A Beach Wish

by Shelley Noble

  He was wearing a long blue-and-white-striped caftan. Today his long white hair was pulled back in a ponytail. There was a sense of calm about him that was seductive.

  “Welcome. Come in.” His voice was lighter than Zoe had expected. She’d imagined him as a bass, but his greeting came out in a round, smooth baritone. He turned to precede them, and Zoe saw there was a daisy stuck in the band of his hair.

  It was dark and cool inside. She followed him down a short corridor hung with handwoven tapestries, past a door that led to a country kitchen that smelled slightly of an herb Zoe thought she recognized.

  The hall ended in a staircase and opened on the left to a large room filled with light and crammed with comfortable-looking overstuffed furniture. Each piece was covered in a different floral pattern in a combination of colors that would rival even Jenny Bascombe’s perennial border.

  Beyond that room was an enclosed porch that overlooked the sea. This was a long-established and well-loved home, Zoe could feel it. And she felt like an interloper.

  “Have a seat,” Henry said.

  Zoe sat on the couch, trying to look comfortable and competent at the same time, failing at both.

  David sat in a chair across from her.

  She frowned at him. She hadn’t planned for him to be around when she made her announcement, or rather, her request. She should never have decided to play this by ear.

  He leaned back in the chair and crossed a foot over one knee. A move that said he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Zoe swallowed.

  Henry left the room.

  What the hell?

  He soon returned with a tray of glasses and what appeared to be iced tea, followed by Floret carrying a plate of cookies. Today she had foregone her gardening overalls for a long dress printed with smiling owls.

  Henry poured tea. Floret passed the cookies, and David Merrick sat staring out to sea.

  After a nerve-racking display of manners, Henry sat in the big wing chair placed diagonally to Zoe. Floret sat down on the couch next to her. Even though she perched on the edge of the cushion, her feet didn’t quite reach the floor.

  “I have a confession to make,” Zoe began. “I’m not just a sightseer. I have a reason for being here.”

  “Oh, we know, dear. You don’t have to explain,” Floret said, leaning over to pat her hand. She turned it over and looked at Zoe’s palm. “Good heavens.”

  “It’s nothing, just some splinters.” Zoe pulled her hand away. She was losing her train of thought.

  She clasped her hands in her lap, took a breath. “I came because . . .” Her voice gave out and she realized that so far she hadn’t actually said the words out loud. She reached for the glass of tea, took a sip. It was light and naturally sweet. She gripped the glass in both hands—she couldn’t say it.

  Henry took the glass from her and placed it on the table. “It’s all right, Zoe. We know why you’ve come; we’ve been waiting.”

  Zoe eyed him warily, then cut a look toward Floret, but they both looked perfectly benign. Maybe she was the one who was batshit crazy.

  “I . . .” She looked across at David, who seemed a thousand miles away. Or maybe he just didn’t want to participate in this crazy scene. Then why didn’t he leave? She certainly had no desire for an audience.

  Henry laughed, a mellifluous sound that reminded her of the wind chimes. “Not to worry, you’re safe here. We’re not cult leaders.”

  Zoe blushed.

  “Not even psychics, though Floret can read tarot cards.”

  “And tea leaves,” Floret added.

  “Then how did you know I was coming? How do you know why I came?” The questions just flew out of her mouth. She couldn’t have stopped them if she’d tried.

  “She sent us a letter.”

  “Who?” blurted Zoe.

  Floret leaned toward her. “Jenny, of course. She said you’d be coming and . . .” Her words trailed off and she looked over David’s shoulder so intently that Zoe looked, too. There was nothing there that hadn’t been there before.

  “She sent you something,” Henry said. “She asked us to keep it until you arrived, but you ran off so quickly yesterday, I didn’t have a chance to give it to you.” Henry stood and left the room.

  No one moved or spoke until he returned holding a flat brown-wrapped package. He moved the platter of cookies and placed the package on the table, then retrieved a penknife from a nearby writing table and handed it to Zoe.

