“Unless he shows his paintings in a Manhattan gallery.”
“Oh God. I didn’t think of that. Well, I just won’t go to any art exhibits.”
Joe chuckled. “Confront your demons, Van-kerie.”
His pet name for her. He’d remembered.
Van bit her lip. Wouldn’t it be best to shove her memories back into the dark where they belonged. What if she tried to exorcise them and they just devoured her whole? Her brain screamed, no.
“Can I at least convince you to come out to the farm before you leave? My parents heard you were back and asked about you.”
Van hesitated, looked down at her hands clasped in her lap.
“If you’re afraid they’ll ask questions or judge you for running away, don’t be. After you left, Ma said it was a shame, and Dad said I was a damn fool.” Joe smiled slightly. “And I was.”
“We were young, Joe. It doesn’t matter anymore. We turned out all right. I have my business, and you have your vineyard.”
“But we might have turned out all right together.” He tugged at one of the short strands of her hair. Just as he did when they were young and her hair was long.
She looked up to see what he was thinking, and he kissed her.
Chapter 20
DANA’S PHONE BUZZED. SHE IGNORED IT AND TOOK A roasted chicken out of the fridge.
“How many times a day does he call you?” Dorie asked.
“I’ve lost count.”
“Why don’t you just turn it off?”
Dana shrugged and put the chicken on the counter. “Want to nuke this?”
Dorie looked up from the pan of boiling potatoes. “Not yet.”
The phone kept ringing. Dorie wondered if Dana had really not talked to Bud in the last few days. If she had held out, there might be hope for her.
The ringing stopped. Dana let out a sigh of obvious relief. “Shouldn’t we wait to eat until Van gets back?”
“I don’t think so.” Dorie speared the potatoes with a fork. “Done.” She took a hot pad and carried the pot to the sink.
“Did she say where she was going?” Suze asked.
“No.” Dorie began pouring out the water, holding a firm grip on the lid.
“Well, she couldn’t have gone to see her father, because I have the address and phone number,” Suze said.
“Maybe she went to Mike’s. I like going there when I don’t want to be alone.”
“Dana. She’s not alone here,” Suze said, then to Dorie. “Do you think she’s just driving around thinking? Maybe I should call Jerry and tell him to look out for her.”
Dorie shook the potatoes. “Dana, come mash these while they’re hot. And no. I think we’ll just let her do whatever she’s going to do and in her own time.”
“But what if she’s bolted,” asked Dana. “Or—worse?”
Dorie sighed. “Dana.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Start mashing.”
Dorie began shredding lettuce for a salad. Maybe Van was just driving around. Maybe she had stopped at a bar to pour out her heart to an anonymous bartender, though she doubted it.
She figured Van either went somewhere to think things through—or to someone to talk things through, and Dorie was banking on the latter.
The doorbell rang.
“That must be her.” Suze dropped the dish towel she’d been holding and headed for the hall.
The doorbell rang again, this time more urgently.
“Suze, stop. I don’t think that’s Van.”
A fork clattered on the floor; Dana knelt to pick it up. “Sorry.”
“You just relax. And don’t even think about opening that door.”
The three of them stood looking at one another.
There was silence from the front.
Just as they began to relax, the pounding started at the kitchen door.
Dorie jumped, but she recovered before Dana did. She was standing stock-still, staring at the shadow that filled the glass behind the curtain.
The doorknob rattled, and Dana whimpered.
“Dana, I know you’re in there. Come on out, honey. I just want to talk.”
Dana jerked, took a step.
“You aren’t going anywhere near him.” Dorie pushed her down into the nearest chair.
The doorknob rattled again. This time more forcefully. “Dana.”
Dana jumped up. “He’s going to break it. I better go see what he wants.”
“You stay put. We know what he wants, and if you go now, it will never change. Is that what you want? To spend the rest of your life beaten and abused, until one night he goes too far and kills you?”
