Lavender Beach

by Vickie McKeehan

  “This is Cooper Richmond. I need to talk to you about your brother Zach.”

  Cooper had agreed to wait around until Bree got there, which irritated Caleb.

  “I don’t see why we had to sit here and babysit the guy. I don’t know why we had to get involved like this. It wasn’t part of the equation,” Caleb groused.

  Cooper snapped back. “I didn’t drag you over here. In fact, I suggested that you not to come. But since you insisted, you’re stuck unless you want to walk to work, which you could just as easily do as sit here and bitch. So shut up.”

  It took thirty minutes sitting in stony silence before Bree showed up. She’d brought reinforcements—Troy and Zach’s other business partner, Ryder McLachlan.

  Bree stood outside the car wringing her hands. “Thanks, Cooper for calling me. I’m sorry it took so long but I had to round up the troops and rearrange the tour schedule for this afternoon. Do you really think Zach’s having a mental breakdown?”

  “I don’t know. If I’m wrong, what’s the worst that could happen? He gets an office visit with Doc Prescott and a complete checkup. But if I’m right…”

  Ryder spoke up. “For what it’s worth, I think Cooper’s on to something. Over the past several months there’ve been signs that Zach might be coming unglued. Troy and I have seen him freaking out at work more than usual.”

  Troy nodded in agreement. “Zach’s always been a stickler for things clicking, but when they don’t, he’s been losing it over the least little thing.”

  Ryder went on, “Then when Drea blew up at him about forgetting their anniversary, it just him over the edge when she packed up.”

  Troy boosted that incident with another example. “There was that week before Christmas last year when we had this big job to finish. Zach couldn’t concentrate. He kept messing up with the router, the sander. He’s usually a perfectionist with his work, takes pride in a job well done, but not lately.”

  Bree had heard enough. “Okay, okay, I’ll give Doc a call. Hopefully, he can work us in today.” She turned to Troy. “I don’t think I should leave him alone. Just yesterday I tried defending him at the luncheon because I love him so much. There have been times in the last two years I don’t want to concede that my only brother has his faults.”

  When Bree and Troy disappeared inside the house, Cooper said to Ryder, “They may not be faults. It’s possible Zach might be experiencing undiagnosed clinical depression. It usually takes years to get to this point to completely unravel.”

  “There’s medication for that, right?” Ryder asked. “I mean he isn’t so far gone that he’s about to go postal or climb up on a tower, right?”

  “There are meds. It takes time to fiddle with the right dosage before it kicks in and it won’t happen overnight. Plus, he has to take the stuff for it to work.”

  Ryder nodded. “Then I’ll stick around, too. Bree and Troy may need help talking him into seeing Doc.”

  Once Cooper started the Mustang and got underway, Caleb turned to eye his brother. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. Obviously, you’ve seen mental illness firsthand. At least your recollections are better than mine are. Which means you know more about it than I do.”

  “Be glad. I wouldn’t wish those memories on anyone.”

  With days yet to go to the school assembly, Eastlyn’s jobs kept her busy. But her mind kept circling back to the helicopter. She’d decided there were many things she could with it. She could start a charter service as Cooper had suggested, or she could start her own private search and rescue outfit. There was a third option. She could offer life flight services, including medical runs, up and down the California coast.

  The prospects were actually endless.

  At the end of her workday one afternoon, she stopped by the Pump N Go to meet Wally Pierce. When she entered the garage he owned, she spotted the mechanic—a guy with brown hair down to his shoulders standing under a shiny red SS Chevelle changing the oil.

  Now that she got a better look at Wally’s surfer looks, Lilly’s story about his topic at school made a lot more sense.

  The love of a classic muscle car had Eastlyn appreciating the machine. Letting out a loud whistle, she stepped under the car, peered at the engine. “Whoever owns this baby is one lucky dude.”

  “It’s mine. Refurbished it from scratch,” Wally said proudly.