  Zoe just stared at the package. It had all the trademark neatness and tape overkill that were—had been—her mother’s.

  “When? When did she send this?”

  Henry looked at Floret. “Months ago. She sent us a letter along with it, asking us to keep it. That you would be here . . .”

  “Sooner or later, I believe were her words,” Floret said. “I didn’t expect it to be so soon. When I first saw you, I thought . . . But it’s no matter.”

  “It looks rather difficult to open,” Henry said. “Would you like me to take off the outer wrappings?”

  Zoe nodded; she was shaking so much she didn’t think she could even close her fingers around the little knife, much less use it without doing more injury to her hands.

  It only took a few graceful swipes to reveal a box, about the size of a shirt gift box. Henry handed it to her.

  She placed it in her lap, afraid to open it. She wanted to think this was some kind of game, a con, maybe, but for what reason? And how did they know all this? She pulled the top off. Whatever was inside was covered with tissue paper. She peeled it back to find a layer of bubble wrap.

  She touched it, her smile wavering from reminiscence to grief. It was so her mother, this overkill of protection. She unrolled the bubble wrap and finally came to the object. Lifted it out. No reason to try to be private. They seemed to know everything already. Maybe they already knew what it was.

  She held up a delicate piece of hammered bronze, formed into the shape of a heart. The action set off a cascade of clear sound as five smaller glass hearts danced on thin silver threads. Wind chimes.

  Panic chased wonder into Zoe’s throat. “I don’t understand. She wants me to hang these at the beach?”

  Floret nodded, and touched the metal heart, a gesture as soft as a caress. Zoe could see all the wrinkles in her face now. A tear ran down her cheek. “That’s exactly what she wants.”

  Wanted. What she wanted. “But why? How did she know about this place? Did you know her? What am I doing here?”

  Zoe darted a look to David, possibly the only sane person in the room. But he was now staring at the plate of cookies.

  “You’ve brought her home,” Floret said, still fingering the heart.

  Home? “Home? She’s from Long Island.”

  Henry exhaled, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a song. “The heart can have many homes.”

  They were all totally bonkers. “I have to go.” Zoe tried to get up but a small, gentle hand on her arm prevented her.

  Floret.

  Henry leaned over the table and brushed the last piece of tissue paper from the box. A white legal-size envelope was taped to the bottom. Across the front, Zoe’s name was written in her mother’s neat copperplate hand.

  Zoe’s fingers were trembling so much, she couldn’t even pull the tape away. Henry took the envelope from the box, used his penknife to slit it open. When he handed it to her, she swore there were tears in his eyes, or maybe the tears were in her own eyes.

  It took two tries but at last the letter was open in her hands. Was she going to read this in front of them all? Shouldn’t she take it back to the hotel so she could be alone?

  Dear Dilly. Her mother’s pet name for her. It had soothed her as a child; it soothed her now.

  You were my life, Zoe. I knew you would be. And you’ve never disappointed me. I’m so proud of you. Something I could never feel about myself.

  Your mother is and has always been a coward. And because I couldn’t stand up for wh
at I wanted, I made some tragic, tragic mistakes.

  I’m going to try to rectify some of them now that I am obviously dead. I know you will fulfill my wishes about my remains. But there are other things I wish, I need, you to do.

  It’s a long story and Henry and Floret can tell it better than I ever could.

  Zoe looked up at Henry and Floret. Henry smiled encouragingly, but Floret had succumbed to her own tears and sat statue-still as they streamed down her sunken cheeks.

  What mistakes, Mom? You didn’t make mistakes. You were a great mother.

  I hope you and the boys know I love you all with my entire being. A mother couldn’t have had better children. And I hope I did well enough that you know this.

  “You did,” Zoe said. “Always.”

  But I didn’t do so well for another. In fact, I made an unforgivable choice. I’m afraid it’s too late to rectify what I did, but I hope with all my heart that you will try to do it for me.

