by ML Gardner
“How far down did you guys put this thing?” He smiled at her, the sun glinting off his hair, and she felt lightheaded. It was surreal. Him on his knees, digging up the memorial box, his smile, just his being here, living and breathing, seemed like it was too good to be true. She dropped to her knees beside him. She couldn’t help it. Grabbing his face, she kissed him. After what wasn’t nearly long enough for her, she sensed others on the beach and released him.
An older couple passed them a moment later, walking slowly and grinning.
“Good to have you back, Aryl,” the older gentleman called.
“It’s good to be back.” He waved. After they passed he turned to Claire. “Who the hell was that?”
She giggled. “I have no idea. Word travels fast though.”
He reached back into the hole. “I’m going to have to talk to Jon about the way he buries things.”
“How do you know it was him?”
“Because, when we were kids he had this goldfish. It died and we buried it. I just dug a few inches down and Jon kept saying, no, go deeper. I think that goldfish ended up two feet down when it was all said and done. Same thing with his rabbit.” He smiled at her again, leaning far over into the hole. “That’s how I know this was him.” His eyebrows shot up. “I think I feel something.” He wrestled with it, pulling hard and as the wet sand finally released it, he grunted, nearly falling backwards. He sat on his knees setting the box on the sand in front of him.
Claire stared at it. She recalled the horrible sadness she’d felt the last time she’d seen it, and wiped away a sudden tear.
“You want me to open it?” he asked, brushing the top clean. “We could always wait.”
“No, open it.”
He did and moved around all the small mementos, searching for the ring. When he found it he rose up on his knees and held it out to her. She stepped forward and reached for it.
“Wait, you don’t think I’m going to let you put your ring back on yourself, do you?”
She smiled and held her hand out, palm down. He put it to the tip of her finger and paused.
“I know the last few days have been—” He frowned searching for the words. “I just want you to know that I am glad I’m back. I am glad I remembered, and I’m glad to be putting this ring on your finger again.”
“I am, too, Aryl. You have no idea.”
“Just don’t give up on me.”
“What?”
“I know that you thought I was dead and moved on to marry Gordon but now that I’m back, please don’t give up on me.”
She went down on her knees to look him in the eyes.
“Why on earth would you ask me that?” She touched his face, searching his eyes.
“I’m a little different now. I’m sure you’ve noticed that. I’m dealing with a lot of things that I can’t talk to you about right now. I just need to know you won’t give up on us. No matter what.
“I will never give up on you, or us, Aryl. Ever. I promise.”
He slipped the ring on her finger as the lighthouse sounded its foghorn behind them. He looked toward the beacon.
“It’s barely sunset and not even foggy.”
“Maybe it’s for us.” She smiled and took his hands. “Maybe it’s time we go back to our lighthouse.”
The joy drained from his face. “Not yet.”
She bit her lip. Their first night together had been a disaster. The second they seemed afraid to touch each other and the third when they had tried, he was distracted and unable. So far, the romance of her love returning to her stopped at the bedroom door.
“We could go just to go,” she suggested. “We don’t have to do anything. You told me you need some time and that’s fine.”
“Soon. I promise,” he said, standing and tucking the box under his arm. “For now, walk with me?”
“Don’t you want to see what else is in the box?”
“Later.”
May 6th 1931
Arianna and Ava knocked on Claire’s door. They were both light and happy delivering dishes and treats under these circumstances. A completely different feeling than before when they would come to check on Claire, disheveled and depressed.
She opened the door and invited them in. Arianna looked around expectantly.
“Where’s Aryl?”
“Oh, he’s sleeping.”
Ava glanced at the clock. “It’s three in the afternoon.”
“I know. He seems to be a bit of a night owl.”
“He never used to be that way.”
Claire took the dish from Ava and tried to brush past the topic.
“You guys really shouldn’t have, but thank you.”
“Well, we figured this would be something like a honeymoon, you know.” Arianna wiggled her eyebrows. “No time to cook.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” She took the dish to the kitchen, placed it in the ice box and hesitated returning to the living room. When she did, Arianna took her arm and pulled her to the couch.
“Sit. Talk,” she said.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Arianna stared at her.
“Honest. It’s wonderful to have him back,” she said, smiling.
“You mean to tell me that after the most impossibly romantic reunion I have ever seen, there’s nothing to tell? You had to know we’d be over for details.”
“Well, you would be,” Ava said to Arianna with a teasing smile. “I just want to know it’s all going well. Not everyone thinks like her,” Ava assured Claire, gesturing to Arianna.
“Yes, they do. They just won’t admit it. And don’t pretend you’re so prudent that you don’t want to know all the details, Ava. I mean really, after something like this they had to have torn each other apart.”
Ava laughed and Claire blushed fiercely again from a different kind of embarrassment.
“No. Not really,” she said tentatively. “He’s kissed me.”
Arianna’s face fell flat. “You have to give us more than that.”
“There’s nothing to give!” she said a little too loudly and glanced at the staircase.
“You mean you haven’t?” Arianna asked.