“Dorie,” Suze began.
“You hush. You think I’m being harsh, but I’m just protecting her. You know that’s what will happen, don’t you?”
Dana nodded. Then covered her face with her hands.
“Suze, take her upstairs.”
Suze reached for her shoulders, but Dana broke away. “Bud, Bud. Go away, please.”
“Honey, I just want to talk. Come on, sweetheart. Just talk.”
“No. You need help.”
“I know. I know. Just come back, and you can help me.”
“Hell, no,” said Suze.
“Shhh.”
“You need professional help.”
“I love you, Dana.”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t beat me.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Get help, Bud. I’m not coming back until you do.”
“Open this door.” Bud pounded on the door, harder and harder until the frame shook.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Dana cried and ran toward the door.
Dorie grabbed her and pushed her into Suze’s arms. “Take her upstairs and keep her there.”
“But, Dorie, you can’t face him by yourself.”
“Oh, yes, I can.” Dorie picked up the carving knife. “Take her upstairs.”
VAN WASN’T SURE how she got back into her car. They’d been talking, and then they were kissing, and everything sort of winked out for a bit. Just like twelve years hadn’t passed, only they were older; he was more experienced and so was she.
And it still had the force to make her forget the outside world. Fortunately she’d trained herself too well to fully succumb. But she had luxuriated in that kiss for as long as she safely could.
Then had drawn back. It had been hard to do. Part of her, most of her, wanted to just stay there, pretend that the world wasn’t a hard-ass place ready to kick you to the curb if you stopped paying attention just for a second.
Van made a three-point turn and tried to keep her eyes on the exit to the street.
Joe was standing in the parking lot where her car had been, wearing the same smile he’d been wearing when they came up for air. The smile broadened as he raised his hand in good-bye.
Not good-bye. What he was really saying was see you later.
She vaguely remembered promising him to go for Sunday lunch at the farm.
But as she waited to turn onto the street, she began to make excuses. She needed to plan for the work at Dorie’s they were starting on Monday. She had to . . . she ran out of excuses. Besides, now that the idea had been put in her head, she really wanted to see the family and the vineyard.
It was just Sunday lunch. Like it had been just a kiss? She pushed both thoughts away. She didn’t want to think ahead, and she didn’t want to look back. But something told her she would have to do both before she turned her back on Whisper Beach.
Van pulled onto the street. Back into the normal world.
But Van hadn’t returned to the world she’d left. It had started changing way before the kiss. Maybe that afternoon seeing her father. Or earlier than that when she first saw Joe again. Or when Dana showed up at Dorie’s kitchen door bruised and bloodied. Or at the funeral. Or even as far back as her decision to come to the funeral.
She and Suze had been worrying about the stage of Gigi’s grief
. Now Van realized she herself had been in mourning for the last twelve years. It had become such a part of her that she hadn’t recognized it for what it was.
Until the day of Clay Daly’s funeral, when she stepped out of her rental car and navigated the gravel of Mike’s parking lot to the church. She’d felt it then. The pull back. She’d tried to ignore it. Tried to tough it out, joke her way out, just sneak away.
But she was still here. She’d seen her father. Joe had kissed her. And . . . she’d kissed him back.
Stupid, she told herself. It was a kiss. You’ve been kissed plenty of times since you moved to Manhattan. Countless times. She hadn’t locked herself away from relationships with men. She had friends. She just didn’t have much time for either.
A car honked and sped by. Van jerked the wheel, pulling the car back into her own lane.
Pay attention. She had no intention of dying on her way back to Dorie’s all because of a kiss.
If she had the chance, she would go back to yesterday. Play this day over again in a different way. She’d have gone shopping with Dana and Suze but she wouldn’t have gone into that art gallery, she wouldn’t have seen her father, Joe wouldn’t have kissed her.
Van sighed. She couldn’t go back. And she knew now that she wouldn’t go back if she could, even though she was off base, uncomfortable. Afraid.
There it was. She was afraid to face her father. Afraid that maybe she would start to hate him all over again, after she’d spent so many years trying to forget his existence.
And Joe?
She was afraid that it would be even harder to forget him this time around.
Ahead, the light turned red. She pressed heavily on the brake and stopped just beneath it.
She was afraid to see Joe again. Because despite the years and her attempt to bury him along with her father, they were still connected. She’d prepared for awkwardness. Even anger on Joe’s part if they met again. Or total dismissal.
But the connection was still strong; that had become pretty obvious just a few minutes ago. She hadn’t expected that.
But she hadn’t been wrong when she intuitively went to him when she needed to figure out what to do. He sympathized. Understood. Let her talk and figure out things by herself. He didn’t try to bully her into doing what he thought was right. Oh yeah, there was a connection all right.
And now she would see him again. She could call, say she couldn’t make it, things were taking longer than she expected at the Crab. She could drive away without a word.
But she knew she wouldn’t.
The light changed, and she made the turn toward the beach.
She knew she wouldn’t, just as sure as she knew she wouldn’t leave without paying a visit to the address on the card Ruth had shoved at her that afternoon.
She slowed as she came to Dorie’s house. All the windows were lit up, making the old house look cheery, as if a huge family had gathered for dinner after a day at the beach. And Van knew she wasn’t quite ready to return there, her absence made all the more acute by her reemergence. Dorie’s words echoed in her head. You think our world revolves around you?
Of course she didn’t think that, but still she needed a little more time, a tad more solitude. She drove on. Turned onto Ocean Avenue and parked. It was dusk; she’d spent more time at Joe’s than she realized. The beach was almost empty, but the Crab was doing a robust business. Dorie must be inside.
Tomorrow, Van would spend the day watching the operations of the staff, scoping out the traffic patterns. Looking for glitches. Taking notes. But tonight. Tonight she wanted solitude.
She walked past the Crab and down the steps to the beach. Down to the tide line, close to the water and the hush hush of waves beneath the pier.
“SO THEY REALLY suspended Bud?” Mike asked.
“Yep,” Jerry said. “They decided that starting a bar fight even off duty constituted strike three. So until he gets his shit together he’s suspended—and get this—without pay.”
Hal put down his mug. “Oh crap. Add humiliation to just plain mean, and he’ll be worse than ever.”
“They’re making him sign up for some anger management program.”
“Good luck. He’ll probably trash the place if they even suggest he’s over the top.”
“I think it will take more than classes to break his drinking-beating habit,” said Joe, who’d come to Mike’s just to take his mind off how lonely the marina office was once Van had left.
“What do you think will happen with Dana?” Hal asked.
Joe shrugged. “If she has any sense, she’ll move out of the area and start over.”
“Like that’s gonna happen,” Jerry said. “This is her home. She has a job here with Dorie. Friends.”
“And a boyfriend who beats the shit out of her,” Joe said.
“There is that. Hell, what a mess. Well, on a brighter note, I got a date.” Jerry grinned at the other two.
“Hell you say. Who with?” Hal asked.
“Suzy Turner. Only she goes by Suze now.”
“Van’s friend?”
“Yeah, she used to work at the Crab with Van and Gigi and Dana.”
“You taking her to dinner? Maybe you should go somewheres besides the Crab.”
“And somewhere classier than Mike’s,” Joe added.
“Hey,” Mike called from down the bar. “I got class.”
“There’s that place that was written up in the paper, over in Asbury,” Hal said.
“What place?”
“I forget the name of it. Google it. Fancy schmancy.”
“Well, I might, but we’re not going to dinner, we’re going to a party.”
“Who’s having a party that we didn’t hear about?”
“Suze’s mother is having a cocktail party.”
Hal laughed, laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bar stool.
Even Joe was amused.
“What do you think is so funny?”