  Zoe shook her head. She didn’t understand.

  Henry handed her a large white handkerchief, which she took and wiped her eyes and nose.

  Look closely at my wind chimes, which I hope you will hang in the glen above Wind Chime Beach. All my children together at last.

  Zoe frowned. There were five little hearts. What the hell was happening here? You had four children, Mom. Me and Chris and Robert and Errol.

  There is one whom I never acknowledged in life except in my heart. But she never left my heart and I hope you can see your way to letting her know, since I can’t.

  You are among my dearest friends. They will guide you through and see you safe.

  The same words Floret had spoken to her less than twenty-four hours ago. Zoe reached the end of the page and moved to the next.

  You have a sister. Her name is Eve. You’ve probably met her by now. She runs the local inn. I was certain that one day you would find your way there. I don’t know how many years have passed or if it has only been days. I wish I could see my two daughters together. I should have insisted on it. Maybe I will before I die, but just in case, I wanted you to know.

  “Eve? At the inn?”

  Floret smiled but didn’t answer.

  Zoe found her place, kept reading.

  The world is a hard place. You wouldn’t think to look at me or to know me that my heart was broken early on and I’ve been broken ever since. So I’ll just lay it out as briefly as I can and leave Floret and Henry to fill in the rest.

  When I was young I met my soul mate. Are you laughing, dear Dilly, to hear your suburban mom say things like ‘soul mate’? Sometimes I thought you guessed at the things I tried to hide, refused to accept. But perhaps that was just my hope.

  I was a coward. I’ve always been a coward. I gave in to my parents and gave away the child we had created, Eve. She was adopted by his family.

  But I didn’t leave her in spirit and I tried to stay in touch with her; wrote her so many letters. At first I was just desperate for news of her. Later I wanted to share so many motherly things with her. Things I shared with you. At first it nearly drove me crazy because I never got a reply. Year after year I wrote, only to get no reply. But then I began to wonder and then to hope she never received them, because if she had and she never tried to get in touch with me, and if that was her choice, it would break my heart beyond repair.

  Please let her know that I loved her and it ripped a part of my heart out when I had to leave her. Let her know I’m so proud of her, I came to her high school graduation, I wanted so much to tell her how proud I was and how much I loved her, but I didn’t want to cause a scene. Hannah and Lee must hate me so much.

  I am so proud of you both. And I’m more afraid of what I must say now, than I have ever been in my life. I saw Eve’s father once after I was taken away. It was years later. He was still angry. And so was I because our bond was stronger than ever even after all the years apart.

  He was performing at the coliseum. I went and was let backstage. The rest, as they say, is history. And you became my beloved surprise baby. Lee Gordon is your biological father. I never told him about you. I’d caused him too much heartache as it was.

  I’d lost one daughter and I refused to have the other stigmatized by my weakness. You became my precious secret.

  My wonderful, precious secret.

  I told no one. I suspect George knew. We weren’t so happy in those days as we had been. But he was a good father to you in spite of it all. And I hope I was a good mother.

  So there you have it. My confession of a life not in my control. I hope you will forgive me and grow to love your sister as I have loved the both of you. Introduce her to her half brothers, and beg her to forgive me, though I expect it won’t matter much to anyone.

  I hope the two of you can be friends and sisters, my beautiful daughters.

  Love,

  Mom

  “Love, Mom”? What the hell? You drop a bombshell like that and then end it with “Love, Mom”? She might as well have finished with a smiley face.

  Lee Gordon was her father. Could it be true, that bitter old man? No, George Bascombe was her father—the same father who had left his family for another woman and another family.

  Eve Gordon was her sister. Her sister. And Eve’s children . . .

  “No.” Zoe pushed herself up using the table for support. “No.”

  Floret smiled up at her. “There is so much she wants you to know.”

  Wanted. Wanted me to know. She’s gone.

