Tales From Sea Glass Inn (17 page)

“Oh,” Jocelyn said. Ari’s books flowed with
prose that seemed effortless and natural, so Jocelyn would never have guessed
the process of writing would be anything but easy for someone with her talent.
Jocelyn was the person in charge in her career—of course, she couldn’t stop
tragedies like the oil spill from ruining the tourist season, but she could
rebuild her business with hard work and smart choices. Ari lived in a different
world. Creativity couldn’t be forced or scheduled, and Jocelyn could imagine
the frustration of being out of control and unable to perform tasks. Being sick
was the closest she’d ever come to feeling the way Ari sounded when she talked
about her inability to write. Then no amount of wishing or organizing made any
difference. She suddenly felt guilty for forcing Ari to do this signing when
she was obviously having a difficult time with her writing, but a small part of
her wondered if the event had been good for Ari. A chance to be around people,
to focus on something besides her struggling project and maybe get unstuck. At
least Ari was talking about her problem now, and not hiding the real reason for
her reluctance from Jocelyn and everyone else around her. Jocelyn started
walking again, hoping to keep Ari talking. “Do you know why you’re having
trouble writing?”

She felt Ari’s shrug once they were walking
side by side again. “I might be too close to the subject. I never felt this
before, though, and I’ve always been able to use writing as a way to understand
and cope when I’m sad or hurt or confused.”

Jocelyn remembered what Ari had said about
the premise for her book. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and curled her
fingers gently around Ari’s arm. “You lost your mom?”

“Yes,” Ari said so quietly Jocelyn barely
heard her answer. “Almost a year ago. I’ve been stuck since then, I can’t write
anything. I thought if I faced it head-on in a book, I could finally get to a
point where I’m still sad, but I’m writing, too.”

Ari took Jocelyn’s hand in her own. Jocelyn
held tight to her, feeling the fragility of Ari’s emotions. She’d gotten to
know a few artists, like Pam, here at Cannon Beach, and she saw the same changeability
of mood and sensitivity in Ari. Nothing at all like the no-nonsense women
Jocelyn dated and understood as well as she understood herself.

“Were you close with your mom?”

“Sort of,” Ari said. “At times yes, other
times not so much. I guess it’s true with any family. She never thought writing
was a suitable profession, and she would never even discuss my sexuality. I
loved her, but I was angry because she didn’t seem to accept who I am since I
didn’t make the same choices she did. We grew apart over the past five years
and we didn’t get to resolve any of our issues. I miss her and hate to have
lost her, but sometimes the old anger comes back. Then I feel guilty for
holding on to those negative memories. I want to write it. To face all the pain
in a way I can handle and control instead of the messy and chaotic way it feels
inside me right now.”

Jocelyn realized she had been holding her
breath while Ari talked, and she exhaled softly. She had shared the story of
her childhood with Ari, and she knew this was as big a revelation as hers had
been. Tonight at the reading, Ari had carefully avoided talking about her
personal life and her current work—referring to it only vaguely when asked
directly about it. Jocelyn knew she didn’t give this information to just
anyone. She wanted to put her hands over her ears, to avoid hearing the words
because she was being drawn in to a life she couldn’t comprehend. One that
didn’t match hers at all.

“Why can’t you write something else for now?
Something less loaded emotionally and less hurtful. Something less close to
you. Then, when you’ve worked through the mourning process, you can go back to
this story you want to tell.”

“You mean figure it out first, and write it
later?” Ari asked. When Jocelyn nodded her head, Ari shook hers vehemently.
“That’s not the way I work. I can’t figure it out on my own. I need to see it
happen through my characters before I can sort it out in my own mind.”

“Maybe your relationship with your mom
deserves more than that. Maybe it was important enough to deserve having you
explore and examine it directly instead of assigning it to a character. I’m
sure your way of handling emotions is fine for some situations, but this is
huge. It shaped who you are and probably made her a different person as well.
You should look at the two of you, your lives and your interactions, not at two
fictional people who are shadows of your mom and you.”

