by Nancy Naigle
Jesse ran to Hailey’s side. “Pretty.”
It was large and perfect. “Let me see,” Amanda said.
Hailey dusted the sand from the shell and handed it to her. “Look! There’s something written inside it.”
They walked this path every day. Amanda was surprised they hadn’t seen it before. Then again, they had never been looking for shells until now. The wind must have blown enough to uncover this one from the seagrass where it sat.
“What’s it say?” her daughter asked.
Amanda read the words to herself and then aloud: “All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.—Havelock Ellis”
“Who is Have Lots?” A thoughtful look crossed Hailey’s face. “He must be really lucky.”
“Havelock Ellis. That’s the person who first said that.”
“Did he write it in our shell?” Hailey always had to have all the answers.
“No, I don’t think so.” The quote hung in her mind. Living lies? No, it wasn’t about living lies; it was about how the art of living was achieved. It was such a simple quote, but it grabbed her, provoking her. How was someone supposed to recognize what to let go of and what to hold on to?
She thought of Jack’s shirt still hanging on the back of her dressing-table chair as if he might grab it and put it on tomorrow. Some nights she still slipped it on before she climbed into bed. Certainly, after two years, any scent of him had to be long gone, but she swore she could smell him when she wore it. I couldn’t. Letting go of that meant letting go of Jack.
She tipped the shell up, reading it again.
Why am I taking this so personally? It’s a random find.
“Can we keep it, Mom?” Hailey asked.
“We sure can.” The quote rolled in her mind.
Trekking those last thirty feet over the dune was like crossing the finishing line of a marathon. The kids were dragging, but she felt the world brighten more every time she saw their house waiting for them. She opened the gate, and Denali ran through, followed by Jesse and then Hailey. More than a house. The latch clicked behind them. Home sweet home.
“Where should we put our keeper shells?” Amanda asked.
“Can we have them in our rooms tonight?” Hope hung in the air. “For a while,” Hailey begged. “Just until we get too many?”
It was hard to say no to them. “Yes. If you want to. That seems fair.” She had no intention of leaving hers outside either.
Jesse placed his on the corner of the flower box that Amanda had hung over the hose bib. “Mine.”
As they ran ahead to go inside, she took the purple shell from her pocket. Help me stay focused on the beauty around us. She placed it next to Jesse’s treasure.
She prayed Hailey and Jesse were adjusting to life as well as it seemed despite her own daily inner battle. She carried the big shell inside, reading the quote once more.
5
From Paul’s office at Paws Town Square, he had nearly a panoramic view overlooking the dog park, pond, and myriad walking trails. Because the facility was meant to also serve as a rehabilitation-and-training center, each of the hiking paths had multiple rest stops, including water fountains and benches. The outside trails had them, too, but with the humidity, not many people cared to use them this time of year.
His leather chair screeched against the ceramic tile floor as he leaned his arms forward on his desk. Memories from his Marine career filled a shelf on the bookcase otherwise piled with nonfiction, reference books, and binders of information on projects completed and pending. A few of his personal belongings were on that shelf. He walked over and picked up the picture of him, dressed in fatigues, with his partner Gunner, one of the best bomb-sniffing dogs the Marines had. He located more IEDs than any other dog and had the medals to prove it. The hardest part of leaving the Marines had been leaving Gunner behind, but the powers that be weren’t ready to let him retire at that time.
Paul’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. There was a time when he’d thought he’d be an active-duty Marine until his hands began to weather with age and they forced him to retire. But now there were no more combat boots and no daily salutes. The expectations hadn’t changed that much, though. He still put his needs and wants second to his new mission: to help his fellow service members, including the military working dogs. For that, there was honor.
He’d danced with death, been taken prisoner, protected his country, and helped shape another round of new recruits along the way. He made friends and lost the best of them. Those losses had forced him to make a change. Who would’ve thought that at the lowest point in his life, he would come up with the greatest opportunity of all?
A double knock came from his open door. His assistant poked her head inside. “Hey, Paul. I have those packages ready for you. Do you want me to run them down to the post office?”
“No, thank you. I can take care of it. I have a couple other errands to run today.” He walked over to get the packages. “Thanks.”
“Don’t forget that conference call in an hour.”
“I’ll be back in plenty of time,” he assured her.
Her lips pursed as she pointed out the window toward the view of the park below. “When are you going to slow down long enough to find yourself a nice gal to share all this with?”
“Me? Never gonna happen,” Paul said, then winced. He hadn’t meant it to come out so abrupt, which left him feeling the need to explain. “There’s not a woman out there who could put up with the likes of me.” He took in a breath. “I met my one true love. It just wasn’t meant to be, and that’s that. Mission impossible.”
“Sorry, boss. I won’t press, but for the record, I don’t believe that.”
She was plucky—he had to give her that. “Thank you, but I’ve found my life’s calling now. I’m married to my work. She might not be all that pretty, but she’s all I need.”
