Chapter Nineteen
To Do:
Give up
In spite of the fireworks up and down the beach, the Fourth of July had been lackluster for Jenna. She’d sat on Aunt Edie’s back porch along with her aunt, Pete and Seth and stared unseeing at the enormous bursts of color splashing against a black sky. Aunt Edie had made Italian sodas and baked brownies. Jenna had passed on the brownies and only taken a couple of sips of her drink.
“She’ll miss you and come back,” Aunt Edie had predicted.
“I don’t know. She’s wanted to be with her father all along.” And, after the Fourth, that was where she was going. Damien’s parents were making room for her in the spare bedroom. It would be shopping trips with the rich grandma by day and horror movies at night with Damien and Aurora the princess. “He’s perfect, you know,” Jenna had added bitterly.
“Perfect until he isn’t,” Seth had said. “If he’s anything like you say he is, her eyes are going to get opened pretty quick.”
That made Jenna sad, too. She hated the idea of her daughter having to be disappointed in her father.
“It will all work out,” Aunt Edie had assured her.
Yes, one way or another. It was that “another” Jenna was worried about.
Her worries increased when she got the letter from Damien’s lawyer on Friday. As there has been a change in your circumstances, it began, and then went downhill from there.
She called her lawyer. “Well, this could be a problem,” he said, “because of the revocable settlement.”
The cursed revocable settlement! That had been meant to work in her favor. Now it was screwing her over. “What do you suggest I do?”
“You could go to court and fight him. Of course, you’ll spend some money doing that,” the lawyer cautioned. “I suggest you pay him to make him go away. We can negotiate something with the stipulation that he can’t increase the maintenance. No coming back to the well again.”
“Okay, make a deal,” she said, and ended the call with a frown.
“Is he going to take all your money?” Aunt Edie asked, making Jenna almost drop her phone.
She’d been sitting on the back porch, sure her aunt wouldn’t hear, but there Aunt Edie stood in the doorway, her brow furrowed.
“Have you been eavesdropping?” Jenna teased. That would teach her not to go far away from the house for important calls. She’d been so caught up in her anger she’d never even heard the door open. She managed a smile. See? Everything’s fine.
Aunt Edie didn’t smile. Who do you think you’re kidding?
By the time their friends arrived for the usual Friday night gathering neither of them was in a party mood. In fact, Aunt Edie didn’t look well.
Their discouragement didn’t go unnoticed. “Has something bad happened?” Nora asked.
“You could say that,” Jenna replied, and shared the latest development. She tried to gloss over the dire implications, but her aunt wasn’t stupid. Watching the old woman’s lower lip tremble made Jenna want to cry.
“It’s sick and wrong,” Courtney said. “What are you going to do?”
Jenna knew what she’d like to do. Send the poor excuse for a man that was her ex a bomb in the mail. “I’m going to settle before he hauls me into court.”
“Men are such bums,” Courtney said in disgust.
“Not all men,” Nora corrected her.
No, only the ones in Jenna’s life.
“Between Damien and Uncle Sam I’m not going to end up with enough money to put the roof on the Driftwood,” she confided to Tyrella when her aunt wasn’t listening.
“Don’t you give up. We’ll go back to praying.”
Jenna was too discouraged to pray and said as much.
“That’s why you’ve got friends,” Tyrella said.
“And which one of you has a big pile of money sitting around with no place to go?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll think of something,” Tyrella said, and hugged her.
Short of robbing the bank, Jenna didn’t see any way of getting that money.
After the women went home and Aunt Edie went to bed, she made her way to the beach with some newspaper, matches and kindling. With the aid of the moon she found a couple of pieces of dry wood and made herself a fire. Who knew how much longer she’d be able to stay, how many more beach fires she could enjoy?
“I thought this fire belonged to you,” said the familiar deep voice. Seth sat down on the log next to her.
“I needed a beach fire.” Actually, she needed a fairy godmother.
“There’s something about the beach,” he said. “You come here and your troubles can’t find you.”
“Yeah, right. Mine found me just fine.”
“Only temporarily. The tide can wash them away.”
“That was very poetic,” she complimented him.
“Yeah, that’s me. Poetic.” He draped an arm around her. “What’s wrong now? Your kid’s safe, you’re rolling in dough. How come you’re not smiling?”
