Cottage at the Beach (The Off Season)
Page 23
Proud of them, and filled with admiration for Trey.
He was a good man. He’d come to Pleasant Shores with a bad back and a lost job, and he still had those things, but rather than letting that define him, he’d moved forward to help the kids. He’d changed so much since his initial reluctant presentation in the classroom. He’d grown, or maybe just let a side of himself come out that hadn’t been apparent at first.
He was a good man, and last night—was it only last night?—he’d said he wanted to explore a relationship with her.
She’d had to turn him down, but doing that had just about done her in. She didn’t feel like she could ever say life was unfair, not when she looked at all Amber had gone through, but she did wish something could be easy for her for once.
Or not even easy—she didn’t care about that. What she wished for was Trey.
Instead, she’d lost him and she’d lost the job that was the linchpin of her and Amber and Hannah staying here. She’d totally failed.
Ziggy looked up at her and whined, and she rubbed his big head as they trudged past the motel, headed back toward home. Or, at least, what was home for now. It couldn’t be for long, because they couldn’t afford to stay here once Erica’s paychecks stopped coming.
She’d have to tell Amber, but she couldn’t face doing that yet. Which meant she couldn’t go home yet, because her sister knew her too well not to ask her what was wrong, and then what could she say?
A piece of a sign had blown into the driveway in front of the church, jagged and dangerous. She veered over to tug it off the driveway, but it was heavier than she’d expected. She tugged and tugged and then, suddenly, it was easier, and she realized that someone was there to help her. She looked over: Julie.
“I was just on my way to do that when you got there first,” Julie said. “Are you guys okay at your place? Need anything?”
We need everything. But nothing that Julie could provide. “Thanks, but things turned out fine. We found Hannah and Ziggy over on Sunset Lane.”
Julie tilted her head to one side. “Why there?”
“Mr. James caught Ziggy, and Hannah started helping him with the storm damage, and then some of our kids from the academy came over to add their efforts. We’d been working with the folks there as a service project,” she clarified at Julie’s puzzled expression, “and the kids got worried about how they were managing the storm.” She felt a sad surge of pride. Those teenagers had so much to offer the world.
“Impressive,” Julie said with a nod and a lift of her eyebrows. “You’ve done a lot with those kids.”
“Yeah. They’re great.” She choked the words out, and then she couldn’t hold back a few tears that welled up out of her eyes. “Sorry.”
Julie put an arm around Erica. “It’s been a rough couple of days for you. You’re entitled to break down.” She patted Erica’s back. “You’re okay.”
It was what Erica’s mother had always said, and it was the last straw, and she really did break down, and Julie pulled her into a full-on hug. “It’s okay to cry,” she said.
“They’re going to cut my program,” Erica blubbered into Julie’s shoulder.
Julie went still, then pulled back and held her by the shoulders to look at her face. “Who’s cutting the program?”
“Principal O’Neil,” she said, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “He’s been gunning for us forever, and it’s gotten worse since Trey came, and now he plans to make a recommendation to the board. To close us down.” She couldn’t speak anymore.
“Okay. Okay. Maybe there’s something that can be done, but not today.” Julie put an arm around her and walked her toward the street. “Today, you need to go home and take a nice warm bath and relax.”
“Thanks,” she said, meaning it. Julie’s motherly, caring nature was a balm to her spirits. “I’ll be fine.”
Someone called to Julie from the other side of the fence that separated the hotel from the church. “Grandma! We need you!”
Erica stepped out of Julie’s hug and gave her a little push. “Go on.”
Julie looked at her doubtfully and opened her mouth to speak.
“I’m fine, really.” Erica forced a smile to give credence to the words. “You go help your granddaughters. I’m just a hop from home.”
But once Julie was out of sight, Erica turned away from the street and back toward the church. She couldn’t face Amber like this. Amber had enough to deal with.
There was a little courtyard that the church used for early summer services. She made her way around the building to it, Ziggy at her side. Sticks and a few shingles littered the grass, but the stone altar was intact.
She cleaned up the courtyard, letting Ziggy run free. She was comfortable now that he wouldn’t leave her side and she was right. After she’d put the debris in a neat stack beside the trash can, she walked slowly into the church, with some idea of finding comfort there. Ziggy looked up at her inquiringly.
“Come on. It’s okay,” she said, putting her hand down to rest on his head. Normally, of course, she wouldn’t bring her dog into the church, but there didn’t seem to be anyone here, and he was behaving so well.
He nuzzled her hand and then trotted along beside her, down the hall.
If she’d thought that coming into the church would chase away the anguish she felt, she was wrong. Her thoughts wouldn’t let up.
The situation she was in, losing her job and the kids’ special classes, wasn’t solvable or fixable. She knew that because she’d done her best for several months to convince Principal O’Neil to support it and she’d failed.
And she’d tried to tell Trey the truth, but the hard look in his eyes as he blocked it out, reinforced by his anger after the storm, let her know their relationship couldn’t be fixed, either.
With God all things are possible. It was what her mother had said when she’d gotten discouraged as a kid. Her mother had been a woman of faith, more so as she’d gotten sicker.
But she was wrong about all things being possible with God. Getting well hadn’t been possible for Mom, even though she’d had plenty of people praying for her.
Mom had maintained that there was a reason she was being taken so young. Maybe it would make Amber and Erica’s bond stronger. For sure, it had nudged them into genetic and medical testing, which had led to Amber’s cancer being found early. Not early enough, but early.
Those were silver linings, sure, but they didn’t nearly make up for losing Mom. Nothing could make up for that. And now that Erica’s life and her dreams were skidding into a train wreck, she missed her mother so much that her whole chest ached.
She stumbled a little and looked up through tears only to discover that she’d come to the worst possible place for her mood: the church nursery. And maybe she just wanted to punish herself, but she couldn’t resist pushing open the door.
The three cribs along the wall, the sweet-sour smell of babies, the colorful toys piled in a bin—all of it hit Erica harder than the storm had, so hard that she doubled over and sank into a rocking chair, burying her face on her knees.
She’d never be the frazzled mom bringing her baby here, the happy, refreshed mom greeting the caregivers after church, the cranky mom complaining about breastfeeding and messy diapers and lack of sleep. She’d never be a mom, never be one of the moms.
She’d thought she was done with crying, but now the tears came again, harder than ever. Ziggy leaned against her leg, watching her with what looked like worry on his face.
Her own mother had talked so much about the joy of bearing children, the sweetness of babies, the soul-growing challenges of raising kids. “It’s not going to happen,” she whispered, maybe to herself, maybe to her mother’s spirit, maybe to God. “It’s never going to happen.”
Trey had rejected her for that. Maybe Mom would’ve, too.
No.
No one who loved her would blame her for this wretched medical situation. Mom wouldn’t. Amber, Hannah and her friends obviously didn’t.
She wouldn’t blame her own friends if something similar had happened to them.
She kept breathing deeply, and the tears slowed down, then stopped. She picked up a small quilted bear lying beside her rocking chair and studied it. Then she stood, grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped her eyes.
It was sad she couldn’t have children. So, so sad. But everyone had some sadness in their lives, some disappointments.
Being infertile didn’t mean something was wrong with her. Didn’t mean she was bad. Didn’t mean she was less of a woman.
She ran a hand along the rail of an empty crib, leaned over and looked into it. A few more tears fell.
But her sadness felt just a little cleaner now, simpler. It was just sadness. She’d make it through, just as she’d made it through losing Mom.
The sun peeked out from behind a cloud, sending golden light through the suncatchers in the nursery’s window. She and Amber had always loved the suncatchers Mom had put up first, every place they’d lived.
And she remembered what her mother had said to her and Amber, during those dark final days. Always remember you have each other. Lean on each other.
She needed to go home, needed to talk to her big sister. Needed, for once, to let go of being the strong one and let Amber’s love and wisdom give her the strength to go on.
When she stood, she realized that every muscle ached from all the running and work she’d done yesterday. She had a cut on one shin and a bruise on the other.
But they’d made it through the storm. And as she thought about what the kids had done, how they’d helped the elders, a fierce pride rose inside her.
Yes, they’d gotten in trouble for it, pushing the support program over the edge of the cliff into ruin. But that would have happened anyway. The teens’ actions during the storm were just another brick in the wall O’Neil was building to shut them down.
It didn’t mean she couldn’t feel pride in what they’d done. She’d helped, and Trey had helped, and the kids had reached inside and shown their core of steel.
She wouldn’t change a thing about the program or about them. She straightened her spine, clicked her tongue to Ziggy, and headed out of the church and home to her sister.
CHAPTER NINTETEEN
TREY WORKED WITH the cleanup crews all morning, dealing with fallen branches and downed electric lines. It was odd to see the sun out after yesterday’s thick clouds and high winds.
Denny drove down to join in and help, and they ran a chain saw together, cutting up a tree that had fallen across a road and shoveling mud out of someone’s basement. The smell of damp earth was starting to rise, but since it wasn’t too hot and the floodwaters had receded quickly, it wasn’t unbearable.
What was unbearable, to Trey, was thinking about Erica, especially how upset she’d looked after Principal O’Neil’s visit. He’d like to slug the man, because he knew the kids’ actions during the hurricane were only an excuse. In fact, he thought it likely that O’Neil had already been recommending that the program be terminated earlier that evening, when the board had met.
Whenever he’d made his final decision, O’Neil had the power to destroy the academy program apparently, and he was doing it.
While Trey and Denny worked, going from one small job to the next, they talked. Denny was all caught up in the soon-to-be birth of his second child, wondering how it would go, worrying about whether there was enough money to pay for another baby’s needs. Trey listened and made a few suggestions—very few, because what did he know about fatherhood?—and reassured Denny that he’d be fine, that he’d done it once before, that it was going to be the best experience of his life.
King kept pace beside them. Trey told Denny about how King had helped to find Hannah and Ziggy.
“Have you thought about volunteering him for search-and-rescue work?” Denny asked. “He’d be great at it.”
Trey looked down at King thoughtfully. It didn’t matter to a dog whether his work was volunteer or paid. He just wanted to work.
People called out to Trey and greeted him, thanking him for his help, during the storm as well as today.
“Different rep than what you had in the Heights,” Denny said. “Although, even back there, you were always lending a hand.”
Trey thought about that while they hauled more downed tree branches to the curb. He liked to think that he’d changed in Pleasant Shores, but maybe part of it was more central to his personality. Maybe he’d always had something to offer, even when he’d barely known it himself.
His father thought so, apparently.
Halfway through the morning, Trey’s phone buzzed, and his heart turned over as he pulled it out. He really, really hoped it was Erica, against his better judgment.
But it wasn’t Erica. It was the chief. “Great work with the academy program,” he said. “You’ve really turned it around. Got it some excellent publicity and our department’s name is all over it.”
“What’s that?” Trey was kneeling to examine a piece of siding that had come loose from Mr. James’s house. “What good publicity?”
“Look online. There was a local spotlight on the way your teenagers were helping senior citizens and it went viral, sort of. It’s a feel-good piece.” He paused. “I’m finally seeing the results I was hoping for from your participation in Healing Heroes. It looks like you’re getting your head in the right place.”
“I guess I am,” Trey said, surprised to realize that it was true.
It looked like Healing Heroes wasn’t just a place to wait for disability benefits. If the chief was right, it had actually changed Trey for the better.
“If everything continues good with your physical therapy, seems like you’re ready to rejoin the force.”
The chief’s words hit Trey like a gust of hurricane-level wind. “No desk job?” he managed to ask.
“Nope. I want you out in the community, working.”
Trey barely maintained his end of the short remaining conversation. When he clicked out of the call, both Denny and Mr. James were looking at him with obvious curiosity.
“I’ve got my old job back if I want it,” he said slowly. “In Philly.”
“Dude, that’s great!” Denny pounded him on the back, making Trey wince.
“Easy, man. I’m still healing.”
“I saw you carry those branches. You can’t use that excuse much longer.” He paused. “Seriously, bro, I’m happy for you. I know how much you wanted this.”
He wanted it desperately...didn’t he? Why didn’t he feel the rush of joy he would have expected? “The chief was happy about the way the kids and I were helping folks during the storm. I wonder how they found out.”
Mr. James’s face crinkled into a million-wrinkle smile. “A few of us made some phone calls,” he said, “and Kirk used his influence with the veterans’ organizations to talk about how the kids saved a WWII vet, and the kids put it on those social media sites. We didn’t think it was going to get any press, but all of a sudden, the internet got it lots of attention.”
Denny was scrolling through his phone. “Look, here it is,” he said, and clicked on a video.
It was short, but showed Trey and several of the kids wading through floodwater, carrying lawn ornaments and tree branches, King running alongside them. Both the academy and Trey’s department were named.
He didn’t know who had taken it, but he vaguely remembered seeing several of the kids holding up their phones to photograph things at different points during the storm.
“If it got you your job back, and that’s what you want, I’m glad,” Mr. James said. “
But we sure will miss you around here.”
That got Trey’s attention. He couldn’t really say that the folks on the force in Philly missed him. Well, maybe Denny, and a couple of the dispatchers. But they didn’t miss him much. He was interchangeable with any other big-city cop.
Here, he was known. To the kids, but also to the community at large. Julie and Mary at the bookstore, where he went to buy the thrillers and military history books he loved. Earl Greene, whom he was helping to computerize some forms and apply for a grant to expand programming for youth. The folks on Sunset Lane.
And, of course, Erica.
But he wasn’t staying here. He was going back to the city, back to a job that he loved. Well, liked at least.
King could do search and rescue in Philly. Maybe.
Trey had been dumped by Erica, yeah, and that still stung. But he’d dumped her back, pushed her away. He should feel better about that.
Mr. James went inside, and Trey and Denny took a break and walked with King down to the waterfront. They sat down on a long stone bench, looking out at the water.
“Hard to believe there was that big of a storm yesterday,” Denny said.
“Until you look at that.” Trey waved an arm toward a pile of twisted metal and tree limbs stacked beside the road for trash pickup.
“True.” Denny reached down for a handful of sand and let it fall between his fingers. “So you’re not happy about getting your job back?”
“I’m happy about it,” Trey said automatically.
“You sure?”
Trey looked out at the water, watching the whitecaps play on the waves. “I like it here better than I expected.”
“It’s nice,” Denny said doubtfully. “Kind of slow-paced.”
“I’m liking slow,” Trey said.