Forever Beach (7 page)

“I'm not on duty, get Heckle or Jeckle to help you, that's what they're here for.” Eddie swiveled his chair so that his back was to Dominic.

Travis, who Eddie usually called Thing One, looked up from his tablet. “Is he talking about us?”

“Yep,” Eddie said, not turning around.

“What did you call us?”

“Heckle and Jeckle.”

“Who are they?” Thing Two, real name Carl, asked.

Eddie groaned and slid down in his chair until only the bald spot showed over the back.

“Make some calls,” Reesa told them. She walked over to the boy. “Hey, I'm Mrs. Davis. What's your name?”

He looked at the ground.

“Would you like to use the bathroom to clean up?”

A minute nod of his head.

“Good. Mr. Hawes will show you where it is.”

“And Mr. Hawes will clean up a little himself,” Dominic said. “Travis, you can come help out.”

Reesa smiled encouragingly. This is not what they thought their job would be back in whatever college they graduated from. She just hoped they stuck around long enough to do some good.

Travis reluctantly followed the other two. Carl waited expectantly.

“You start on the emergency families,” Reesa said. “I'll call the group homes.”

Fortunately they hit pay dirt with the second group home. They had one bed. Reesa claimed it and sent Dominic, Travis, and the kid over with the paperwork.

Reesa said good night to Eddie who hadn't turned back around and was probably sleeping. The night shift would be coming on soon. Carl could handle things until then.

She considered stopping by the grocery, but she didn't feel like cooking. She'd order out, Greek maybe. Maybe she could convince Michael to get up and go out to the diner or
the pub. But who was she kidding; he never wanted to go anywhere.

As she drove home she considered calling Karen or Sarah to see what they were doing. She knew they'd be glad to have her. But Karen had her family, and hopefully Sarah had managed to apologize to Wyatt and would be with him tonight.

Reesa wished she could tell Sarah to just let Wyatt help her. So what if it didn't last forever? But Reesa had been around foster kids long enough to know they very rarely came out unscathed. Sarah hadn't. And she still had serious trust issues. Probably always would. But she was one of the lucky ones.

She had stumbled into a miracle named Sam Gianetti. Reesa had never met him, but she wished she had a hundred more of him to pass around.

As soon as she opened the house door, she heard the ball game. She dropped her keys on the hall table, left her briefcase next to it, and made her way back to the kitchen.

“I'm home,” she called into the family room.

A grunt from Michael.

She went into the kitchen for a glass of water. There was an open pizza box on the table. Three pieces were gone, and the rest was a hardened mess. But Reesa was suddenly ravenous. She pulled off a triangle. Took a bite. Spit it out and tossed it back into the box.

“How long has this pizza been here?” she called.

“Lunch.”

“You want to go out for dinner?”

“The game's on.”

She closed the box, folded it over, and pushed it into the trash can. She sat down at the table and rested her forehead on the heels of her hands.

Her stomach growled. It looked like it would be a can of soup for her tonight.

She opened the cabinet, then changed her mind, went into the hall and opened the closet door. There was a bottle of peach schnapps her sister-in-law had given them for Christmas. She'd never opened it.

But schnapps over ice sounded like a good thing. She stood on tiptoe and worked it off the shelf. Maybe she'd just forgo the soup and really drink her dinner tonight. She'd just returned to the kitchen when she heard the front door open.

“Ma.”

“Back here, Tony.” At twenty, Tony was her baby. The only one of her children who actually lived nearby. Michael Junior had stayed in Chicago once he graduated from business school, and Evelyn was a stewardess and flew out of Philly.

He came into the kitchen. “Ma, what are you doing sitting in the dark?”

Reesa looked up. “It isn't really dark. It's just that the tree needs trimming. It blocks out the light.”

“You look tired.”

Reesa noticed he didn't offer to come trim it. “Rough week.”

He pulled his hand from behind his back. “Brought you these.” He presented a bouquet of roses. The fact that she'd seen bouquets just like them being sold by the guy who accosted drivers when they stopped at the light on Main Street made no difference.

“They're beautiful,” she said and took them. “I'll get a vase. Go say hello to your father.”

“His Highness still on his butt in the family room?”

She nodded. “He just can't seem to get motivated. Go say hi.”

He strode off down the hall. He was back before she finished putting the roses in the vase.

“Is he just going to sit there until he croaks?” Tony said. “He'd better get over his leg not being perfect, and go find some other kind of work.”

“I've tried. He's just not interested. I lined up a headhunter, even a therapist, you know, for depression. But he refuses to go. What am I supposed to do?”

“You're supposed to be the great mom you are and enjoy these roses. Then next spring or summer or whenever, we'll plant new rosebushes. How's that?”

“Sounds good.” He'd said the same thing last year, but there had never been enough time. “How's work at the garage?”

