Chapter Fifteen

Going Back

 

 

Claire was running late. The church service started at 11:00, and it was 11:15. She had to wait for the ferry on the mainland—it was running behind schedule, too. There were only four cars in the parking lot of the church when she pulled in from the street. Not that she thought it would be packed, but still it reassured her to think Frieda had more friends than the Prescotts, who, incidentally, weren’t there—not one of them.

The service was quick, practically over by the time Claire took her seat in the second pew. Fifteen or so people showed up to pay their final respects and to hear the reverend talk a little about how Frieda would be missed. He spoke about how every Sunday Frieda made it to the church with her pretty smile and how during the holidays she was always the one who initiated sending Christmas cards to soldiers stationed across seas. She was an asset to the community. Claire saw one of the women wiping her cheek with a handkerchief. She was probably the one who found her that morning.

The casket was closed, so after the preaching was done and one lonely song that the organist played was finished, Claire waited until the others left to go stand by it. It was long and silver. She’d only been up close to one other one: her mother’s. That was burgundy, trimmed in gold. Melanie purchased it, along with taking care of the plot expense. Claire could never bring herself to make the trip out to Westmeyer’s cemetery to visit. To think of her mother in the ground brought sadness to her heart.

Claire rubbed her hand down the side of Frieda’s casket. It was cold and hard. Thoughts of a younger Frieda came to her mind. The one whose baby had been taken away from her. How she was never able to live the life she’d dreamed about that summer at the beach house with Buddy Jr. How she never could admit James was her son, and could never spend the holidays with him or brag to her friends, these fifteen elderly women and men, how proud she was of him. She had lived a lonely, secret life and now she’d died lonely, with her secret buried with her.

Someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned and saw Colin. Her eyes widened with surprise and her stomach fell to the ground. What was he doing there? She swallowed hard. “Colin, I didn’t know you were coming. Mallory didn’t mention it when I talked to her this week.” She was going to kill Mallory for not telling her.

“Hi, Claire. It’s nice to see you.” He shuffled to get out from the pew where he must’ve sat, unseen by her.

“How are you?” She walked back toward the empty rows. The only one left in the church was the preacher, and he’d disappeared somewhere.

“I’m good. I just wanted to come and pay my respects.”

The thought didn’t really shock her. It seemed Colin was Frieda’s pick. He always got more ice cream scoops than the rest of them and she’d caught Frieda, several times, telling him stories in his room before bedtime.

“It’s all such a shock. I feel like I just saw her.” Actually, six years was a long time. However, Claire and she wrote to each other every month.

“Yeah, I know. She seemed fine a few months ago.”

“Then you saw her? A few months ago, that is?”
      “No, actually Mom and Dad came up and said she was no different than usual. It’s just all so sudden.”

Claire rubbed the wood on the pew with her fingers. It was worn and soft from forty years of church services, weddings, and funerals. Her heart raced being so close to Colin. He’d barely changed since the last time she saw him, although his hair was styled a little longer, and he was parting it on the side. And his eyes seemed a bit older. More years of life sat behind the blueness of them.

“So hey, would you like to go grab some coffee? Catch up before you leave?” He rocked back and forth on his heels.

She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. It’d taken so long to rid her mind of daydreams of him. Going back to square one wouldn’t be advisable for her mental health. This chance encounter would possibly take months to get him from her mind.

“Sure, why not?”

 

∞ ∞ ∞

 

He followed her car to the café down from the church. The little town seemed so empty without all the tourists. Only a few people could be seen milling around the shops—the ones that remained open for the off-season. It was October and everyone who was on the island lived there year round. There were orange lights blinking in the front window of the coffee shop and a poster of a ghost hung on the door. He opened it for her to go inside first. He watched her hand as it swung beside her when she walked past. He remembered holding it in bed all those summers ago, playing with her fingers.

They sat down with their cups of hot coffee and looked out the window. He couldn’t imagine her to be as nervous as he was. She looked so put together. So amazingly mature and beautiful. She’d managed to improve with age. Not that he thought she wouldn’t. She crossed his mind all the time. But she wasn’t blonde like she was now. Her hair reached the middle of her back. And she wore makeup. He noticed her red lipstick had transferred to the white coffee cup. The type of clothing she wore was certainly different than he remembered. The carefree dresses he loved on her were replaced with a tailor-made navy pant suit with a silky blouse underneath.

“So, how’s New York? Still busy there?” He had no idea what to talk about.

“Colin, I’m sorry about what happened before.” Her eyes seemed sad when she said it, growing smaller as her brow weighed down on them.

He set down his cup from taking a sip. It was too hot to drink. “Claire, let’s not talk about that. It’s over now.”
      “I know. I just wanted to say how sorry I was about it. That’s all.”

He resituated himself in the hardback chair. Nervous energy. Just the thought of the pain he went through that night Claire left was beginning to anger him. All of his hopes and dreams left with her. And so did the only girl he ever loved.

