Home on Seashell Island

by Brenda Kennedy

  Beau

  It took all I had to not stop by and see Carly on Monday and Tuesday. I know she’s just getting out of a relationship and the last thing she needs is me salivating after her.

  On Monday, I pick up Myra from my dad’s and we have breakfast with him at his house before the market opens for business.

  Since Mom’s death, Dad moved into the small one-bedroom apartment over the market and sold our family home. It was an abrupt decision, one that I wish he would have waited to make, but it was his decision to make and I supported him as best as I could. I can understand the pain that memories can cause, but I also know the joy. I would like to think that the happier memories would eventually take over the sad ones. Mom died in our family home, but it was also the house they bought right after being married. It was the home they brought me home to immediately following my birth. It was the only home I knew. But in the end, it was the house in which Mom was diagnosed with cancer and where she took her last breath. It was that night that Dad left the house and never returned.

  “How was your date with Shorty?”

  “It wasn’t a date, Dad.” I look down at Myra, who’s playing with her doll.

  “Back in my day when you spent time with a woman alone, it was called a date.”

  Looking at Dad, I say, “Well, I guess things have changed.”

  “Did you both have a good time at least?”

  “We did. She found some sea treasures before she attempted her skills on the paddleboarding.”

  He laughs.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You put Shorty on a death trap on the first date; you’ll never find a lasting mate at that rate. Has your old man taught you nothing?” He adds creamer to his coffee. “Wine and dine a girl. That’s what they like. Not this roughhousing you’ve been doing. I’ll be surprised if she goes out on a second date with you again.”

  “It wasn’t a date,” I clarify. “And she did seem to like it. We also had dinner outside on the patio.”

  “Now you’re talking. Shorty’s one of those girls you don’t want to slip away. Raised by a good family with strong family values. That’s what you need and that’s what….” He stops and looks down at Myra who’s still playing. “That’s what the both of you need.”

  Nothing else is said throughout breakfast about Carly and me.

  “What did you and Grandpa do last night?” I ask Myra.

  “We cleaned and then we made cookies.”

  I search the small kitchen for the leftover cookies. “Where are they?”

  “We ate them,” Myra says innocently.

  I look at Dad although I’m still talking to Myra. “Grandpa let you eat all the cookies?”

  “Yeah, I threw up.”

  “Dad!”

  “What? Look at her. She’s fine.”

  “We’ll talk about this later.” I look down at my three-year-old daughter. Since my dad won’t listen, I’m hoping Myra will. “That’s why Daddy gives you only two cookies a day, Myra.”

  “I know, Daddy. I forgot. Don’t be mad at Grandpa. He threw up, too.”

  A memory comes to mind of when I was a little boy sick with the flu. Mom was at the store when I threw up on my bed. I remember vividly my dad gagging while changing the bedding.

  “Still can’t stand the smell, eh?”

  He holds his hand over his stomach. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I let out a chuckle. “I bet you don’t.”

  Later that day, I was glad that Myra and I had things to do to keep my mind off Carly.

  Myra comes with me while I check the hurricane shutters on the beach house and at the church to make sure they’re in working condition. The church is the only hurricane shelter on Seashell Island — it is supposed to be strong enough to withstand a category four hurricane. I just pray we never find out if it really is durable enough to withstand winds that forceful. We’re very blessed that the island hasn’t been impacted by a category four hurricane in decades, but tropical storms are pretty common.

  When we’re done, we gather some rocks by the water that the kids can use for craft time at the church on Wednesday. Jimmy’s mom brought up an idea of the kids painting rocks that we could use to decorate the flower bed at the church. I thought it was a good idea, but I’m not sure how the kids can decorate them since her son eats everything we use for crafts, including the paint. I’ll need to spend more time thinking about this craft before I mention it to the children.

  Then we take dinner to Miss Jean since she’s unable to get around. I was delighted when the members of the church all pitched in to take Miss Jean her evening meal. Tonight happens to be my and Myra’s turn. We don’t make food but decide to purchase something from a local diner and take it to her. I didn’t specify it should be a home-cooked meal; I just mentioned it should be something hot and nutritious.

  “Daddy, can we get cookies for dessert?” Myra asks.

  I think she had enough cookies last night, but it’s quite difficult for me to tell my little girl no. “We can, Myra, but we’ll leave them at her house for her to enjoy when we’re gone.”

  “Okay, but can I have one?” she asks, holding up one finger.

  “One. And you get it after dinner for dessert.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  “Look for something with raisins,” I call after her as she makes her way to the display cabinet.

  I take her out of the cart so she can choose the cookies for dessert. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she chooses the largest cookies in the bakery. People on the island call the very largest cookies “diet cookies” because you can eat one and write in your food journal “one cookie.”

