by T. K. Chapin
“I’m sure Joe’s busy at the car lot.”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? He was laid off a couple of weeks back. He’s on unemployment now. He has all the time in the world while he waits for callbacks on applications he’s turned in. He’d probably love for you to stop by. He’s tinkering with his Chevy.”
“When did he get a Chevy?” I asked, my interest piqued.
“There’s that smile.” She laughed. “Anyway. He got it about a month ago. You know, after his dad passed. You didn’t hear about that either?”
“I didn’t . . . He got the ‘67 Chevelle, eh?”
“Yep. He didn’t mention it at The Home Port? I’m surprised he didn’t. He knows how much you love your cars.”
“No, he didn’t mention it,” I replied.
“Stop by the house anytime.”
“I might take you up on that offer.”
Pushing my cart down the aisle, I thought back to the car show last summer. Joe’s Dad had entered his black 1967 Chevelle SS 396 into the car show and walked away with an easy five-hundred-dollar prize for Best in Show. He didn’t enter the car shows for the money; he did it for the conversations with the other guys his age that would go to all the same shows up and down the west coast. He was a good man, a deacon in the church and one of the godliest men I had ever met.
After getting all the groceries put away back at the cabin, I went into the living room and called Denise. I told her about Joe’s father dying and about running into Betty at the store.
“Oh. I forgot to tell you. I met this kid on the beach this morning.”
“A kid?”
“Yeah. He was maybe seven or eight years old. Just walking down the beach at seven o’clock in the morning without a care in the world. No parent or anything.”
“Ocean Shores is a bit of a ‘keep your doors unlocked’ type of a community.”
“Yeah, but still. It was strange. He informed me his parents weren’t around.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said they died. He kept referring to a guy named Charlie as the one who looked after him.”
“Did you get him back to the Charlie guy?”
“Yeah. He seemed mean. They live right off the beach.”
“Where at on the beach?”
“You know that green house about a mile up from the access point?”
“How am I supposed to remember that?” she asked with a short laugh.
“You know the one. It’s broken down and kinda has some overgrowth in the sand dunes in front of it.”
“Oh, wait. The one with the big, oddly placed rock in the sand dune?”
“Yep.”
She began crying.
My eyes widened. “What?” I asked, leaning forward on the edge of the couch. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?”
“No.” She sniffed. “It’s going to sound weird, but Jasmine danced on that rock two years ago.”
Thinking back to the summer she was sixteen, I recalled the memory. She climbed up the rock and began dancing and singing. She had moments of silliness like that throughout the years. Sighing, I said, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m just being emotional.”
“It’s hard. I understand that, Denise. There’s no getting around it.”
She sniffed again and changed the subject. “Are you going to church tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. Looking over at my Bible sitting on the counter, I said, “I know I need to.”
“Me too . . . I get sick of people talking to me about the accident, though.”
“It gets old.”
“Megan stopped by today. She brought me a gift basket of bath oils and stuff as a gift from her and Cole.”
“That was sweet of them,” I replied, knowing that Cole was trying to look out for Denise and make sure she was doing okay. He had my back no matter what the situation was.
“She said she wanted to check in and make sure everything was okay. Made me feel good to be thought of.”
I smiled. “It’s those little things that really touch the heart. Isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” “Hey, Micah . . .”
“Yeah?”
“We’re going to be okay someday, right?”
“Yeah. We’re going to be okay.”
CHAPTER 12
On the following morning I headed down to the beach to watch the sunrise. I was also a bit curious if I’d see the boy out traversing the sandy beach again. Sure enough, he was. I walked across the sand and up to him. “Good morning, William.”
“Mister,” he said as he turned and continued walking past me down the beach. I noticed a bruise on his cheek.
Grabbing his shoulder, I stopped him and said, “How’d that bruise get on you?”
He cupped his face and said softly, “I fell.” He shrugged my hand off him and kept going. I followed along with him down the shoreline.
“Is that what really happened?”
He didn’t respond. Instead he just kept walking.
“Did that Charlie guy hurt you?” I asked.
He stopped and looked up at me. “No. Why do you care so much?”
“If he hit you?” Glancing up the beach toward his house, I continued, “I don’t think any child should be harmed. It’s not right.”
He dipped his chin to his chest and continued walking without a word. I decided not to follow him this time; instead I stayed back and just let him walk alone. Taking a seat in the sand, I watched as William walked up and down the beach. He’d stop every few steps to pick up some random rock that caught his eye and then continue on. He went far enough down the beach that I couldn’t even see him. Then he turned back and began working his way up the shore again.
As he stopped near me to pick up a rock, I asked, “Could I see the rocks?”
He came over to me and emptied his pockets out in the sand in front of me. A random collection of grays, blacks and even a few pieces of driftwood made it into the assortment.
“Why do you collect them?” I asked.
