by Nancy Naigle
Amanda traced her finger through the sand. “For a while it almost killed me when those sweet children would look at me. They have his eyes. I felt guilty every time I turned away from his eyes in them. I know that sounds awful.”
“It sounds honest.”
Why did I tell you all that? I must sound like a horrible mother. “I hope they never felt that.”
“I’m sure they didn’t.”
“Now I treasure the chance to see him in their eyes, but it’s still hard.”
“Here’s the thing I learned: There is a difference between grief and suffering. You see, suffering is solitary, but you share your grief with good people. It’s the way you release the pain and adjust to the loss.”
“But that’s just a big downer. We lived on base. Jack was a Marine. He was supposed to be gone six months, but he didn’t come back. It got so every time I saw one of the other wives coming over, I felt like an anchor. I was weighing down their happiness and stealing their joy. I’m sure I was a constant reminder of the loss they potentially could face too. Who wants to be around that?”
“But see, that’s not how most people view it. Good people want to be of service. Listening and being there for others. Even those ubiquitous casseroles are their way of helping. If we don’t let them do that, they feel powerless. Then nobody wins.”
Amanda groaned. “The casseroles. Oh my gosh.”
“I know, I know. You can only go through so many casseroles. I fed the birds with them. I mean, who thinks one person can eat a nine-by-thirteen casserole in a week? Let alone a half dozen of them!”
“Yes. It’s an obscene amount of food that arrives, and the last thing you want to do is eat.”
Maeve nodded. “They want to help. They want to do their part, and sometimes those casseroles are all people can think of to do.”
“I guess I can see that, but it’s so hard to be constantly reminded.”
“You moving here to pretend Jack hadn’t been the best part of your past—that’s suffering. Suffering is solitary. It’s a barrier to processing your loss. You’ve lost something, Amanda.” Maeve pulled her fists to her heart. “I’ve experienced how deep and heavy that can feel.”
A tear slipped down Amanda’s cheek. “I have to be strong. For the kids.”
“Yes, you do. No question about that.” Maeve looked out over the water. “I can’t imagine how that must be. All I had was me, and that was hard.”
“I know the five stages of grief and that it ends with acceptance. I accept Jack’s not coming back, but I still hurt so much.”
“I know you do, but you don’t have to do it alone. Talk to someone. A good person won’t let you suffer.” She placed her hand on Amanda’s. “Can we talk about this? Can I be your person?”
“My good person?”
“I’m an excellent listener. I won’t ask or push. Just let me be there for you as you’re ready. Don’t make the mistakes I made. I wasted so many years buried in suffering.”
“Thank you so much.” The tears streamed down her cheeks now. She blotted them with her free hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Nope. Don’t apologize. Tears are healing. There’s scientific proof that emotional tears reduce pain. Maybe that’s why the ocean is so good for us—all that salt water. Let those salty tears fall, my dear.”
Amanda laughed, but the tears didn’t curtail.
Maeve leaned forward and wrapped her long arms around her. “You’re going to be okay. Better than okay. Just keep things simple. You’ll see. Each day will be better than the last.”
A weight lifted ever so slightly from Amanda, anxiety and sorrow falling away into Maeve’s arms.
A long moment went by.
“You sit right here and you cry as long as you need to. Get it out. Be thankful.” Maeve’s hand rubbed along Amanda’s back. “Smile. Laugh. Grit your teeth and say bad words if that’s what it takes. I’m going to go down and spend some time with Hailey and Jesse.” She leaned back, looking into Amanda’s face. “You okay?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to walk down there with them. Don’t worry. Don’t even think about us or look our way. You be here, with your thoughts. With Jack. Whatever it takes. Take all the time you need. Deal?”
“You don’t have to—”
“This is the part where you have to let me help you grieve. Let me have a purpose. I have absolutely nothing else more important to do. Please?”
“Yes. Deal.”
Amanda looked on as Maeve made it to where the kids were playing. They jumped around as Maeve started talking. Her hands moved in the air, and it looked like the children were absolutely captivated by her.
A loud sob broke from Amanda’s chest as she let it go.
12
Amanda lay on the beach with her eyes closed. She could hear Hailey’s playful shrieks in the distance. Jack, did you send Maeve? She licked her lips and sniffed back the tears. She’s an angel, right? I mean, who walks the beach like that and can make people smile with a shell?
But Jack didn’t answer.
She scooted out from under the umbrella. Puffy clouds moved across the sky, giving way to spots of blue. She and Jack used to watch the changing clouds and identify shapes in them. Sort of like an inkblot test. They’d lie in the bed of his pickup doing that for hours. Keeping score, of course.
A tear slid down her neck. She hated for the kids to see her cry. They didn’t deserve the burden of her sorrow. She pulled one of the frozen juice pouches out of her bag, wrapped it in her beach towel, and placed it over her puffy eyes, gathering herself.
Thank you for Maeve.
The kids’ giggles rose above the crashing waves. How long had it been since she’d had even just a few minutes to not worry about them? She sat up and took a sip of water, then lifted her phone to see how bad her eyes looked. Thank goodness her image in the selfie frame didn’t look too bad. She lightly tapped at the puffiness around her eyes. Totally passable once she put on her sunglasses.