  Zoe looked wildly around. She had to get out. Henry and Floret’s acceptance and serenity were suffocating her. And David Merrick’s indifference was humiliating.

  She wanted—needed—to know everything.

  But Henry stood. “We’ll tell you everything we remember, and you can catch us up on the rest, but later. First, you need to see Eve and tell her about the letter. She’s been waiting a long time to hear those words.”

  Chapter 10

  Eve came back from Mike’s feeling a bit calmer and determined to confront both Noelle and Mel about their futures. She was still undecided about how much to tell them about her suspicions about Zoe Bascombe, but when she entered the cottage she was granted a mini reprieve. No one was there.

  She changed clothes and hurried over to the office.

  Noelle was waiting for her. She jumped up from the desk chair. “I thought you’d never get back. Are you still upset?”

  “No. But we need to have a family sit-down and figure things out.”

  “Don’t worry, things will work out. I’ll get a job. You said yourself it’s early days yet. But . . .”

  “I know you will. But what?”

  “The strangest thing happened after you left.”

  “With Mel?”

  “No. She went to her room, then I heard her leave a few minutes later. It’s something that happened a couple of hours after that. I came out to the lobby to see if you or Mel were here. And I saw, or thought I saw, Mel. She’d cut her hair and dyed it. I thought maybe when she left this morning, she’d gone out and done it out of spite just to be rebellious, you know?”

  Eve nodded, but she had a dreaded idea of where this was going.

  “And I went right up to her and told her so.”

  “And?”

  “It wasn’t Mel. It was one of the guests. I apologized the best I could, but, Mom, I was sure it was Mel. From the back she looked just like her and then when she turned around, for a split second she still looked like Mel. Then the image went away and she was just this nice-looking young woman whom I’d never seen before.”

  “Zoe Bascombe,” Eve said.

  Noelle bit her upper lip, something she’d always done when she was impatient. “So . . . ?”

  “She does look a little like—” Oh hell, best just to come out and say it. Eve shut the door. “I think she might be my half sister.”

  Noelle’s mouth dropped open. “Wow. You have a half sister? Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I didn
’t know.”

  “It’s like one of those reality shows. That’s so cool. And it means we have an aunt who actually might like us. That’s fantastic.” She frowned. “Wait. What do you mean she might be? Aren’t you sure? Is that why she’s here? To look for you? I swear it’s just like TV. Did you Google her?” Noelle sat back down in the desk chair and pulled up the internet.

  “Of course I Googled her. We have the same mother. Jenny Bascombe née Campbell. At least, the names are the same. And between her resemblance to Mel and the way your grandfather has been acting . . .”

  “Granddad recognized her?”

  “Actually, I think maybe Granddad thought she was Jenny Bascombe, come back to haunt him.”

  “Yikes.”

  Eve reached into her pocket and pulled out the two photos of Mel and a younger Zoe. She unfolded them and placed them on the desk.

  “Holy cow,” Noelle said. “They could be sisters. Have you talked to her? Does she know?”

  “I have no idea, though why else come here?”

  “Well, ask her.”

  “I will, I’m just waiting for the right time. And, Noelle, let’s just keep this between us for now.”

  “You’d better go after her, David,” Henry said as he watched Zoe Bascombe walk away from the house.

  “Me? And do what?” David hadn’t wanted to be a part of this disclosure thing. If he’d known what was about to go down, he would have refused. No, he wouldn’t. He didn’t refuse Floret or Henry anything. They never asked for anything he couldn’t or wasn’t willing to give.

  But this seemed too intimate for him to go bungling into.

  “Just make sure she gets back to the inn safely. I don’t think she was prepared for all this news at once. Strange that Jenny never told her anything.”

  “Aw, jeez.”

  “And take her this,” Floret said, coming to stand beside him. She handed him a small jar. “It’s for her hands. Some of those cuts looked angry.”

  “They’re splinters from the beach stairs.”

  “I did tell her they were rotten,” Floret said. “Well, this salve will heal them nicely.”