Message in the Sand

by Hannah McKinnon

  Wendell cupped her chin and kissed her. “Ginny, please.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  The years between them melted away as they slipped beneath her sheets. Wendell moved artfully, savoring every inch of her skin. With his fingertips, his mouth. He moved over her like water, lapping the edge of the shore, flooding her senses until she cried out. Afterward, they lay in each other’s arms, holding on to one another.

  “I don’t remember it ever feeling like that,” Ginny whispered.

  “Me, neither.” Wendell rolled onto his back, and she rested her chin on his chest. “I hope it was okay. Showing up like that. And… this.” He smiled at her.

  “It was perfect,” she said, pressing closer. “All of it.” Then, “I needed that.”

  Wendell kissed her head. “I needed you.”

  Later, as they sat on her deck with a bottle of wine between them, Ginny tried again. “When you got here, you said you had something to tell me?”

  He turned to her. “You first.”

  * * *

  When morning light flooded her bedroom, Ginny stretched luxuriously. Beside her, Wendell roused. She watched him blink, then turn to her. She smiled sadly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, rolling toward her.

  “I have to go the Wetlands Commission. And ask about the turtles.”

  It would be unethical to keep it to herself. But the truth was, it didn’t just halt the development of White Pines. It also halted a deal that could change the course of her family’s struggling business. Without the boon of that sale, Feldman Agency might not survive.

  Wendell pulled her against him. “Did I ever tell you about those turtles?” he asked.

  Ginny shook her head.

  “My mother used to take Wesley and me hiking at the town meadows when we were really little. To the ponds and the wetlands to search for frogs and turtles.”

  Ginny smiled. “I can’t picture that. From all the photos you’ve shared, she looked so dressed up. So stylish.”

  “She was. But she loved nature.” He paused. “During my dad’s term as first selectman, we stumbled across the red spotted turtles on one of our hikes. She loved that we’d found something thriving that had once been almost extinct. I still remember the uproar it caused my dad during a reelection year.”

  “What happened?”

  “The town wanted to sell the meadows to a developer. My mother got pretty bent out of shape; she wanted my dad to fight it. And he did. The trouble was, he was just one vote on a board of selectmen. And it was while my mother was fighting breast cancer.”

  Ginny sucked in her breath. “So he wanted to fight it for her?”

  “And he did. For a long time.” Wendell shook his head sadly. “That was my mother. Dying of cancer and still trying to take care of everyone else around her. Me, Wesley. The damn turtles.”

  A tear spilled from his eye, and Ginny pressed her fingertip to it. “I wish I’d known her. I wish she was still here for you.”

  Wendell propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her. “That’s the funny thing. Those turtles are back now. It makes you wonder.”

  It was eerie and yet seemed somehow fitting. “I don’t know if the turtles will change everything for White Pines, but reporting what I know is the right thing to do.” Ginny let a long breath out. “Whatever happens next, I guess we’ll all have to find our way through it.”

  “We will. We are already.” He pulled her closer, and Ginny pressed her forehead to his. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel sure about anything in my life again.”

  “But you’re sure about the girls.”

  He nodded. “There are two things I’m sure of in this world. The girls are one.”

  “And the other?”

  Wendell leaned over and kissed her once, then again. “This.”

  Thirty-Six Julia

  After the judge denied her petition for emancipation, Julia felt her insides give in a way they hadn’t done since her parents died. All along she’d been tensed and ready to fight. Her fists clenched, her body coiled. She’d felt a steady course of adrenaline that had served to drown out the grief for some time, both protecting her from its pull and propelling her forward to do what had to be done.

  Gone was the fire in her belly that had driven her through each day. Gone, too, was the hope that somehow she’d remain in Saybrook. She holed up in her room, until Pippa trotted in and begged and fussed and pulled her from the safety of her bed. Julia had sat obediently on the bedroom rug, packing boxes that Candace brought in. There were two kinds: one to bring to London and one to donate. Surrounded by all her things, Julia was too numb to differentiate between the two. What did it matter anymore?