“You need to look out that window again. She’s pretty. Real pretty. High maintenance as heck, but beautiful. You made sure of that.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” Paul laughed. He could’ve gotten away with a lot less and served his customers just as well, but the ambiance got people in the door, and the service kept them happy.
“Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.” She walked out of the room, and Paul moved over to the window. His assistant was right. It was beautiful. The greenery and flowering trees and plants below soothed his soul. What more could I need?
A Lynyrd Skynyrd song played in his mind.
That’s what I get for asking questions. “I always need Skynyrd.”
He dug the keys from his pocket and headed downstairs.
It wasn’t even four miles to the post office. On a cooler day he could’ve walked or jogged, but with less than an hour to spare, he took the truck. He got behind the wheel and hit redial on his phone for Tug’s Diner as he backed out. “Can I get two hot dogs all the way for Paws Town Square? I’ll be by to get them in about twenty minutes.”
Those hot dogs were his weakness. He ate them for lunch at least twice a week, something he used to avoid completely, but they were quick, cheap, and easy, and Tug made homemade chili and toasted the buns. He could already taste them.
The Whelk’s Island post office was the tiniest one he’d ever seen. The original for this town, it was a historic landmark. According to the locals, the compact building had once sat right in the middle of a sandy field, but the town had eventually grown up around it.
The teeny structure had withstood years of hurricanes, and when the city planner recommended relocating it to an updated building, the townspeople wouldn’t stand for it. Instead, they compromised and allowed an external makeover. The worn and rotting pillars had been replaced with new composite material that would never need painting, and where there used to be lapboard was all vinyl siding in soft yello
w with glossy white trim. It looked like a kid’s playhouse to him.
He parked his truck at the curb and carried the packages inside. The interior boasted the original wooden counter, and vintage brass twin-letter-combination post-office-box units lined the walls.
“Hi there!” Maeve walked toward him with a stack of mail in her hands.
“Hello, Maeve. We meet again.”
“And so soon,” she responded. “How are you?”
“Doing great. Just mailing some packages.” Paul jostled the boxes in his arms.
Her eyebrows darted up. “You can’t tell me you don’t have someone who could do that for you.”
“I do, but I like to get out. With the tourist season in full swing, I haven’t been jogging on the beach like I usually do. I get a little stir-crazy, but it’s too crowded out there for me.”
“Oh gosh, I wouldn’t go to that end of the beach if you paid me. You should park at my place and access the beach from my house. I’m right up the street.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” She wrote down the address for him. “I walk from there to Tug’s Diner and back almost every morning. I’m the big blue stilt house in the curve. I don’t even have a car, so there’s always room to park.”
He thought for a moment. “I know which house you mean. That’s a hike. You walk that every day?”
“I do.”
“Good for you. My buddies and I used to surf that pier.”
Her mouth sprang into a smile. “Seriously, make yourself at home. It’s a great stretch of beach to run. Or walk, in my case. I’d love it if you would.”
“I’m going to take you up on that sometime,” Paul said. “I’ve been using the trails at Paws Town Square, and they’re nice—don’t get me wrong—but there’s really nothing like the ocean air and the sound of the waves crashing at your feet to get your head in the right place.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears. We both know that’s true.” She started out the door, then paused. “Is that your big blue truck?”
“It is.”
“Looks like you.” She waved a hand over her head. “See you around the beach soon, I hope.”
He watched her walk out, then took his packages to the counter, where a postal worker wearing a name tag—Ruthie—stood.
“I see you’ve met our resident beachcomber,” she said.
“Maeve? She’s great.”
“Yes. Everyone loves Maeve. She used to help decorate this place on all the holidays. She helped the Master Gardeners club with the planting, too, only she never was good with plants, so she’d just drop shells alongside all the flowers. Kind of her thing. She loves seashells.”
“Who doesn’t? Nice lady too. She was a real supporter with the city when I was trying to get all my plans approved.”
“She’s one you want to have on your side. She’s a pistol, that one. Rain or shine, she’s out and about. Walks everywhere. It could be raining buckets or a hundred and five in the shade and she’ll show up.”
“Doesn’t really surprise me.”
“Nothing she does surprises me.” Ruthie chuckled as she weighed and labeled Paul’s packages. “That all for you today? No stamps?”
“No, thank you. That’ll do it.” Paul took his receipt, then walked out to his truck. As he drove down the road, he saw Maeve walking. He slowed and pulled over to the curb. “Need a ride? It’s awfully hot out today.”
Maeve shook her head emphatically. “I’m fine. I like it this way.”
Sixty-six-degree air blew from the AC across his face as he rolled up the window. If Momma were alive, she’d beat him with her flip-flop for not insisting Maeve accept the ride, but he didn’t think Maeve would take too kindly to that.
In his rearview mirror, he could see her still plugging along.
The blue-and-white sign for Tug’s Diner came into view. He whipped into a spot along the curb in front and got out, then dropped the tailgate and pulled a hand truck to the ground. He stacked four boxes on it and rolled them into the diner through the front door. Thankfully, they didn’t have too big a crowd right now.