“So, Mallory tells me you have a daughter.” He gnashed his back teeth, trying to channel his thoughts to someplace else. The thought of her and Alex happy with a child gave him hives.

Claire smiled. “Yes, Pearl. She’s a little fireball. In fact, I have to call in a few hours to check on her. She’s having a sleepover at a friend’s house.” She checked her watch. “And I hear you also have a daughter.”

“Yes, Mirabel.” He took out his phone and found a picture to show her.

She touched his hand in the exchange. The sensation pinged his insides like a high-pitched alarm.

“She’s the spitting image of you, Colin. How old is she?”

“She’s two. The terrible twos, but she’s actually been sick lately. So, it hasn’t been too terrible. Just pitiful, pretty much.”

Claire let go of the phone and clasped her mug in her hands. It was chilly in the little shop. The cold wind blowing outside was making its way underneath the gaping crack of the door.

“I hope it’s nothing serious. Mallory said hand, foot, mouth disease is going around where she lives.”

“I’m sure it’s just a virus, too.” He stretched and finally leaned in on his elbows and took a deep breath. “So wow! What a twist of fate. You and Alex?”

She fidgeted with the clasp on her necklace, taking it back around to the nape of her neck. It seemed she would’ve liked to change the subject.

“Yeah, how about that.”

“It turns out you became a Prescott anyway, huh?”

She looked over at the lonely lady behind the counter. She was engrossed in their conversation—both elbows rested on the Formica countertop and her chin perched on top of her folded hands.

“I really do have to be going, Colin. I’m checking in at the hotel on Mission Point, and I’m tired from the plane ride here.”

He’d touched a nerve. Why did he go there? He had to. It’d been burning a hole right through him since his mother called and told him she’d read the announcement in the paper. It would’ve been all right if she’d married anyone but that guy. He was so smug. And now he was the one who got to spend every night lying next to her long, soft arms. Rubbing her hair and kissing her bare breasts.

“Okay,” he said, with his mind going in a million different places while seeing a million different splices of his past with her flash before his eyes. “I’m going to try to make it back to the mainland before the last ferry.”

They stood at the same time. He wasn’t sure what was appropriate. Could he hug her, or would a handshake seem more apropos? He didn’t have to wonder long. Claire leaned in and kissed his cheek. Although technically her lips never touched him. Her cheek did. It pressed against his and his eyes shut. He inhaled deeply to smell her. She smelled like home.

“It was good seeing you, Colin. Have a safe trip home.”

He watched as her car pulled out of the gravel parking lot. Her brake lights were the last thing to see before she released them and pulled away. He looked back at the table…at the lip-stained mug. There was so many things he wished he would’ve said.

 

∞ ∞ ∞

 

She watched through her rearview mirror at the guy who still haunted her. Now, being on the island with him, was making her crazy. She made sure he wasn’t following her and turned right to get on the tiny bridge that connected the beach house to downtown. She remembered driving it with Frieda and hearing her secret that day. That’s why she’d stayed in touch with her these past years. They shared a bond. And a secret. So it was fitting to tell Frieda about Pearl. It wasn’t unnatural for her to think Pearl was her great-grandchild. And Claire continued to send pictures of the little girl as she grew up. Now she had to go and retrieve them from the house. If someone else had found them, it would be hard to explain why they were grouped with Bailey’s, Carson’s, and Mirabel’s. Claire would slip in and slip out. No problem.

She took the road that went toward the guesthouse. Frieda was most likely to have kept them in her room there, Claire thought. She parked the car and went up to the door. She stood on tiptoes and rubbed her fingers along the top edge of the doorframe. Nothing was there. Crap. Where was the extra key? She tried the doorknob for obvious reasons. Locked. She walked around back.

The wind had begun to pick up speed. Leaves flew in the air like a tossed salad, and trees swayed back and forth, banging limbs on limbs. The noise was eerie. A storm was about to hit Kelly’s Cove before nightfall.

Claire tried the back door. No luck. She looked up and noticed a window that had been cracked open. The screen would be easy enough to poke out if she could reach it. There was a shed on the other side of the house, out toward the line of pine trees. Claire went to find something to stand on.

She was in luck. There was a ladder lying against the back wall of the shed. She had to remove some pots and a couple of chairs before getting to it, though. Something moved in the corner of the small outbuilding and frightened her to scream. She ran from the building, clutching and dragging the ladder along with her.

The heels of her shoes sunk into the soft ground as she made her way back to the house. She leaned the ladder against the side and wiggled it for stability. It didn’t appear to not be able to support her and this covert mission. She pulled her hair together and tucked it in her blouse. With caution, she stepped on the rungs with her toes, hoping not to get her heels caught. On the sixth rung, she heard someone say something. She turned quickly and almost fell off.

“I said, are you considering breaking and entering a new hobby?” He yelled it louder, cupping his hands around his mouth for her to hear better.