  “Looks like it has the small engine block three-fifty.”

  Impressed with her knowledge, Wally abandoned his task, more than willing to discuss his pride and joy. “Only kind you could buy in California from ’68 through ’71 because of the state’s standards back then.”

  “Any heat soak problems?”

  Wally eyed her with fascination. “Used to. But that was before I installed a new starter with a heat shield buffering the exhaust. You know your cars.”

  “And engines. I had a father who tinkered with his El Camino and an older brother who loved muscle cars. Both let me hang around the driveway enough to pick up a few things whenever they labored over a ’69 Dodge Charger.”

  “My dad and I looked at the six-cylinder Charger. But it was our second choice.” Wally stuffed a rag into his back pocket and turned to face her. “Lilly mentioned you had your eye on an old chopper Cooper found out at Cleef’s place.”

  “Your wife sings your praises. But the truth is everyone around here does the same. They say you know more about engines than anybody else. And that’s why I need your input before I put my hard-earned cash into what could be a money pit.”

  “You know, I’ve spent hours out there at that old junkyard going through the stuff and I don’t ever remember seeing that chopper in the barn.”

  “Probably because it was buried under a mound of hay and dirt. I gotta tell you the same thing I told Cooper. I think that chopper was hidden for a reason.”

  Wally lifted a brow in surprise. “Stolen? That doesn’t sound like Cleef.”

  She winced at the word. “I’m not saying that or accusing anyone. But I had to dig the thing out of at least three feet of muck just to get a better look at the skids. It was as if someone had buried it to keep it out of sight. Anyway, could you take a trip out there with me sometime, at your convenience, of course, and tell me what you think?”

  “I’d be glad to. When do you want to go?”

  “You pick.”

  “How about now?”

  “What about finishing your oil change?”

  “I can do that anytime. Let’s go see this mysterious bird.”

  They made one stop at Layne’s Trains before getting on the road.

  Cooper had already made plans for his evening. In fact, he’d spent the better part of the day looking forward to nothing more than getting home, making himself a quick sandwich to eat in front of the tube, grabbing an ice cold beer, and watching the Giants take on the Mets back east. Because of the three-hour time difference, the game was due to start in less than an hour.

  So when Eastlyn came into his shop, he knew right away by that brooding look she had an ulterior motive.

  “Come on, Cooper. It’s almost closing time anyway. Ride out to Cleef’s with us. It won’t take that long. I’ll have you back home in time to catch the last five innings. I promise. I need both of you there to make sure I’m not making a huge mistake. What if I sink all my money into it and…?”

  He wanted to stand steadfast and firm and stick to his plans. But the way her eyes lit up at the prospect and the pleading look on her face… It wasn’t like Eastlyn to wheedle. And when she gave him that last parting shot about the money, he decided to cave.

  Cooper sighed. “I’ll do it, but not because of that pouty, dejected look on your face. I’ve been stuck in here all day and need to get outside. I wouldn’t mind getting some sun. But you’re driving.”

  She gave him a quick hug and a kiss, pumped her fist in the air and sailed out the door in front of him.

  As he turned the sign around and flipped the lock, it occurred to him that s
ome women could talk a body into spending an afternoon doing anything and everything other than what he’d intended to do.

  Behind the wheel, Eastlyn took the men through the string of ideas she’d earmarked as the best options for the chopper.

  Cooper was impressed. “The charter service takes a backseat to the life flight option. This area could use that kind of deal. The nearest major hospital is fifty plus miles from here. Getting a patient with a major injury to treatment quicker than by ambulance would be a huge bonus for the town.”

  Eastlyn chewed her lip and pointed out, “The only drawback with that idea is the H-13 is so small on the inside. It isn’t equipped with a way to transport the injured other than the litters attached to the skids.”

  Sitting in the backseat, Wally had his own thoughts. “As a parent, either the life flight idea or the search and rescue would be the way to go. I know Lilly and I worry a lot that if the kids ever need emergency medical care other than what Doc offers at the clinic, we’re looking at a long trip to Santa Cruz.”