“No,” Claire said with a squirming blush. “He needs some time.”
“Some…time?”
“Yes, he’s having a hard time adjusting to everything.”
“O…kay.”
“It’s just that he’s a little different now. And I’m not sure why, exactly.”
“Have you gotten it out of him where he’s been?” Ava asked.
“No, he won’t talk about it. To be honest, I think it—” She stopped and looked down feeling silly.
“It what?” Arianna asked.
“I think, whatever happened, wherever he’s been…it haunts him.”
Arianna sat back with surprise. “Haunts him?”
“I don’t know, but he has nightmares. That’s what keeps him up at night. And when we’ve tried to…you know—”
Arianna leaned forward. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“No,” Claire said with her eyes bulged. “We aren’t. He can’t.” Her voice was both disapproving of Arianna’s tone and the situation at hand. “He doesn’t eat a lot and there are times when—” She glanced toward the stairs and lowered her voice. “When he’s fine one minute and then he’s really nervous, almost fitful and angry. Like the first night he came back when he exploded at his mother. He leaves the room and when he comes back he’s fine. And for a little while, he’s like he used to be.”
Arianna sat expectantly for more as Claire finished. “I am so glad to have him back.” She smiled sincerely. “It’s just not what I expected.”
“Is it ever?” Arianna said with a disappointed sigh.
May 7th 1931
“They told me I could find you here.” Aryl walked into the barn as Caleb just finished cleaning a stall. “That was a nice party you had for your kids. I can’t believe they’re a year old.”
The goat trotted up to Aryl, sniffing and nuzzling his leg.
“Damn, he’s an ugly little guy.”
“Hey, that’s my goat. He’s a good goat. We’ve been through some hard times together.” Caleb set the pitchfork against the wall and clicked his tongue. The goat bounded over to him.
“Well, he can’t be any good for conversation,” Aryl said with a smile.
“You’d be surprised,” Caleb said, scratching the goat’s head.
“Is this my replacement? Is this who’s been sitting on the bench with you and Jon after I left?” He chuckled.
Caleb stood up. “You didn’t leave. You died. Or so we thought.”
“You know what I mean.”
Aryl sat on a hay bale and held his hand out to the goat, which began sniffing and licking it. “Does he have a name? It is a he, right?”
“It’s a he and I just call him goat.”
Aryl bent down to get on eye level with it. “Sorry lil guy, but I’m back now and fully plan on taking my place on the bench. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I saw Claire earlier. She looked like she’d been crying.”
Aryl sat up straighter and lost most of his smile. “Just still overwhelmed that I’m back, I guess.”
“Is it hard? Being back, I mean. Sometimes you look like it’s hard.”
“A little.”
Caleb stopped working and watched him for a moment. “Where were you, Aryl? All this time we’ve been crying and grieving and trying like hell to find a way to keep going another day, where were you?”
Aryl stiffened. What was left of his smile vanished. “I’ll tell you, a little anyway, but I don’t want you running your mouth.”
Caleb agreed.
“England. And France. Mainly England.”
“What the hell were you doing there?”
“Working, mostly.”
“Working? In England? You just hit your head, a ship dropped you off in England and you didn’t know your name, but you got a job?”
Aryl gave a lopsided smile. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“What kind of work did you do there?”
He clenched his jaw and dropped his eyes. “I did all sorts of things.”
“Did you meet anyone there?”
“I met lots of people.”
“Did you make friends?”
“Sure.”
“Do you miss them?”
Aryl stopped to think for a moment. “A few. Others, not so much.”
“Did you meet any women there? Or did you spend the whole time a nameless monk?” Caleb had a way of wandering around half tuned in to the rest of the world. But with this situation, Aryl’s behavior and Claire’s crying, he honed in like a hawk. With the help, of course, from a talkative wife.
“Jonathan said you wanted to talk to me. That’s why I came out here.” Not to answer those questions, his expression said.
“I did. I wanted an explanation, is all. Where you’ve been, how you got there, how you found your way home, all that.”
Aryl shoved his hand through his hair. “Maybe I should just call a town meeting and have ‘Aryl Explains’ hour. Get it over with all at the same time.”
“Why is it so hard to talk about?”
“Because I want to forget about it. It’s not important. And it’s nobody’s business.”
Caleb did a double take. “Nobody’s business? Are you serious right now?”
Aryl looked pained and Caleb sighed. “Hey, I have an idea. I’ll play you for answers.”
“What?”
“We’ll play Blackjack. And I’ll provide drinks.”
“What is this, Caleb’s speakeasy?”
He grinned. “If I tell you a secret, you promise not to tell?”
“Of course. If you don’t say anything about what I told you.”
“Go look in that back stall there. The last one on the right.” Aryl got up and lumbered back, swinging the rusty hinges open.
“Whoa! Where’d you get all this?”
“Long story. Doesn’t matter. And you can’t say a word. I told Jonathan months ago that it was going away. Just grab a few bottles off the top while I get the cards.”
“I won’t say a word. Hey, if you get busted with this, I’ve got amnesia again, my friend.”
Caleb laughed. “Just grab one and get out here.”
Aryl lifted the top crate and froze. He squinted and tilted his head; taking a moment to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.
“All this is what, brandy? Gin?” he called.
“Little bit of everything.”
“So it seems,” Aryl whispered as he bent down and reached into the center of the pile. He pulled the cork out of a bottle and smelled. He closed his eyes. His body washed over with relaxation. Hunger pains growled from somewhere deep in his soul.
“What’s taking you so long?” Caleb yelled. “I can’t shuffle forever.”
“I know you, Caleb, and you’re probably setting the deck.”
“If you don’t hurry, I will.”
“Just deciding between gin and brandy.”
Caleb stopped suddenly and his eyes flashed. He dropped the cards and walked to the back of the barn just in time to see Aryl coming out, holding a bottle of cherry brandy.
“Will this do?”
“Yeah,” Caleb said, eying the stack over his shoulder. Everything seemed to be in order. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed the stall door.
“You didn’t have to be a baby and throw the cards down,” Aryl said, grinning.
“Well, if you didn’t move as slow as an old lady, I wouldn’t have.”
Aryl opened the bottle while Caleb picked up the cards.
“So, Blackjack for answers, huh?”
“Sure. Why not.”
“We should get Jon.”
Caleb shook his head. “Let’s keep it just us for now.”
Aryl’s eyes were wide and excited. “No, I’m gonna go get him. That way I won’t have to repeat myself later.”
“How am I going to explain the brandy? He doesn’t know I have it.”
“I’ll say it’s mine.” He held up a finger. “I’ll be right back.” He grinned and jogged to the door.
Caleb sighed and slammed the cards on the table. He eyed the bottle and shook his head. Only for fun times, he reminded himself of his promise to Arianna. He bounced his leg, waiting impatiently. Something bigger nagged at him.
He rose with a start and opened the door to the stall. He put his hands on the top crate, but then stopped. Deep down, he really didn’t want to know. But, deeper down, he knew it would explain a good many things about Aryl’s behavior since he’d returned home. And if any opiates were missing, he’d have his own explaining to do to Marvin. He lifted the crate quickly, jerking it off to the side with closed eyes. He opened them and his shoulders dropped.
“Oh, no.”
Three bottles from the top were missing. He knew Aryl wouldn’t be back today.
His first instinct was to run to Jonathan and tell him, get his help. But he couldn’t. Jonathan thought the stuff had been moved. He felt trapped and picked up a bottle of gin, very much wanting to indulge. To forget the mess he’d gotten himself into.
May 11th 1931
Claire knew she was doing the right thing as she set out for Gordon’s, even if it was going to be hard on both of them. Gordon had been good to her. And even though she wasn’t in love with him, she did care about him a lot. She was even sure that with time, she would have loved him. He had helped her through the worst time in her life and she couldn’t simply never speak to him again after getting ousted from his own wedding. She owed him more than that.
She knocked on the door and took a deep breath, suddenly not wanting to do this. She fought the urge to run away.
He peeked through the curtain and there was a delay in opening the door. When he did, he tried to smile.
“Hi, Gordon.”
They simply stared at each other. Finally Gordon spoke. “I’m happy for you, Claire. Really, I am. It’s a miracle.”
“I want to apologize, but that feels wrong. I’m not sorry he came back. I am sorry that you might be hurting.”
“Might be?” He gave a gruff laugh. “I think it’s safe to say that.”
“I never wanted to see you hurt.”
“I know that, Claire. This whole thing, it’s a happy ending for you, a one in a million happy ending at that, and tough luck for me.” He shrugged. “But, if it had been Marjorie that showed up right before we said our vows, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have run right into her arms. Maura talked to me for a bit after I left that day.”
“So you don’t hate me then?”
“No, I don’t hate you.”
“I’ll never forget what you did for me,” she said, beginning to get choked up. “How much you helped me to feel alive again. How much you cared. I’ll always be grateful.”
He nodded, his face beginning to reveal stinging emotion.
“You’re welcome,” he managed. Clearing his throat he stepped back. “I’ve got something in the oven, if you don’t mind. Best of luck, Claire.” And he closed the door.
She stood for a moment not feeling ready to leave. Not sure what she wanted to accomplish out of coming here, she didn’t feel like she’d done anything but further upset his day.
May 16th 1931
Caleb knocked on the door, worried that Aryl would be the one to open it. Thankfully, Claire did. She looked tired, her hair a bit unkempt and she seemed thinner. She held Jac around the belly, facing out. He stared, as he did with every visitor.
“Oh, hey, Caleb. Come in.”
He stepped inside and looked around. “If you’re here for Aryl, he’s still sleeping.”
Caleb glanced at his watch. “It’s almost noon.”
She averted his eyes and focused on the baby. “Well, he had a rough night. Trouble sleeping. And, it’s Saturday, so…” She shrugged her shoulders.
“That’s okay. I’m here to talk to you anyway.”
“Me? Why?” Jac began to fuss and she turned him around against her shoulder, patting his back.