“Because my ex found out I was rolling in dough. There won’t be enough left to roll in by the time he’s done.”
“That sucks,” said Seth, the master of understatement.
“I needed that money. Oh, Seth, what am I going to do?”
“I wish I had a solution for you.”
“Nothing’s turned out the way I expected. I thought we’d all be so happy here. I thought I could help Aunt Edie. Instead, we did all this work for nothing and I can’t finish the renovations. Nobody will stay at the Driftwood and we’ll lose the place and that will break Aunt Edie’s heart. And my daughter...” Didn’t want to be with her. Jenna’s throat constricted and she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Seth tightened his hold on her and pulled her against him. “I’m sorry, Jenna. I’m really, really sorry. I wish I could make it all better for you. I wish life was like the movies.”
Now she was sobbing, and he kissed the top of her head and continued to murmur that it would all be okay. But it wouldn’t. The fire finally died and she stopped crying. He put out the embers, took her hand and led her back through the dunes to the house, neither one speaking.
Finally, at the stairs to the back porch, he turned her to him and kissed her. It melted her, not with passion but with tenderness. Yes, if only they’d met years ago, before Damien, before Seth’s troubles. He’d have become an English teacher and they’d have come to the beach every summer. He’d have helped Uncle Ralph keep the place up and they’d have both been there for Aunt Edie and there’d have been no need for huge chunks of money to repair the damage done by the sands of time. If only you could go back.
But you couldn’t. You couldn’t even hang on to the present. That quickly moved into the past, slipping away. She clung to Seth in an effort to hold the moment, but at last he broke them apart.
He held her firmly by the arms. “You’re a brave woman, Jenna. Remember that. No matter what happens, remember that.”
No, she wasn’t brave. She bit her lip and nodded and went into the house. She wanted to climb into bed and pull the covers over her head just like her daughter would.
Her daughter.
Jenna cried herself to sleep.
It was a troubled sleep, with her on the beach, trying to run in the sand and getting very little traction. People kept rushing past her—Damien, holding hands with Aurora and waving and laughing, her daughter chasing after them.
“Wait, Sabrina!” she called. “Don’t leave me.”
But Sabrina kept running, her hair, once again reddish gold, flying in the wind.
And there went Aunt Edie. She was a wraith, floating on the wind, crying. Her cries turned into howling and the wind picked up and Jenna whimpered, “I’m sorry, Aunt Edie. I’m sorry.”
She was crying when she woke. The sun was streaming in her window and the dolls on the window seat were smiling at her, mocking her. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blew her nose, picked up her cell phone and checked the time. Nine a.m.
Nine in the morning and she didn’t smell breakfast. That wasn’t normal. She went downstairs and found the kitchen empty. No Aunt Edie making bacon or sitting at the table sipping coffee.
Filled with dread, Jenna ran back up the stairs to her aunt’s room. She knocked on the door, then opened it and stepped inside. Aunt Edie was still in bed. Oh, dear God.
Jenna ran to the bed. “Aunt Edie!”
Her aunt opened an eye and looked at her. “What time is it?” Her voice was so weak.
“It’s nine.”
Aunt Edie sighed and the eye shut again. “I’m tired, Jenna.”
Oh, no. Oh, no. Aunt Edie was never tired.
“Are you okay?” What were the symptoms for a heart attack again? Sweating, headache, confusion. No sweat on her aunt’s forehead. “What day is it?”
“It’s Saturday, dear. Let’s sleep in.”
Okay, no confusion. Still. “But you never sleep in.”
“I know. I just don’t want to get up.”
Her aunt was, indeed, sick. Sick at heart.
“You stay in bed and rest,” Jenna said. “I’ll make you some tea and toast.”
Aunt Edie said nothing, just lay there.
Jenna tried not to sob as she went downstairs to the kitchen. Her poor aunt. She’d looked to Jenna to rescue her and this was what she’d gotten.
Pete banged on the kitchen door and Jenna let him in.
“You’re not dressed,” he said accusingly, taking in her sleep T-shirt.
“We slept late.”
“Where’s Edie?”
“She’s in bed.”
Pete’s cranky expression turned to concern. “In bed? Is she all right?” His voice was threaded with panic.
“She doesn’t feel well.”
“Why haven’t you called the doctor?” he demanded, marching to the kitchen phone. “Edie’s never in bed at this hour of the morning. You should have known something was wrong.”