  On Wednesday morning, Myra and I shower and I get ready to head to the church. Today Myra will spend the day with her babysitter, Cindy, and with Cindy’s three children. I keep her with me as much as possible, but I know her being with me all the time isn’t good for her. She needs to be with other children her age. Myra likes going over there and playing with the kids and I know it does her good being around a woman. Let’s just face it, a woman can offer her things I can’t. A woman will be more aware of things like proper etiquette for eating. What’s proper for a man isn’t always proper for a lady. I’d hate for Myra to blow her nose into a hankie at the dinner table on her first date, or fiftieth date for that matter. She wouldn’t have learned that from me, but I can’t say the same for her Grandpa.

  Although the choir doesn’t practice until this evening, this is the day I spend at the church preparing for Sunday’s sermon. People on the island also know I’ll be in the office if they need to come in and talk to me about something.

  After I drop off Myra, I shop for the snacks the kids will have tonight during choir rehearsal. I decide on protein-rich snacks. Meat, cheese, crackers, and peanut butter. I also stop by the fresh fruit stand and purchase some fresh berries and peaches.

  I can’t deny that I’m also excited to see Carly today. I just saw her on Sunday yet it feels like so long ago.

  When I finally get to the church, I leave the doors open so the islanders will know the church is open to everyone and anyone. Sometimes someone just needs a place to go and be alone. Sometimes people will come here to pray. Although God can hear you anywhere, they feel closer to God here. After all, it is His house, we’re just guests.

  But what I didn’t expect was Carly knocking on my opened office door.

  “Are you open?” she asks.

  Laying my pen down, I smile as she stands there. “Yes, there’s no need to knock. Please, come in.”

  She walks in, but she doesn’t sit down.

  “I wanted to see if it was all right if I started setting up the crafts for the kids tonight?”

  “You brought crafts for the kids to make?” I ask, looking at the tote hanging on her shoulders.

  “I did. I searched Pinterest to see what we could do with sea glass and found some simple jewelry ideas I thought we could make.”

  I s
tand when I realize she isn’t going to sit down or come any closer. “I think the children would like to try something different.”

  “There’s also no paint, glue, or markers needed. Or chainsaws.”

  “Ah, Jimmy will surely be disappointed.”

  She laughs. “I suspected he would. There may also be time we could color later. I found some print-out coloring pages, but Pap and Gram didn’t have a printer at the house.”

  “We have a computer and printer here you could use.” I nod to the printer and computer sitting unused on the other desk in my office.

  “The noise from the printer won’t bother you?”

  “No, not at all. I was just going to take a break. Care to join me?”

  “Sure, I’d like that.” I watch as she sets her tote down on the chair.

  I lock up the office and tell Bill the maintenance man that we’re leaving. He’s washing the pews and waves his acknowledgment.

  “Do you care to walk over and get some ice cream?”

  “You’re a man after my heart.”

  “Am I now?”

  “A person can win over almost anyone with food.”

  I think back on what my dad said earlier today. “Wine and dine her; that’s what they want.” Maybe he’s wiser than I give him credit for. But then again, the same can go for men. Feed us and we’ll do almost anything you want.

  “Let’s have lunch, too.” I take her hand and I feel the same electric shock. We walk down Shell Lane in town until I see a place with outdoor seating available near the water. I make a conscious effort to stay away from Dad’s market as it’s nearby. I don’t need him to see us as he’ll surely come over and say something or join us. “How does this look?”

  “Perfect. It’s very quaint.”

  “Jimmy’s mom and dad own it,” I say, holding her chair out for her. Taking a seat on the opposite side, I admire her beauty. After we order our drinks and food, I say, “Can you explain what Pinterest is?”

  “It’s an addiction for men and women.”

  I raise my brow in curiosity.

  “Oh, sorry. Not that kind of addiction. It’s a website where you can search for anything. If you want to learn how to make something, find a new recipe, or discover do-it-yourself projects, you can find it on Pinterest.”

  “Really? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s not just for women. Men get addicted, too. They can learn how to make fly fishing bait, decorate a garage or man cave, or fix a leaking toilet.”

  “Oh, like YouTube?”

  “In my personal opinion, it’s better than YouTube. But don’t go home tonight and type it into your search bar thinking you just want to see what it’s about.” She laughs out loud. “Three hours later you’ll wonder where your evening went.”

  “I’ll make sure Myra’s in bed first.”

  “You’ll thank me later.”

  We have lunch and she thanks me again for the cell phone I gave her. “It works perfectly.”

  “Is this it?” I ask, looking at the pink and glittery device on the table.

  “It is. I left the island yesterday and bought a new case for it.”

  “It sure looks different. May I see it?” I ask, holding out my hand for it before she answers.

  She hands it to me and I carefully inspect the girly cover. Before I give it back to her, I call my own cell phone from her phone. My phone rings and I hand it back to her.

  “You’re pretty shrewd, Beauregard.”

  “Now you should save that to your contacts.” She’s right. I am clever. Not only does she have my cell phone number, I also have hers.

  She punches something into her phone. “You should also save my number, too.”

  I do just that.

  ***

  At the end of choir practice, I decide to ask Carly out. We get along, I enjoy her company, and I don’t think my profession is a concern of hers. I’ve prayed about this and I think God would approve of my choice. Well, at least there wasn’t a sign showing me otherwise. The Devil didn’t appear before me and compliment my choice of a woman to date.