“Why do you always do that?” First the creature in the building, now Colin. She heard her heartbeats like drum rolls inside her head.

“Do what?” He went and held on to the swaying ladder.

“Sneak up on me.”

“When have I ever snuck up on you, Claire?”

“That night on the dock. You nearly killed me then spooking me, too.”

He covered his mouth, laughing. “Spooking you?”

“Yes, spooking me.” She started to climb back down. “Don’t you remember?”

She stepped on the last rung and was eye to eye with him. “Yeah, I remember that night.”

Stop the presses. She was sorry she mentioned it. The way his eyes stared at her when he said it meant he was feeling all the same things she was when she said it. His line of vision was now resting on her lips. She felt his breath on her face and the inside of her thighs began to burn.

“Well then. Try not to do it.” She stepped off and clapped the dirt off her hands.

“Then stop trying to kill yourself. Why are you on a ladder, anyway? And here? I thought you were going to the hotel.”

“I thought you were going to the ferry.”

“I had to take care of something at the church first.”

“Well, I needed to get in there.” She pointed at the house.

“I see that. Why?”

She stammered. The wind had managed to blow some hair from her blouse and it was getting in her face. She pulled at the strands. “I forgot something.”

“From six years ago? You could’ve called. I’m sure Frieda would’ve been more than happy to have sent it to you.”

“She didn’t know it was there.”

“What is it?”

“My diary. I hid it underneath the mattress. I couldn’t very well ask her to send it. She’d have read it.” Close call. Thank God she’d just watched a movie with a similar scenario in it.

“Ahh.” He looked intrigued. A little devilish smile danced on his lips. “Good stuff in it, huh?”

“Not really. Just private things.”

“Then by all means, let’s go inside and get it.” He held up his hand to escort her around to the front door. She went first.

Suddenly she stopped abruptly and put her hand up to his chest. “I need to go by myself, if you don’t mind.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why? You told me where it’s at. It’s not like you can hide it there again.”

“I know. I just want to go in by myself. If you don’t mind.”

He didn’t question her and handed over the key and waited outside on the stoop.

She shut the door behind her and quickly darted to the kitchen, pulling open cabinets and opening drawers. She didn’t want to leave any stone uncovered. With nothing to find there, she ran up the stairs. She opened all the doors. Not looking for pictures, per se, but revisiting her times there that summer with Colin.

She remembered it as if it were yesterday. So many times she replayed it in her mind. How they tripped up the stairs to get to the bedroom. How her heart beat for the first time, lying beside him after they’d made love on the yellow sunflower sheets. How she knew he was special and no one would ever measure up to what she felt for him. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. That chapter was over. She needed to move on.

She made it to Frieda’s room and taped to her mirror was a collection of children’s pictures. Among them was Pearl. With precision, she extracted the little photographs, marking each year from her birth on—one of her as a ballerina in a school production and another one dressed like a clown for Halloween. She left the others remaining. It didn’t look too odd with the missing spaces. She made sure to clean off the sticky tape residue.

Looking around, she couldn’t find anything to carry them out in. She opened the top of her blouse and tucked them inside her bra. She fixed herself in the mirror and went back outside to where Colin waited for her.

“Find it?” He stood up from leaning against his car.

Her look was priceless. She’d forgot about the stupid made-up diary story. Her eyes stayed open, widely, and unblinking. The air was beginning to dry them out. Her forehead was drawn into ten folded wrinkles. She was had.

“It wasn’t there. I must’ve misplaced it somewhere else.”

“Well, now you won’t be thinking it was here anymore, I guess.”

She stepped down from the porch steps. “I guess.”

“So, what’d you write in that thing, anyway?”

He must’ve been thinking it was all about him. She smiled and flipped back her hair. “You’ll never know.”

A loud noise came from back of the house. Colin ran to see what it was.

The ladder had fallen down, blown by the angry winds coming from the cove. The clouds were gray and black ones were beginning to push them out of the way. A few sprinkles fell from the sky.

“I’m screwed. This is all I need.”

“Why?” She pulled the hair from her eyes and squinted from the blowing wind to see him.

“Dad called and asked if I could board up the house before I left. Frieda never called the handyman and now he’s left the island and moved back to the mainland for the winter.”

“Is there no one else? You can’t do that by yourself. Especially in this weather.”
      “I have to, at least try to. I’m not coming back, and they waited too long to find someone. If I don’t do it, we could get damage to the house.”

“I can go help you. It won’t take long if we both do it together.”

“Claire, it’s started to rain. We’ll never finish before the storm, and I’ve got to catch the last ferry out of here. Screw it. I’ll tell Dad I couldn’t.”

“Let’s be storm chasers, Colin.” She grabbed his hand and ran toward her car with him. “The storm isn’t here yet. We’ve got another thirty minutes at least. I can feel it.”

They got in her car and sped to the beach house. The very worst idea she’d had yet.