She’d been in bed herself, so how could she have known? She kept the retort to herself. Pete was worried. She got that.
“Lizzy,” he growled into the phone. “Get ahold of Doc and tell him to come over to Edie’s place. Something’s wrong... I know it’s his day off. So what? Tell him to get out of his damned golf cart and get over here right away.” He hung up and glared at Jenna. “You should have called the doctor.”
She nodded, took the toast out of the toaster and put jam on it.
“I’ll take it to her,” he snarled, grabbing the plate out of her hand.
For once, he actually wanted to be useful, so she didn’t argue with him. Instead, she made tea and followed him up the stairs with her aunt’s favorite mug, a large white ceramic one with blue seagulls soaring across it. Gulls Just Want to Have Fun, it reminded her. Yeah, they were having fun now.
By the time she got to the bedroom, Pete had put an extra pillow behind Aunt Edie’s head. He was sitting on the side of the bed and coaxing her to have a bite of toast.
“Come, on, Edie old girl. It will do you good.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said querulously, and turned her face away.
Pete looked ready to cry. Jenna already felt the tears welling.
She knelt at the bed. “How about a sip of tea?”
“I just want to rest,” Aunt Edie said, eyes shut, tears slipping down her wrinkled cheeks.
Jenna bit her lip and patted her aunt’s arm. She and Pete exchanged worried glances.
Silence reigned in the room as they waited for the doctor to come. It seemed like an eternity before the doorbell rang.
Jenna went downstairs and opened the front door to find a man who looked to be somewhere in his fifties with red hair, a slightly jowly chin and a deep tan. He was wearing golf clothes and carried a medical bag.
“I’m Dr. Fielding,” he said. “I understand our Edie’s not feeling well.”
“She didn’t come down to make breakfast,” Jenna said. That made her sound like a disappointed child. “She’s always up early and puttering in the kitchen.” Her voice caught.
“Let’s check her out,” he said, and Jenna led him upstairs to her aunt’s room.
Aunt Edie lay still as death, her face turned away. She looked so pale.
“About time you got here,” Pete snapped as they walked in.
The doctor ignored him. “Well, now, Edie, what’s going on?”
“I don’t need a doctor,” she said, her face still turned.
“Probably not,” Fielding agreed. “Let’s check you out, anyway.”
Jenna and Pete watched as he took her pulse and her heart rate. “Can you smile for me, Edie? Raise your eyebrows? Squeeze my hand?”
Aunt Edie complied but didn’t look happy about it.
“Have you been taking your aspirin?” the doctor asked.
“Yes. I just want to rest,” she said irritably. “Every once in a while a woman needs to rest.”
“Very true,” said the doctor. “How long have you been feeling tired?”
Since Jenna let her down.
Edie was done talking. She clamped her lips together and closed her eyes again, and her three visitors left the room.
“What’s wrong with her?” Pete asked once they were in the front hall.
“Her heart and blood pressure are fine. She has no symptoms of stroke or heart attack,” said Fielding.
Pete threw up his arms, losing patience. “Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing physically.”
“Well, then, what?” Pete demanded.
“I think she’s depressed. Have you had some bad news recently?” the doctor asked Jenna.
She nodded. Damien again. He’d been bad news for years.
“Edie’s never depressed,” Pete insisted.
The doctor ignored him. “Rest and relaxation will do her a lot of good. I can prescribe something,” he said to Jenna.
The one thing her aunt needed most, he couldn’t help with, but she nodded. He wrote out an illegible prescription, told Jenna to call him if anything changed and left her and Pete standing in the hall.
Pete held out his hand. “I’ll go pick up the prescription.”
She nodded and handed it over, then went back upstairs to her aunt’s bedroom, pulled up a chair beside the bed and settled in to keep vigil. Aunt Edie said nothing.
Pete returned half an hour later and sat down on the other side of the bed. “The doc prescribed some pills for you,” he said to Aunt Edie.
She plucked at her bedspread. “I don’t want any pills. I just want to sleep. Can’t you both go away and let me sleep?”
Gruff old Pete seemed to cave in on himself.
“Okay, Edie,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m here if you want anything.”
He and Jenna tiptoed out of the room. “What are we going to do?” he whispered once they were on the landing.
“I don’t know,” Jenna whispered back. How did you help someone find hope when she’d lost it?