  Carly stays and walks out with me and Myra as we lock up the church. Myra’s wearing her new piece of jewelry she made during craft time. I look out into the parking lot when I notice only one vehicle. “Did you walk here?”

  “It was too nice to drive.”

  “I see. Do you want Myra and me to drive you home?”

  “No, I’ll walk. But thank you.”

  I look down at Myra and ask, “Do you want to walk Miss Carly home?”

  “Daddy, I’m too tired to walk.” Not what I was expecting her to say and this definitely throws a wrench in my plans. “How about if Daddy gives you a piggyback ride?”

  “Yay.”

  I quickly pick her up and toss her on my back before she can change her mind.

  Carly laughs and shakes her head.

  “After you.”

  Carly looks at me. “You know she’ll still be too tired and you’ll have to carry her back to the church, don’t you?”

  “It’ll be all right. There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Myra hugs my neck and rests her head on my back.

  “What is it?”

  “Would you like to have dinner with me Friday night?”

  “I would love to,” she says quickly and eagerly.

  I was expecting a delayed response followed by an “I’m sorry.” “You would?”

  “Yes, what time should I be ready?”

  “I thought we could have dinner off of the island if that’s okay?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Great, I’ll pick you up at five o’clock?”

  “Yes, I’ll be ready. But if something happens and you can’t make it, call me.”

  What could possibly happen?

  Chapter Six

  Carly

  With each passing day the excitement builds leading up to my date night with Beau. I keep it to myself although I wanted to call Sarah and tell her. I knew she would make me nervous by giving me unsolicited advice, sending me memes of inappropriate dating behavior through my e-mail, and possibly sending me a month’s worth of condoms thanks to companies offering overnight deliveries. Hmm. A month’s worth of condoms? How many would she think that is? For me, right now, zero is the correct number.

  I’m nervous enough and I don’t need her antics to add to my already mounting anxiety. I thank God that I have only two days to wait.

  On Thursday, I go shopping off of the island to look for the perfect dress and shoes. I need something conservative but not boring. I need heels but not hooker height. I also need earrings, but not hoops. And I own none of these things.

  When I’m happy with my purchases, I head home.

  The rest of the night is spent giving myself a mani/pedi, giving my hair a hot-oil treatment, and myself a facial. I put Grace and Frankie on Netflix to help pass the time. Who doesn’t love Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda? Plus, their failed marriages remind me why I’m single.

  I decide to open a bottle of wine. Of course, if Beau and I were together, I would abstain from drinking altogether. Maybe I should stop now, just in case we wed. I laugh at myself for even thinking such a thing so early into a relationship. Relationship? Wed? We haven’t even had a first date yet. What the hell am I thinking? I cap the wine and push it away. I’m screwed up enough on my own, I don’t need any help. On second thought, I need something to help my nerves. I skip the glass and drink from the bottle.

  The next morning, I get up and run before walking along the shore looking for seashells and other treasures that may have washed up on shore overnight from the deep blue sea. Lately, I’ve added driftwood to my collection of shells, sand dollars, and sea glass. Thanks to Pinterest, I know a lot of things I can make out of driftwood.

  I start getting ready at three o’clock for my date at five. I want to look perfect for Beau. While I’m sitting on the bed with the French doors open to the patio, I hear a car pull into the d
riveway. Panicking, I look at my phone for the first time. It’s just past four o’clock. It can’t be Beau. I remain still, hoping he’s not here to cancel or postpone our date. Soon I hear two giddy females laughing as they make their way to the house.

  “Hey, Carly, we’re home.”

  A smile forms on my face when I hear Sarah’s voice. “Come through the back, it’s open.”

  “And I brought someone with me.”

  I hear louder giggles.

  “The more the merrier.”

  I wait patiently with my mascara wand in hand, making sure my white robe is covering up the nearly identical twins.

  “Hey, bitch, we brought booze,” Sarah yells a little too loudly. I’m glad the beach house is located on the dead side of the island. The church is within walking distance — I’m thankful it’s not in hearing distance. I’m also pleased that Beau isn’t already here. I’ll need to warn her to tone down her colorful jargon.

  When I finally see her on the patio, I wonder if she isn’t already sloshed.

  “I forgot you were coming tonight.”

  She looks at me with surprise. “Why are you getting dolled up?”

  I look at her friend and give her a wave. “Because I have a date.”

  “Shut the front door.”

  I smile at her enthusiasm.

  “With the preacher?”

  “It is.”

  “Well, hot damn.”

  I cringe at her choice of words. I know this is something that would never be tolerated in church and I’m pretty confident Gram, Pap, and Mom wouldn’t approve either.

  “Sarah, Jesus. Watch your mouth,” her friend says.

  I think I like her already. “Hi, I’m Carly, Sarah’s not rude sister,” I say to my sister’s friend. I feel awkward that she’s standing there and Sarah has yet to introduce us.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Sarah and her friend are now standing in my bedroom just past the door. “This is my girlfriend, Chloe.”