He shrugged as he looked down at the rocks and sat crisscrossed across from me. “I like how God made them all different. He made them unique. Like me.”
“Wow. That’s pretty profound for a seven-year-old.”
“I’m not seven. I’m eight and a half.” He glanced down toward the direction of his house. “I better go home.”
Standing up, I said, “I’ll walk you.”
“No!” he demanded, pushing out a hand as he scooped up the rocks with his other.
“All right. All right. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” After making sure his rocks were all securely in his pockets, he ventured down the beach.
I watched him as he walked and wondered what this little boy’s story was. Who was Charlie, and was he lying about the bruise not being from him?
Later that day, after lunch, I drove to Joe’s place that was a few houses up from mine. There was a chilly wind in the air, so driving made more sense. When I pulled into the driveway I could see Joe working on the Chevelle just inside the open garage. Parking, I got out and smiled as I approached the garage and took in the view of the classic piece of American history. The black paint was immaculate and I could hardly believe there was an issue with the car that he would have to be fixing.
“Hey, Joe,” I said, coming up to his feet that were sticking out from underneath the front of the car.
He slid out from underneath the car and smiled as he wiped his hand off with the dirty towel he had tucked in his jean pocket. He extended his hand to me, and I grabbed it and helped him up to his feet.
“How’s it going?”
“I’m okay. Betty told me about your Dad. Sorry to hear that.”
He looked down for a moment and nodded. “Circle of life, ya know?”
“Yep.”
He turned and looked at the car. “Got the car. Was pretty stoked about it until I discovered some hose leaks. But at least
that’s minor.”
“That’s not too bad,” I replied as I looked the car over. “You going to continue on the legacy and take it to the car shows this summer?”
“Oh, yeah,” he replied as looked at the car. He let his fingers glide across the smooth exterior of the car as he began to walk around it. Pausing at the passenger side door, he looked over at me. “Loss is hard.”
“Yeah, it is,” I replied. I could see Joe’s hurt in his eyes. He was going through something similar to me and I felt obligated to say something about Jasmine. “I lost Jasmine a few weeks ago.”
His eyes went wide. “What?”
I looked down and fixated my eyes on an oil stain on the smooth cement floor. Keeping my eyes locked on it, I said, “Car accident.”
Joe came around the car and to me. “I’m so sorry, man. I wouldn’t have been that way at The Home Port if I had any idea.”
“It’s okay,” I replied as tears welled in my eyes. Joe shook his head.
“That is a parent’s worst nightmare. I’m sorry you had to go through it.”
“It’ll be all right.”
“Does Pastor Clarkson know?”
“Yeah. He probably saw the status update I sent out.”
He nodded. “I’m a little out of the loop with how much I’m disconnected.”
“Yeah, but you’re doing it for the right reasons. You don’t need to be bombarded by all the drama of the world on there.”
“Yeah. Thankfully the wife agrees with my choice and doesn’t tell me things she learns. She struggled at first, but she’s been doing pretty well. It can be hard at times, like this, for instance, but truly I have been relying on God more than ever after losing the job at the dealership.”
“You looking for work?”
He shrugged. “Here and there; I’m picking up side jobs.” Glancing at the car, he said, “Worst case scenario is I don’t take the car to the shows this summer and I sell this baby.”
“You can’t sell that, man. It was your Dad’s car.”
“I need to take care of my family more than anything. I’ll have Betty snap a picture of me and it and sell it if it comes down to it. I’m not going to let my family struggle so I can keep a hunk of metal.”
My eyebrows went up.
“Sorry, I know how much cars mean to you.”
“No, no. I’m intrigued.”
“It’s more than just using the money to pay bills. Medical debt from the kids and wife are stacking up. That was true even when we had medical through the dealership.” He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. Looking at me, he smiled and said, “But God’s good and I’m thankful. It’s just a car that I can’t take to heaven when all is said and done.”
I nodded. “That’s true.”
“By the way, we missed you at Church this morning. I was hoping you’d be there.”
“Yeah. I didn’t go,” I replied with a sharp tone.
He paused and looked at me for a moment. I made eye contact with him, and he narrowed his gaze at me. “You have a beef with God?”
I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “That’s between God and me.”
“I’ll keep praying for you. The pain in this life doesn’t define who we are; God does.”
“I know. Just hard at moments.”
“I understand.”
Joe and I finished checking hoses and replaced the ones that we could find that were damaged. He wasn’t as obnoxious as I remembered him from the other visits I’d had to Ocean Shores. It was nice spending time with the guy. Once we were done a few hours later, my stomach was growling.
“I’d better get home and eat.”
“Join us for dinner,” he offered. “Betty’s making a ham and there’s plenty of food.”
“I couldn’t impose,” I replied, raising a hand.
“I insist. You helped me out today with the car. Just join us for a meal.”
“All right,” I replied with a smile.
We walked up the cement path to the house. We went inside and took off our coats, hanging them on the coat rack near the door. The smell of ham filled the air inside as I took a seat on the couch in the living room.