  Chloe cried with her on the phone when she broke the news. But Julia refused to let her come over. Sam was harder. He was beside himself. “Meet me at the lake,” he texted. “There has to be another way.”

  Although she longed to see him, to hug him tight and inhale that intoxicating scent of sunscreen and lake water and Sam-ness that clung to his skin, she couldn’t bear to. From here on, her days at home were numbered. Each time she saw him, she’d think of it as “the visit before the last one” as she counted down to yet another heartbreak. Instead, she turned her phone to Do Not Disturb.

  The judge’s decision that day had sealed their fates. Unable to sleep, Julia stayed up all night listening to the playlist Sam had made her until the sun broke through her curtains. By then, eyes dry as husks, she’d decided it was best to let go of him, too. She pulled a sheaf of pages from her journal and grabbed a pen.

  As the sun rose with fiery color, Julia crept out of the house and down to the lake where the surface glittered like garnet. Barefoot, she walked carefully along the sandy edge to the tree near the egret’s nest. In the sand, she drew an arrow pointing to the weeping willow. On its trunk she tacked her handwritten note. “I think I loved you, Sam Ryder. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. Please respect my wishes now, and let me go.”

  * * *

  Somehow she limped through the rest of the day packing boxes and counting the hours until bedtime, all the while wondering if Sam had found her note. When she did not hear from him by nightfall, she exhaled with relief and then cried herself to sleep.

  Late that night, Julia was awakened by the crack of pebble against glass. At first she wondered if she’d imagined it. There, she heard it again. She sat up, startled.

  Hesitantly, she pulled her curtain aside and peered down into the darkness. She could make out a figure on the lawn, and her heart leaped at the sight of him: Sam.

  Once outside, she barely had time to pull the door closed behind her when he stepped forward. “Jules, how can you just cut me off like that? Without even saying goodbye?”

  She let herself be pulled into his arms, and there was that all-comforting scent of Sam that filled her senses and made her knees go weak. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his middle. He felt strong and sure, and she ached with having missed him all this time. “I’m glad you came. I was wrong.”

  Now, with Sam holding her tight on the front step and the moon overhead, Julia gave in. Together they stood a long time, the rise and fall of the peepers’ song echoing around them until, reluctantly, they parted. “C’mere.” Julia took his hand and pulled him to sit beside her on the front step.

  “I can’t believe you’re going,” Sam said. He shook his head, and in the blue light of the moon, she watched his boyish flop of hair fall forward. He pushed it out of his eyes. God, she would miss him.

  “Neither can I.”

  “But we’ll stay in touch. That won’t change.” Beneath his earnest words was a truth she already knew but did not want to articulate aloud. Everything would change. She’d meet new people there, he’d continue on here. Their lives would be pulled in different directions, and apart was apart, no matter the miles between.

  Sam had no idea how lonely it was not to have a family. “Maybe Pippa and I can
come back for Thanksgiving with your family or the Fitzpatricks.”

  He smiled in the darkness. “That would be great.”

  They sat and talked until their eyelids and limbs grew heavy with sleep and they had almost run out of things to say, and then they sat shoulder to shoulder like they had those first nights on their rock in the field, saying nothing. Suddenly, Sam pointed skyward, and she followed his finger in time to see a silver streak through the sky: a shooting star. Sam turned to her. “Julia Lancaster, you’re my girl.”

  Her eyes filled with hot tears. “I am.”

  They kissed goodbye. It began tenderly. But then became urgent. Julia felt her insides stir until they ached, and Sam pressed against her with what must have been the same desire. Then she pulled away. “This is too hard.”

  Sam placed his hands on either side of her face. Julia felt so small and Sam’s hands so large, as if he could hold all her worries and wants in those soft strong palms. “I got your note down by the lake. The one that said you thought you loved me.”