“It’s not as easy as you make it sound—”

“Of course it isn’t,” Jocelyn said. She
stopped and pulled her hand out of Ari’s grasp. “Life never is. Don’t you think
I would have preferred to write a book about a kid with leukemia instead of
having to sit in a hospital bed in real life, getting jabbed with needles and
told I probably wouldn’t see age ten? But I couldn’t assign my life to some
made-up person. I had to fight to survive, no matter how much I wanted to bury
my head in the sand and pretend it wasn’t happening to me.”

Ari shoved her hands in her pockets again.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you. No child should have to go through that,
and no family should have to experience it. But we’re different people in two
very different situations. This is how my mind works.”

“Well, this time it isn’t working for you.”
Jocelyn wasn’t certain why she was this angry with Ari, but she couldn’t
control it anymore. The night had fluctuated too much, too fast. Why had she
caught Jocelyn in her swing from sexy to charming to maudlin? “So you should
change how you work through emotions. Handle the pain of life, and tell
stories. They don’t always need to be intertwined.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ari said, her
voice cold and flat.

“I’m not. I just…” Actually she had told Ari
what to do. She wasn’t a stranger to this conversation since she’d had some
variation of it with girlfriends in the past. She tried to fix things. To bring
everyone into her fight-to-survive-at-all-costs camp. Make a decision and do
it. Make the change necessary and follow through. Ari was a different breed
altogether. She’d never be like Jocelyn. Emotions would catch her like a leaf
in the breeze, tossing her this way and that until she figured out how to right
herself again.

“Good night,” Ari said. “Thanks again for
everything you did to plan the reading. I’ll walk from here and pick up my car
in the morning.”

She started walking toward Haystack Rock and
the Sea Glass Inn. Jocelyn wanted to call out an apology and ask Ari not to go.
To hold her and let her cry about her mom and her past until she was emptied of
the sorrow. To tell her she was fine the way she was. Whatever her creative
method was, it had worked for her in the past.

Jocelyn could have run after Ari and said all
those things, but she stayed still. Ari would figure out her own life and
manage it how she wanted. Her choices were none of Jocelyn’s business, and she
was better off not being emotionally involved.

She stood on the empty beach for another
hour, until sand flea bites and an increasingly cold wind forced her to go
home.

*

Jocelyn walked along the boardwalk in
Seaside, window shopping as she slowly made her way to the café where she was
meeting her twin sister. Maggie was never on time. She was one of the most
compassionate and capable people Jocelyn knew, but she couldn’t seem to grasp
the concept of time unless it was related to her work in some way. At the
hospital, she was punctual and precise. In life outside her job as an
oncologist, she was a flake. But she was Jocelyn’s flake.

The lack of tourists was more noticeable in
Seaside than in Cannon Beach, even though the former was a much larger town.
Cannon Beach still retained the feeling of a sleepy, tight-knit community, but
Seaside was a tourist town, pure and simple. Both had been hit hard by the oil
spill, and Jocelyn saw a few
For
Rent
signs in empty storefronts. For the most part, though, Seaside
was still healthy. These were business owners who really understood the
fluctuations of their trade. This year would be one of the lean ones, but those
were anticipated and accepted risks of doing business here.

Jocelyn passed two kite stores, a shop
selling humorous souvenir T-shirts, and a general store with everything a
tourist would need, from flip-flops to beach towels, in its windows. None of
them had more than three customers inside, but they were all open and fully
stocked. Jocelyn was beginning to see hope for the future of these beach
communities. The summer had been hard, and no one had been able to look much
beyond the present day. Now, even though the number of visitors was much lower
than the average, she felt a shift in the atmosphere. They were through the
worst and ready to hunker down for winter. Next year would be a fresh start.

“Joss, over here.”

Maggie’s voice cut through Jocelyn’s
introspection. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she had taken longer
than expected to get to the restaurant, and Maggie had actually beaten her
there. She wove through a cluster of empty wrought-iron tables to where her
sister was sitting. “Hey, Mags.”

Maggie stood to give her a hug. They were
fraternal twins, but alike enough to be easily recognized as siblings. Maggie’s
hair leaned more toward red than Jocelyn’s deep auburn, and she was an inch
taller—something she had lorded over Jocelyn ever since she had sprung ahead in
height during high school.