But she did feel better. Thankful. Grateful. Ready to tackle the rest of the day.
She got up and brushed the sand from her legs, then walked down to meet up with Maeve and the kids.
They were having quite the little party down there. They hadn’t even noticed her approach.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
Hailey jumped in front of the project, legs spread and arms wide. “Don’t look yet!”
“It’s a secret surprise!” Jesse ran over and grabbed Amanda’s hand, tugging her back toward the sheet. “Not yet, Mommy.”
“We’ll see you in five minutes.” Maeve waved and gave Amanda a thumbs-up.
Amanda cross-stepped, backing away slowly. “I’ll wait up there. Come and get me when you’re ready.”
“No peeking,” Hailey said sternly.
“No problem.” Amanda made it to the sheet and sat down. Laughter came out of nowhere. Me time. When was the last time she really had me time? Thank you, Maeve. A hundred thank-yous. She put her hands on her legs and closed her eyes, determined to sit there with her mind empty of any thoughts until the kids came to get her.
The weight of her body shifted, her center of gravity lowering as the stress release allowed her to really relax. She did find herself peeking a couple of times, curious what they were up to. But it felt good to be free of any responsibility, even for a short time.
Oh yeah. I could definitely get used to this.
“We’re ready, Mommy.” Jesse ran up to her. “Come on. You have to see.”
She scrambled to her feet and jogged alongside him to where Hailey and Maeve stood.
“Sorry we took so long,” Maeve said with a wink.
“Well, the best projects take time. No problem.”
“Ready?” Hailey looked at Maeve and then they both ste
pped aside.
A castle rose from the sand. A series of tall slim buildings, all different heights and bridges connecting them. It was an entire city. Indeed, they had been busy.
“How did you do that so fast?” Maybe she’d been up there longer than she realized.
“Maeve taught us how to make drip castles.” Hailey stuck her foot out with her toe pointed and arms wide. “It’s so amazing.”
“It sure is.”
“We dug a long trench from the water to a pond in the middle of our city,” Hailey explained.
“The waves filled it up instead of destroying it,” Amanda said. “I bet I can guess who was in charge of digging it.” Jesse was a master at it. Fast and deep. Just his style.
Jesse jumped in the air. “Me!”
“Look how tall your castle is. It must be five stories high. Like an apartment building.”
“Princesses don’t live in apartments, Mom.”
“Of course not. What was I thinking?”
“Look,” Hailey said to her. “Come on, Jesse. Let’s show her how we did it. Just like Maeve taught us.” They both knelt and took a scoop of watery sand in their hands and began releasing it just a little at a time. Drip by drip, the sand piled upon itself.
“That’s really pretty impressive.” Amanda looked over at Maeve. “Very cool.”
“Best part is you can leave all those buckets and boxes behind and still be able to make a castle. Right, Hailey? It’s called keeping it simple.”
“Yes ma’am.” Hailey ran around to the backside of the castle, where there was a drip-sand fence. “Know what’s back here?”
“Horses?”
“No! A doghouse for Denali.”
“Of course. You have thought of everything.”
“Maeve helped.”
“Thanks, but you two really did all the work. I just supervised.”
Amanda turned to Maeve. “Thank you. For this. They are having a blast. And for the time. Oh my gosh, this is better than a day at a spa. And thank you for being a friend. I’m sorry I kind of dumped on you. Forgive me?”
“Don’t be silly. You did no such thing. I’m so delighted. This has been the best day I’ve had in a very long time.”
Hailey stepped between them. “Does that mean we can play tomorrow too?”
“I’m always available to supervise and give a little castle-building advice.”
“And shells,” Hailey added. “You know everything about shells.”
“So it would seem.” Maeve pushed her hat back on her head. “Don’t you love the beach after a couple good rainy days?” She inhaled deeply. “You can really smell the salt in the air once the pollution gets blown to bits.”
“What’s pollution?” Hailey’s nose wrinkled.
“Bad stuff in the air, like smoke and car exhaust.” Amanda hadn’t noticed until Maeve had mentioned it, though. “Yes, you’re right. We also appreciate how much easier it was to get over that dune today. Sometimes that deep sand is a real killer.”
“Especially on the walk back,” Maeve said. “Am I right?”
“You are.” Hailey inched closer to Maeve.
The tide was coming in. The water lapped at their legs above their ankles now. “When I was a little girl,” Maeve said, “it was such a long walk to the beach. The dunes were taller back then, and our house was so far away from the beach that some days I thought I would never make it back. Over the years, the tides have taken a toll on the coastline. I don’t know if that’s how nature means it to be or it’s some by-product of our human impact on things. I like to believe the ocean realized I was getting older and too tired for that hike and so it met me halfway.”
“So when we’re old, we won’t have to walk this far either?” Hailey asked.
“Probably not.”
“That’s very, very good.” Hailey threw her hands in the air. “I’m going to like that very much.”