  “I don’t think it. I know it,” she told him.

  “Well, I loved you first.”

  Julia pressed her lips to his. Then, before her body or her heart gave in, she turned and dashed back up the steps.

  Through the window, she watched Sam go, unable to hold back her tears. It was the summer of goodbyes. To all the people she loved. To the life she’d known. To the person she used to be. No matter what happened, Julia vowed she would not say another goodbye.

  Thirty-Seven Wendell

  After he’d left the courthouse with Roberta, he had wanted nothing more than to go straight to Julia and Pippa with news of what he’d done. But Roberta had cautioned him that the court proceedings might take time, and worse, getting the girls’ hopes up again would not be fair. There was one person, however, whom he had to tell.

  The next morning, he walked up the steps to the front door. Candace opened the door before he could.

  “Good morning,” he said, pulling his cap off his head. “I’m sorry to come by so early, but it couldn’t wait.”

  Candace looked distracted. “I’ve been up for hours as it is; don’t worry.” Then, after regarding him more carefully, “Is everything all right?”

  Wendell swallowed hard. “I wanted to tell you in person. I applied for guardianship of Julia and Pippa.”

  Candace’s mouth fell open. “You did what?”

  “As you know, Julia came to me with this idea a long time ago. And like you, I thought it made no sense.”

  “It doesn’t!” Candace said. She glanced behind her, then stepped outside, lowering her voice. “Have you lost your mind, Mr. Combs?”

  Wendell stared at his hat in his hand. “That may be,” he allowed. “But I feel it’s the right thing to do. The girls and I have become close, and I believe I can help them have the life they want. Here in Saybrook.”

  Candace scoffed. “Let me guess. With my dead brother’s money.”

  Wendell shook his head sharply. “No, it’s not like that at all. I know that money is in a trust for the girls, and I have no interest in a single dime of it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I can provide for them comfortably all on my own, until they’re old enough to inherit. By then they can spend it as they choose.”

  “It takes money to care for them comfortably, and if you think there is any in it for you, let me reiterate, you are mistaken. As for the girls, I question your intentions, and I will fight this, Mr. Combs. I will fight it all the way, and I have the means to do so.”

  “Please,” Wendell said. “It’s not like that. I knew Alan. Better than you, perhaps.”

  He watched this register on her face, but Candace said nothing.

  “These are great kids. They came to me. They asked me to take care of them. And though I wasn’t sure at first, I am now.”

  “You are?” Behind them, Julia stood in the doorway. Her eyes were wide with distrust. “You’re sure?”

  Candace spun around. “Julia, this is a private conversation.”

  “This is about me,” Julia snapped. “I should be part of it.” She faced Wendell. “Do you mean what you said?”

  Wendell wished he could push Candace aside; wished he could apologize to Julia for taking so long to figure it out, and call to Pippa. But this was it. “Every word of it,” he told her.

  Julia’s expression was not one of glee, as he’d hoped. Instead, she burst into tears. “So you do want us?”

  Wendell swallowed hard. “I do. It’s why I’m here now.” He looked at Candace. “Please, can we sit down together? I think this is a solution that would benefit everyone, if you’d just hear me out.”

  Candace held up both hands. “Please leave this property. Immediately.”

  “But—”

  “Now!” Candace barked. “I will send you your last week’s pay. And you will be hearing from my lawyer.” She ushered Julia back inside.

  “Wait, let’s hear what he has to say!” Julia protested.

  But Candace was furious. “Inside, now. We will discuss this with Mr. Banks.” She slammed the door behind them.

  Wendell was left holding his hat on the stoop, his chest pounding. He had expected no less, but still, it came as a shock. He was fired.

  Behind him, the door opened. Julia rushed outside. Before he knew what was happening she threw her arms around him and hugged him.

  “Thank you, Wendell.”

  “Easy now.” He clapped her on the back gently, then stepped back. “Nothing is decided yet. It’s up to the court.”

  “In the meantime, be nice to your aunt, and whatever you do, let’s not tell Pippa yet.”

  Julia squeezed him once more and let go. “Promise.” Then she ducked inside and closed the door.

  Wendell turned around, his gaze resting on the lush rise and fall of White Pines, the open fields dotted with Queen Anne’s lace and cornflower. The shade of the wetlands and the glassy reflection of the pond. The birds were in full song as the sun made its daily climb overhead. Wendell put his hat back on his head and went to his truck. As he steered down the driveway, his heart in his throat, he had no regrets.

  * * *

  It was a full week later until the hearing was called. Each day Wendell worked on his property, trying to stay busy. Trying not to think about the courthouse or the girls. He made calls to old friends in and around town, putting out the word that he was looking for work. When Ginny came by, he tried to be present for her, but he knew it was unconvincing. Luckily, she seemed to understand. “You’re a good man,” she told him. “Trying to provide a family for those girls. Your parents and Wesley would be proud.”

  Wendell had turned away, hiding his grimace. What Ginny didn’t understand was that that was the last thing he wanted to hear. Over the years, Wendell had finally come to accept the loss of his family. What he wasn’t sure of was whether he could stand to lose another.

  The morning of the hearing, Wendell dressed in his best suit and drove to pick up Roberta. They rode in silence the whole way to the courthouse. When he parked the truck, she reached over and placed her hand over his. “Whatever happens, you did all you could. And you are deserving.”

  Wendell could not reply, but he squeezed her hand back. He hoped she knew what he felt.

  When they entered the courtroom, Judge Bartlett looked flushed. It was an unusually warm Indian-summer day, and Wendell, too, was feeling stifled and uncomfortable in his suit. It was déjà vu, all the players back in their places. Julia and Pippa were there, along with Candace and Geoffrey Banks. Jamie Aldeen sat between the girls, only this time, it was Wendell’s hearing. He did not have a lawyer. He had Roberta.

  “Good afternoon,” Judge Bartlett said finally. He rolled his sleeves up and clasped his hands, as he had that first hearing. Wendell found himself mimicking this, willing his hands to stop shaking. A bead of sweat ran down his shoulder blades.

  “This application has been a challenging one,” the judge began. “I have been assig
ned not one but two children, who have lost both parents, and who have only one surviving family member to care for them.

  “Add to that, the older child petitioned the court for emancipation because she did not feel it was in her or her sister’s best interests to reside with their appointed guardian.” He wiped his brow. “Now we have an application for guardianship.” He looked at Wendell, who nodded. “Who is not family, and does not have a family of his own, but who claims he possesses a family bond with said children.”

  As Wendell listened, he had to remind himself that the judge was describing him. And to his ears, told as such, it did not sound like a promising situation. He took a deep breath, pushing the thought away.

  “It has always been the position of the court,” the judge continued, “to keep families together when possible but, ultimately, to rule in favor of what is in the best interests of the child. In this case, children.

  “Traditionally, blood relatives were given preference. It did not matter where they lived, how far the children might be forced to travel to relocate, or, often, how the children themselves felt about the relatives awarded custody of them. Family was family, and if it existed and could be located, that was where the children went.

  “These days, however, the definition of family has changed. The state still recognizes the significance of biological family. That said, we also recognize the preferences and needs of the children. Attempts are therefore made to keep children in what I like to think of as the least restrictive environment. In other words, to keep their lives as normal and familiar as possible. In this case, Mr. Wendell Combs’s application for guardianship, we have a man who resides in the same town as the children. Who can keep them in their same school district and maintain their existing bonds with friends and neighbors and community ties. This is also a man who has known the family for most of the children’s lives, a man whom they clearly feel comfortable and safe with, and a man who has expressed a sound desire to care for them until they are of adult age.” Here, Judge Bartlett addressed Wendell. “Am I correct in those statements, Mr. Combs?”