“Do you mind sitting outside? We can go in if
it’s too cold for you,” Maggie said, hovering next to her chair. “Or I can go
to my car and get you a jacket.”

Jocelyn sat and pushed Maggie’s chair out
with her foot. “Sit down, Mags. I won’t die of hypothermia while we’re eating.”

Maggie winced at the phrasing, and Jocelyn
reminded herself to watch what she said during their lunch. She forgot and
joked about things Maggie would never find funny. She still treated Jocelyn
like the fragile and sick child she had been years ago, and Jocelyn wasn’t
convinced Maggie truly believed she was healthy now. If Mags had her way,
Jocelyn would be in the hospital for monthly scans and diagnostic tests, just
to be certain. Jocelyn put up with Maggie’s caretaking and worrying because
Maggie had saved her life.

“Your book signing was awesome, sis,” Maggie
said after they ordered sandwiches. “Although I’m wounded because you didn’t
tell me you and Ariana Knight are an item.”

“An item? We’re friendly, but nothing more.
Besides, who calls couples an
item
anymore?”

“I do,” Maggie said, taking a sip of her
lemonade. “And don’t change the subject. I saw how the two of you were ogling
each other. If I’d had any doubts, they disappeared when you were feeling her
up at the food table.”

Jocelyn swallowed her soda the wrong way and
started coughing. “I did not!” she said when she could speak again. “She had
powdered sugar on her shirt and I was wiping it off.”

Maggie snorted. “Oh, please. I thought I
might need to turn the hose on you. At least she didn’t seem to mind.”

Jocelyn stayed silent. She wanted to protest
and deny any feelings she might have for Ari, but the more she denied it, the
guiltier she would look. Besides, Mags knew her better than anyone. She’d spot
Jocelyn in a lie from a mile away. She’d obviously seen the attraction Jocelyn
had been feeling for Ari—exacerbated by their kiss—but hopefully no one else at
the party could read her well enough to suspect any involvement between the two
of them. Well, Pam had been laughing during the powdered sugar incident, as if
she’d noticed something. Just Maggie and Pam, then. Of course, Pam would most
likely tell Mel. So only three people knew…

Jocelyn’s head was beginning to hurt. She
nearly overlooked Maggie’s last comment, but the words sank in eventually. “You
really think she liked it when I…well, the whole shirt thing?”

“Are you kidding? What woman wouldn’t?
Besides, she didn’t swat your hands away, so I think you’ve got a shot.”

“We kissed before the party,” Jocelyn
admitted after their lunch was served. She picked up a potato chip and waved it
for emphasis. “Nothing serious. Just a casual kiss.”

“Liar,” Maggie said. “Okay, you kissed before
the party and rubbed her chest during it. Spill. What happened after?”

Jocelyn took her time chewing and swallowing
some of her sandwich before she answered. She didn’t like this part. She chose
her words carefully, not willing to share Ari’s confessions with anyone, not
even her twin. “We kind of argued. She’s having issues with her new book, and I
guess I sort of gave her unwanted advice.”

“No,” Maggie said in a fake-shocked voice.
“You? You got bossy with a girlfriend and pushed her away once you started to
get close? I don’t believe it.”

“I’m not bossy.”

“You’re a control freak and you know it. You
have intimacy issues. Big deal, welcome to the club.”

Jocelyn frowned and put her sandwich back on
the plate. Maggie never prevaricated with her. She spoke her mind, no matter
what. Jocelyn was the same with her, and she wished she could find the same
level of trust and honesty with a romantic partner. She sensed Maggie did, too.
Neither had found it yet.

“She was stuck in an emotional wallow. I was
trying to help.”

Maggie shook her head. “You had a choice in
that moment. What was your other option?”

Jocelyn thought back to the conversation on
the beach. She had been faced with a choice, just like Maggie said. She could
have supported Ari. Listened to her and let Ari use her as a sounding board.
She was opening up about a sensitive emotional topic, and Jocelyn had shut her
down. She could have been Ari’s muse, but instead she pushed her deeper inside
herself.