  Once they reached the barn, Eastlyn ushered them to where she’d dug the trench around the base.

  “It was buried in layers. The only way to get a better look at the condition of the bottom was to burrow down until I’d seen all of it. The skids were stuck in so much dirt it made me wonder if they’d rusted out. But as you can see, the metal isn’t even damaged all that much, certainly not like all the rest that was exposed to the elements. And look at this, there’s not a single crack in the bubble canopy, not one.”

  Cooper gave her a little smile. “Sounds to me like you’ve already figured things out for yourself without any help from us.”

  Wally bobbed his head in agreement. “It’s good you’ve determined for yourself what kind of shape it’s in. Otherwise, when you’re deep into the work, you’d be kicking yourself at finding an unexpected surprise waiting for you. Did you try to crank her up, see if she’ll start?”

  She grinned back. “I did, but no luck. The thing is, if I go for it, I need to figure out which to work on first, the ugly exterior or the engine.”

  “Definitely focus on mechanical. Every time,” Wally urged. “The cosmetic stuff will come later. Right now you need to concentrate on getting the engine in prime condition to fly. I can help you with that.”

  She leaned back on the dusty chopper and looked at both men. “Okay then, I’ll talk to Nick and get the paperwork started for the purchase. Because I can’t wait to see this bird in the air.”

  She made time to meet with Nick the next morning at the bank and got a surprise. The man sat behind his desk and seemed downright elated that she’d already taken steps to getting her license back.

  “Are we talking six weeks?”

  “More like six months. After all, we’re talking about the FAA. But I’m not complaining. Six months will give me time to work on the chopper.”

  “Do you have any idea how long it’ll take to get it up and running?”

  “If you’re talking airborne ready, Wally thought it could be done in ninety days. That’s if I could dedicate eight hours a day to it, which I can’t. I have other responsibilities, other jobs. Nights and weekends are the only time I could spare. Then there’s the time it will take to rewire the instrument panel in the cockpit. The bright spot is that Wally’s already agreed to help me find an engine. As soon as he locates one, we’ll go pick it up or have it shipped here, depending on where it is.”

  Nick leaned back in his chair. “What if I could get you some help? Logan Donnelly works with metal all the time. He could offer his expertise on finishing the outside.”

  “Why would a sculptor want to work on an old aircraft out in a dusty barn?”

  “Are you kidding? Logan loves that kind of stuff. Besides, it’s what we do around here.”

  “But why? Why would he want to help me?”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? We all want you to get your license back and be able to fly this thing. You do that, and you’ll not only help yourself but the town as well.”

  “As long as you know I want to be the one who flies it, I have no problem sharing the load though. Since you’re giving me such a good deal on it, I’d be crazy to complain.”

  “We’ll help you finance the engine if it comes to that.”

  “Some days I wake up and think about that scene in Field of Dreams. You know the one, where Shoeless Joe asks Ray Kinsella, ‘Is this heaven?’ Are you sure I’m not in heaven?”

  “No, it’s Pelican Pointe,” Nick said with a grin. “And Iowa is about two thousand miles in the opposite direction.”

  Sixteen

  Eastlyn sat on her front porch and listened as the Memorial Day parade got underway. The marching band started with a blast of You’re a Grand Ol’ Flag. At least she assumed the song signaled the start of the festivities by the roar of cheers that reverberated all the way to her little bungalow.

  Despite the holiday she wasn’t in the same frame of mind as everyone else. It wasn’t like her to mope around the house in a sulky mood and then wonder why she felt this way.

  She had the day off. She’d slept late. Later tonight she had a date with Cooper. But in the face of all that, she wasn’t in a celebratory mood. She didn’t think a line of cars driving down the street disguised as corny floats, rolling past a bunch of flag-wavers, would do much to lift her spirits.