“Me too.” Jesse jumped up and then landed in his favorite superhero stance.
“I’m going to walk on down the beach.” Maeve picked up her shell bag and hung it over her shoulder. “I hope I’ll see you here tomorrow.”
“We’d like that,” Amanda said. “I usually pack a lunch. Will you join us?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Noon?”
“I’ll see you all right here tomorrow. I may even catch you on my way back if you haven’t already gone home for the day.”
Hailey waved as Maeve turned to walk on. “Don’t fall in our pond when you come back,” she yelled through cupped hands.
“I’ll keep a lookout.” Maeve swished her feet in the water as she walked away.
It had been a good day. Amanda looked at Hailey and Jesse, who’d returned to sitting in the water, dripping sand into tall piles. Connecting one to the next. It was like Jesse’s first Christmas when all he wanted to do was sit in the box that Hailey’s Barbie Dreamhouse had come in and make truck noises rather than play with all the toys they’d so carefully picked out for him.
Keeping it simple. That’s going to be our new motto.
* * *
—
The next morning, Amanda busied herself in the kitchen. She looked forward to Maeve joining them for lunch on the beach. It was nice to have someone to chat with who knew more than she did. Not just about the area but about life.
On the kitchen table, she’d set out a platter with grapes, cheese cubes, strawberry slices, and melon balls for the kids to make their favorite caterpillar kabobs for lunch. They loved assembling them, and she thought Maeve might get a kick out of them. She chopped veggies and mixed them with cream cheese to spread on tortillas, then rolled the tortillas up and sliced them into pinwheels. They looked pretty sitting in the container. Then she made a couple of PB&J sandwiches and cut them into fourths. It would be a nice little assortment.
She stopped and looked at everything on the table. Clearly, simple was not in her nature, but the kids loved her fun recipes. She’d have to find other places to simplify.
Hailey climbed into a chair at the kitchen table and ran her hand through her hair. “Are we making caterpillars?”
“You noticed.”
“We love eating caterpillars!” Jesse climbed into the seat next to Hailey and rose up on his knees. Slowly, he extended a hand, his eyes wide, like he was going to sneak a strawberry.
She pretended not to notice, then spun around and scared him. “Are you stealing caterpillar faces?”
He sat back on his heels in a fit of giggles. “Maybe.”
“There’s plenty. You can have one, but don’t ruin your appetite. We’re going to Tug’s Diner for breakfast.”
Hailey and Jesse locked eyes, then squealed. “Pancakes!” No matter where they went out to eat breakfast, these two were a sure bet for pancakes. It didn’t matter that they’d had some at home yesterday.
They made short work of the caterpillar-kabob project, lining each loaded skewer in a plastic container. “We have a whole army of caterpillars. Think we have enough to share with Miss Maeve?”
Jesse leaned over as if he were counting, but he couldn’t count. Finally, he nodded. “Yes. She doesn’t look like she eats much.”
That struck Amanda as funny. Maeve wasn’t skinny, but she was tall and lean. She was surprised Jesse had even noticed.
“Okay, get those teeth brushed and put some clothes on so we can go eat. I’m hungry.”
They jumped up and were down the hall without a moment’s delay.
Amanda changed into a yellow sundress and slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops, then herded the kids out the door.
They piled into the car and pulled out of her driveway. At the stop sign, she waited for the traffic to clear, then turned right. It wasn’t that far to Tug’s Diner, but it made her nervous to have Jess
e and Hailey on the sidewalk so close to the traffic on this road that moved faster than the posted limit most of the time.
Parking at Tug’s was tight. She’d heard it was a popular hot spot with the locals. Someone pulled out of a spot, and she whipped in. Lucky break.
The walkway to the diner looked more like the ramp to a pirate’s ship the way the thick ropes hung between pylons along the deck boards. The smell of bacon and sausage wafting through the air made her think it might be worth a playful sword fight to get inside.
A waitress greeted them with menus as they walked in. “There’s a table open right over there, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” They went over and sat down.
All of a sudden Hailey belted out, “Mom, look! They have shells like the one you found.”
“Shh. Indoor voice, Hailey.” But she followed her daughter’s pointed finger, and sure enough there were several shadow boxes holding all different types of shells containing messages.
She studied the box hanging over their table. The shell in it wasn’t big like the one Hailey had found. It was flat and about the size of a peanut butter jar lid that looked sort of like a scallop shell. The frame was deep and the shell took up half of it. On the other half, a handwritten note was mounted with those paper corners used in photo albums. There was no date on it, but it had the look of having been there a long time.
Dear Tug,
Your restaurant has been our favorite for the ten years we’ve been coming to Whelk’s Island. My wife and I can’t make a trip to that town without a night there. We’d always thought the shells decorating the walls were a clever marketing ploy. We were shocked when we found a shell containing a message in front of our beach house on our last trip. We decided it should be kept in the restaurant, where other people could enjoy it too. Enclosed please find the shell, and a check to cover the framing.
Keep up the good eats.
Stan and Margie Fuller
Charlotte, NC
Inside the scallop shell was the quote: