited for her pirate lover to return. He never did, but if you come to the pier at night and listen closely, you can still hear her hushing her fatherless child at water’s edge.

  Van smiled into the night. She used to be fanciful like that. But fanciful had been torn from her years ago. And she ached for that girl who, even with the horror that was her father, still managed to find some joy.

  Chapter 6

  IT WAS NEARLY TEN BEFORE VAN PADDED, YAWNING, INTO THE kitchen the next morning. She’d showered and dressed, but she still felt tired.

  Suze and Dorie were sitting at the table with a plate of pastries occupying the space between them; a trail of crumbs led to Suze’s plate.

  Van crossed to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup.

  “Sleep well?” Dorie asked.

  “Like the dead.” Van pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “I heard you go out,” Suze said. She shrugged. “I’m having a little trouble sleeping myself these days.”

  “I heard you, too.” Dorie half smiled and Van couldn’t tell if she was trying not to smile or couldn’t manage a decent one.

  “I wasn’t sneaking away if that’s what you were afraid of.”

  Dorie looked at the ceiling. Suze took a huge bite of a jelly donut. The jelly oozed onto the plastic tablecloth.

  “I wasn’t,” Van said.

  “I know. I watched you from the window just to make sure you didn’t try.”

  Van coughed out a laugh. “What were you going to do if I was leaving? Throw yourself under the wheels of my rental car?”

  “Nothing so drastic.” Dorie rummaged in the pocket of her housedress and tossed a set of keys over to Van. “You’ll need these if you’re driving over to Gigi’s this morning.”

  “You stole my keys?”

  “I believe the word is appropriated.”

  “Some things never change,” Suze said and ran her finger over the jelly spill.

  “When?”

  Dorie dusted the crumbs off her fingers. “When I walked past your purse on the way to bed last night. I’m smooth. Had lots of practice taking them away from drunk teenagers.”

  Van snatched them off the table; then, realizing she didn’t have her purse and her capris had no pockets, she put them back on the table.

  “I gotta get going over to the Crab. Dairy delivery this morning.”

  Van didn’t miss the surreptitious look Dorie shot her.

  Van sighed. “Okay. I’ll bite. Is it still the Enthorpe Dairy?”

  “Hell, no. T
hey sold the dairy years ago. The year after you left I think, maybe two.”

  “Wow.” Van was stunned. “That’s been in the family for generations. What happened? None of the kids wanted to take over?”

  “You know that isn’t true.” Dorie said. “They’d been losing money for years. Couldn’t compete with the prices the corporate dairy business could sell for.”

  “That’s a shame. A real shame. Did they sell the land? What happened to the family?” Van thought she’d asked that with complete disinterest, but she didn’t fool Dorie for a second.

  “Sold a big chunk of land to a developer. Nearly broke old Joseph’s heart. But they made a bundle off the sale, so at least they’re not hurting like a lot of folks around here.”

  Van waited.

  Dorie waited.

  Van could win this battle of the wills. She did it every day with recalcitrant clients.

  “So where’s Joe?” Suze asked, unwittingly ending the standoff.

  “He’s working over at Grandy’s Marina.”

  “What?” Van blurted out before she could stop herself.

  “Yep. Looking after the place during the season.”

  Van shook her head. “Why? How did he go from studying dairy management to pumping gas and scraping barnacles?” But she knew all too well. Dreams were made and sometimes crushed in Whisper Beach. Just look at them all.

  “Maybe you should go say hello.”

  “I don’t think so.” What was over was over, and Van saw no need to travel down that path again. Besides, she wanted to remember Joe as a boy with a plan, not some poor slob who had given up.

  “Suit yourself.” Dorie pushed herself out of her chair. “Now I really gotta get going. Don’t have time to sit around and schmooze unless you start getting up earlier.”

  “Dorie—”

  “Don’t make me take your keys away.”

  Van sat back, resigned. “Fine.”

  “Fine.” Dorie shuffled out of the kitchen. It was the first time that Van noticed how stooped she’d become. Dorie was getting old, and it hit Van with a sharp pang, before it was superseded by another thought. Was Dorie just playing to her sympathies? She hadn’t been stooped and shuffling last night.