  “They mean well,” Scott said from the end of the stoop. “Parades are a big deal around here—for the kids.”

  By this time, Eastlyn had grown accustomed to Scott’s habit of popping in at intrusive times. “I know they do. But I’m no kid. I don’t feel much like partying, not the way they do. I don’t really understand why.”

  “You need cheering up. But today you’re thinking about Corporal Alan Silvestre, one of your early medics who one day hopped out of the chopper like normal to render aid to a wounded soldier and took a barrage of enemy fire to the chest.”

  She narrowed her gaze on him. “So what if I am? Alan was twenty-one years old with the rest of his life ahead of him, nicest guy you’d ever want to meet. He left a pregnant wife behind in Brooklyn, two parents who loved him, a couple of younger brothers and a slew of cousins. I watched Silvestre die right in front of me. The damage to his chest was… We couldn’t save him.”

  She hung her head, rubbed her eyes. “All those months we brought wounded onboard, some of them bleeding out, you don’t forget the iron smell of blood. It stays with you long after you wash the chopper down for the day. Sometimes the bird reeked of the stuff.”

  She glanced up to look into Scott’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that… I told you upfront I didn’t feel particularly festive today.”

  “You ordered members of your crew to get out and pull Silvestre back into the chopper in the middle of a hot zone. You did everything you could to save him.”

  “And failed. It isn’t just Silvestre. There were others along the way.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Scott understood all too well the guilt she felt. “There isn’t a soldier alive who went through combat who doesn’t remember guys like Silvestre, who had potential, everything to live for, but it was all snatched away in one moment of war.”

  “You were one of those who had everything waiting back here at home. I think I get it now. Cooper’s right. You’ve passed on but you came back because you don’t want to leave this place.”

  “If you give this town a chance, you’ll like it here. One day you’ll wake up and won’t want to live anywhere else.”

  As she sat there pondering that, teens Sonnet and Sonoma Rafferty skated by on their rollerblades.

  “That looks like fun,” Scott offered.

  “Is that your subtle way of telling me I should get up off my butt and stop feeling sorry for myself?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  “You’re a man of many riddles, Scott Phillips. But you’re not as clever as you think.”
>
  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re about as subtle as a brick through a window.”

  Several blocks away, Cooper wasn’t having any better day off than Eastlyn.

  Because the store was closed today, he’d slept late. Then he’d stumbled into the kitchen at nine o’clock and found his illustrious coffeemaker—the pricey one still under warranty—had quit working. Instead of grabbing his keys and heading for the diner like any sane man would’ve done, he settled for a jar of instant he discovered in the back of his pantry.

  While trying to get the foul-tasting stuff past his throat, he’d had the brilliant idea to go ahead and shave. Half awake, he’d cut himself, not the little nick that comes with wielding a razor but a nasty angled cut along his chin that refused to stop bleeding.

  So when the phone on the nightstand rang at ten-twenty he wasn’t cheery, not even nice.

  “What?” he barked.

  That’s when the recorded message kicked in saying that an inmate, named Eleanor Jennings Richmond, from the California Correctional Facility in Chowchilla, requested that he accept her collect call.

  It took him several seconds of realization before he felt like he’d been hit with a stun gun. He held the phone to his ear until the message ended and then he promptly slammed it back on the hook without accepting the charge.

  After all, if Eleanor Richmond was that pigheaded to keep calling, then he could damn well be just as obstinate in refusing to take her calls.

  What he couldn’t figure out was why she bothered with him now. God knows, she hadn’t done it when he was a kid.

  By afternoon, Eastlyn had forced herself to shake off the sullen attitude and get ready for her date.

  But something else nagged at her.

  Cooper’s comment about her wearing a dress had weighed on her for more than a week. And she still had the problem of what to wear at the school assembly. Appearing on stage wearing a stuffy suit didn’t appeal to her. Maybe it was time to think about sprucing up her appearance. Everywhere she went in town every other adult female seemed to already be wearing something summery.