“You joining us for dinner?” Betty asked, walking in from the kitchen.
“Yep. Your husband extended an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Joe laughed. “I didn’t give him much of an option.”
“Good!” Betty said, smiling. “Take a seat in the dining room. Dinner is ready; I just need to get the kids.”
Going into the dining room, I smiled as I looked out the giant bay window that overlooked the ocean down below. They had a marvelous beachfront view, which was closer to the ocean than my cabin, even though we were only a few houses apart. I could see right down onto the beach and could even see the seagulls landing and taking off.
Sitting down, I unfolded the napkin that was on a plate in front of me and set it in my lap as the family joined me at the table. Betty brought in the pot of mashed potatoes, corn and a basket of rolls while Joe brought in the sliced ham on a serving platter. It all looked amazing.
Joe blessed the food and everyone began eating. Not long into the meal I spotted someone down on the beach out of the corner of my eye. It was a child. Wondering if it was William, I stood up and set my napkin down on the table next to my plate. Going over to the window, I squinted and looked.
“What do you see? An ocean?” Joe asked with a chuckle.
I smiled and replied, “I’m seeing if that kid is the same one I’ve been seeing on the beach the last couple of mornings.”
“You’ve been meeting a kid on the beach?” Betty asked.
I saw the kid bend down and grab something from the sand.
“It’s him,” I said, going for the sliding door.
“What are you doing?” Joe asked.
“I’m going to go see how he is. I’ll be back.”
Going out the back door, I hurried down the wooden steps that led all the way down to the beach.
I ran up to him and he stopped and looked at me. He was bundled up tightly in a jacket with a scarf and a beanie this time. Muffled, he said, “Hi, Mister.”
“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing and going to get dark soon. You were looking for rocks again?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself to keep my warmth.
He shook his head. “I did find one. But I mostly just came to walk the beach. Do some thinking.”
“You’re eight years old. What do you have to think about?”
He didn’t reply, just looked at the sand he was kicking between his sneakers. “Sometimes I think about my parents.”
“You remember them?” I asked.
“A little.”
“How long ago did they . . .”
“Die? Few years ago.”
Glancing back up at Joe’s house, I could see him and Betty staring down at us. Turning my attention back to William, I asked, “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“No.”
“You want to come meet some friends of mine? There is plenty of food to eat and it’s warm inside.”
“Okay.”
We walked up the shore and went up the steps back up to Joe’s house. As we got up to the door, I said, “I’ll drive you home in a bit. After we eat.”
He undid his scarf and revealed a smile. “Thanks, Mister.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied, returning a smile as I opened the door.
“Hello there, William,” Betty said, bending at the knees to meet William eye level. “Would you like some ham?”
“You know him?” I asked.
“He goes to our church. You would have known that if you came today,” Joe said with a smile.
William nodded and smiled at Betty. “That’d be great, Mrs. Edmunds.”
“Such a sweet boy,” Betty said, rising to her feet and heading into the kitchen.
Sitting down at the table next to Lonnie, William looked over at him and said, “hi.”
Lonnie was
fourteen and smiled at him. “Hey.”
“You’re Charlie Prescott’s young’un, right?”
He nodded.
Betty came in from the kitchen and set a plate down with silverware in front of William while I took my seat back at the dining table next to Joe.
“What’s your favorite thing about the beach?” Joe asked.
“I’m guessing the rocks,” I said.
“Let the kid answer,” Joe laughed.
“God,” William said.
Everyone stopped eating and looked over at the kid. Joe set his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “God?”
“Yeah,” the kid replied.
“What about Him?” Joe asked, leaning in as he rested his chin on his hand.
“He knows how many pieces of sand are on that beach. He made the fish in the ocean and created everything you can see.”
“He did,” Joe said, nodding as he smiled. “Your grandpa must be doing a swell job with you.”
William ignored the comment and looked toward the window as the sun was setting. “It’s comforting to know how big God is, and that beach reminds me of it every day.”
Everyone’s eyes widened at the dinner table. Who was this kid? I wondered. If only I could capture his relentless faith.
“Out of the mouths of babes comes wisdom!” Joe said with a clap. “Wow!” He said as he picked up his fork and took another bite of his ham. Shaking his fork at William as he finished his bite, he said, “Your faith is inspiring!”
“Thanks,” William replied as he grabbed a roll and a few slabs of ham off the plate in the middle of the table. He looked so happy to be around these people. I felt like I did the right thing bringing him inside from the shore.
CHAPTER 13
After an enjoyable meal and a visit with the Edmunds it was time to take William home. Getting into the truck and firing it up, I let the engine warm up and rubbed my hands together to gather warmth. Sounds of sniffling came from William in the passenger seat.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Didn’t you have a good time with the Edmunds?”
“It’s not that,” he replied, wiping his eyes.