Tug must’ve seen him drive up. “Is that The Wife’s food you ordered for me?”
“And treats too. They weren’t on back order after all.”
“You didn’t have to deliver that stuff,” Tug said. “I would’ve picked it up.”
“No need. Gave me a reason to get a couple of those awesome hot dogs you make.”
“You don’t need a reason for that.”
Paul rubbed his belly. “Yeah, I have to be mindful, else I’ll look like I have a load of laundry on my washboard stomach.”
“I think you’re a few hot dogs away from that, son.” Tug waved him toward the back exit, which led to a gazebo where a huge cage hosted his African gray parrot. “Mind wheeling that back here? I’ve got storage under her cage.”
Paul pushed the handcart out the back door.
The Wife sang out a greeting: “Oh, Pauly. Hello, Pauly.” She stretched out her charcoal-gray wings to their full span of eighteen inches, then settled down and cocked her head with a click.
“I taught her that,” Paul said to Tug. “The last time I was here.”
“With a vocabulary of over four hundred words, she could say whatever she wants, but she learns what she wants to learn. Just like a woman.” Tug pulled out a huge wad of cash from his front pocket and started peeling back twenties. “I appreciate you ordering those supplies for me. Saved me a ton of money.”
“No problem. I’m glad you thought to ask.”
“Well, I owe you.”
“No, you don’t. Just keep on making those delicious meals so I don’t go hungry.”
“You got it.” Tug led them back inside, where he grabbed one of the to-go bags lined up by the register. “Here you go. On the house today.”
“Thanks, Tug. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“I don’t think you’ve missed a fish night since you came to town.”
“Doing my best to set a record. Plus, your counter has the best view of the beach in this town.” It was true. Unlike most diner counters, which faced the grill or wall, the one at Tug’s Diner was in front of a wide span of windows that looked out over the deck to the water. Paul had mulled over plenty of problems here while trying to open Paws Town Square. There was a peace in this place that he’d never experienced anywhere else.
He loved this town and every single person in it. He wished he could stay and work from here long term, but duty called and he was best boots on the ground, where the projects were.
He jumped into his truck and did a U-turn to head back to work. Darn if he didn’t pass Maeve still walking up the road. “You go, girl.” He waved, unsure if she’d even notice him, but she threw her arm up in the air in an enthusiastic reply.
He hoped she would take him up on the offer of a tour.
Back at Paws Town Square, he swung into his parking spot, then jogged up the stairs.
“You’re back.” His assistant glanced at her computer. “And with fifteen minutes to spare. You are good.”
“What can I say? I love a challenge.” He pulled up the reports he needed for the conference call, then settled behind his desk to devour those hot dogs.
6
That night, Amanda stood in the living room against the front doorjamb. Her hand grazed the screen, sending a resting moth off in flight. The leaves on the trees swished, although she couldn’t feel even the teensiest breeze. A lightning bug twinkled right in front of her, then more of them. They lit sporadically, like lazy Christmas lights in gold.
Even though the dunes rose as high as her house, she could hear the muffled sound of the waves when she stood silent. It soothed her, and for a moment it was as if she were completely alone in this world, in a good way. Safe and a
t peace. She let her eyes close, enjoying the moment.
These were precious days. At the end of the summer, she’d go to work again. A new schedule would replace all this relaxed fun. Responsibilities would nip away at the time she had to spend with Hailey and Jesse. At least by teaching at her daughter’s school, she might get to see her during the day, but it would be harder knowing Jesse was under someone else’s care. He wouldn’t have the same benefit of being with her full time like Hailey had at his age.
She hated to shortchange Jesse. A second time. First losing Jack, and now losing her time.
Those thoughts made her heart hammer. Don’t have a heart attack. You’re all they’ve got. The words were so clear they could have been said from right behind her, but they weren’t a stranger’s voice. Nope. Not Mom’s, like it used to be when she was younger. No, these days it was Jack who spoke to her. It had scared her at first. Was she going crazy? Or worse, was Jack so worried she couldn’t make it on her own that he couldn’t rest? That wasn’t Jack’s style. He trusted her. No. He was walking those streets of gold, doing good just like he had here. He’d probably signed right up to be her guardian angel. Thank you, Jack. I wouldn’t trade the time we had together for anything.
This life here on earth was for her to figure out now without him, and she’d never thought she’d have to do that. But she would, no matter what it took.
No one—not her mother or father, not even Granny Lee, who she’d loved to pieces—had ever made her feel like Jack did.
That wasn’t true. God did, but He’d taken Jack. That was a whole other struggle.
She shook her head, trying to flick away those hurtful feelings. She refused to ask why. She knew it wasn’t personal, but it was hard to understand how that could have been the plan all along.
It seemed like it had been forever since Jack had held her in his arms, but the pain of him being gone was as fresh as the dew on the grass outside every morning.
Another season had passed. Now with summer racing by, a new job and Hailey in school this fall, it would be winter again. Dread filled her as she considered the next holiday without Jack. Those thoughts made her want to run out the door into the darkness.