“Where is it? At the country club? You can bet it won’t be held in Mike’s party room.”
“At her parents’ house.”
“Oh Lord, that’s worse. Wipe your feet before you go inside. They probably have white carpet to identify the wannabes from the elite.”
“Give the guy a break,” Joe said, fighting a grin. The idea of Jerry at Suze Turner’s mansion was pretty out there. The idea of Jerry conversing with a Ph.D. in English was even more far-fetched. And the idea of Jerry in a room with a bunch of society people was downright daunting.
Hal recovered himself long enough to gasp out. “Don’t ask for beer; they’ll be drinking fancy wine. And don’t talk with your mouth full of food.”
“I know that.”
“Don’t let this Neanderthal give you a hard time,” Joe said. “You’ve got a lot of class.”
“Well, listen to Mr. Suave and Sophisticated here,” Mike said.
“Aw hell, Joe, the only class I got is when I went to one at school. And that wasn’t all that often. I probably shoulda said no, but hell, she’s kinda hot, you know. And I always liked her, you know, just liked, but I thought what the hell.”
“Don’t listen to us,” Joe said. “We’re just razzing you. You’ll be fine.”
Mike scooped up their empty mugs and wiped the bar. “You got something nice to wear?”
“Like a suit?” Hal added.
“Yeah, my church suit, but it’s got some mustard on it from the funeral repast.”
Mike shook his head and slid them another round of beers, followed by an epithet that made the three of them turn around.
Bud was standing in the doorway.
“I swear if he starts something with you guys, I’m calling the cops and filing a complaint against all of you.”
“Want me to sneak out the back door?” Joe asked.
“Hell, no. I want him to get a grip. Damn if he doesn’t come in here every night looking for Dana. And every night I throw him out. Man, if she even stuck her nose in here, I’
d tell her to run and keep running.” Mike paused. “But she ain’t been in. Just in case you’re wondering.”
Bud walked across the room, headed right for the three of them. Joe braced himself for whatever Bud was wielding tonight. This time if Bud punched him, Joe would go down and let him keep hitting him until somebody pulled him off.
Then Joe would file a complaint. It was time to get the bozo off the streets before he killed someone.
“You seen her, Joe?”
Joe slowly shook his head.
Bud looked from Hal to Jerry. “How about you two?”
“No, Bud,” Hal said. “I haven’t seen her.”
“You know I haven’t,” Jerry said. “I’ve been on the same schedule as you have this week.”
“She didn’t come in, Mike?”
Mike shook his head. “Nobody knows where she is, and you sure as hell better not break up my place again, or you’ll be looking at the world from the wrong side of a jail cell.”
Joe shot Mike a look that said don’t provoke him.
But Bud just huffed out a sigh. “I know where she is. She don’t want to come back.”
“Bud,” Joe warned.
“I’m not gonna cause any trouble.”
Yeah, right, Joe thought. He didn’t want to deal with Bud and his problems tonight. He hadn’t even wanted to be here, but hunger had done him in in the end. It was fast food or Mike’s.
Maybe he should have gone for the fast food, but he’d been thinking about Van since she’d left and somehow thinking about her while eating a Big Mac just didn’t cut it. He chose Mike’s, had just finished a steak dinner, and was enjoying the feeling of a full stomach. And he would have been out of here and home by now, alone but thinking of Van and being sappy, if Jerry hadn’t told them about his upcoming date.
Now he was stuck with Bud and his baggage. “Hey, Bud,” Joe said as affably as he could muster. “Take my place. I’ve got to get going. Gotta close up the marina tomorrow.” Too late he realized he shouldn’t have brought up the marina. It was bound to lead Bud to the clam diggers. But Bud seemed oblivious.
“See you guys. Have a good time, Jerry, and for Godsake, make sure your tie doesn’t have spots on it before you go.”
“Eff you, Joe,” Jerry said. “I’d win a fashion show over you any day.”
Whisper Beach Page 24