“Same old, same old. Though we did have a beauty of a Chrysler come in the other day. Nineteen ninety-four. Old man Diggins. Remember him? It's been sitting in his garage for the last ten years doing nothing. Now he wants to sell it.”

“Does it even work?”

“It will when we finish with it. If I had the money, I'd buy it myself.”

Reesa laughed. “For the purpose of?”

“No purpose at all, just for the heck of it. Well, I've got to run. Meeting some of the guys for a serious night of beer and bowling.”

“You good for money?”

“Yep.” He leaned over the table and kissed her cheek. “Love you, Ma.”

“Love you, too.” She walked him to the door.

Reesa locked it after he left, then went back to the kitchen. The schnapps bottle still sat on the table. What was she thinking? She didn't want to sit alone in her kitchen drinking
schnapps. Maybe next Christmas she'd invite some people over, have a party. Christmas was a good time for schnapps. She carried it back to the closet and pushed it back onto the shelf.

Tonight she was going to the beach.

S
ARAH CLOSED UP
the shop at six. The craft fair had drawn a lot of customers away from the main business fare. She didn't have anything out on the sidewalk, so it was pretty much the quiet day she'd expected.

Instead of stopping at home, she walked the block and a half to the beach where she'd promised to meet Karen and the kids. Jenny had picked up Leila after lunch, and Leila was probably tired and cranky by now. With the kiddie fair and the food and the beach, Sarah doubted if they'd made it back to the house for a nap.

That was okay. Sarah never went into the store on Sundays. Tomorrow they would take it easy and stay at home. And then Sarah would have to tell Leila that she had to visit Carmen.

If she were honest, she was not just afraid of upsetting Leila. There was a tiny part of her that was terrified Carmen would stay off drugs this time, that Leila would go back and want to stay with her. And Sarah should be happy if that happened. Children belonged with their real parents. Social services were always saying that, how it was important to reunify the family.

Sarah knew that, but she was selfish. And she knew that, too. What would she do if they sent Leila back? She wouldn't think about it. Just let it play out.
Fix the now.

The beach was still crowded though people were beginning to pack up their gear and trudge back to the street and their cars or bikes. She caught sight of Karen's umbrella, green with
big pink polka dots that one of her foster care class members had given her as a thank-you.

Sarah stopped to take off her shoes and roll up her pants even though she didn't plan on getting wet. Over the years Sam had taught her to love the beach, appreciate the ocean, but he'd never been able to convince her to learn to swim.

Karen was sitting in a chair beneath the umbrella. A big straw hat hid her face. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, and she held a bottle of iced tea.

Next to her, Reesa Davis, dressed in gingham clam diggers and a white peasant blouse, cradled a bag of potato chips.

There was one vacant beach chair. Sarah looked out at the sand and found Stu, stretched out on a towel, a paperback open beside him, its pages fluttering with each breeze.

Karen lifted the brim of her hat. “Hey, girlfriend. Are you going to sit down or are you just gonna stand their ogling the hunky lifeguard playing with the girls?”

“I'm going to sit, but actually I was looking at your hunky husband.”

“Sure you were.”

Sarah sat in the empty chair. “Hi, Reesa. Haven't seen you at the beach for a while.”

“Been busy, but I'm turning over a new leaf.” Reesa crunched down on a chip hard enough for pieces to explode down her blouse.

“She's having a rough week,” Karen said. “So we have to be nice to her.”

Reesa reached in the bag and threw a chip at her. It landed on Karen's lap and Karen popped it in her mouth, then reached over and helped herself to more chips.

“Hope it wasn't because of me and Leila.”

“Not at all,” Reesa said. “You are officially no longer my headache. Now I just care about you because you're my friend. And before you ask, because I know you're dying to, Leila was fine when she saw me. A little wary until she remembered that I no longer have the dubious pleasure of taking her to parental visits and psychology appointments. We're good.”

“And the girls are over there practicing for the sand castle competition,” Karen added.

Sarah followed a trail of colorful shovels, pails, and containers to where Leila, Bessie, and Tammy were building a sprawling, lopsided sand castle with the help of Jenny and—“Is that Wyatt? I thought you were kidding about the hunky lifeguard.”

“It's really Wyatt. I guess they were shorthanded today. So they hit the rescue team for volunteers. Rory nabbed him as he was coming off his shift and begged him to throw the Frisbee. Then the girls stole him from Rory who went off with his friend Billy. See what you miss when you work all day? He and Leila are getting along famously.”

“I'll say.”

Wyatt was sitting cross-legged next to Leila. He looked good even with his back to her: tanned broad shoulders, that nearly black hair. He excited Sarah and calmed her at the same time. And Leila seemed perfectly fine with him, without Sarah even being there. You just never knew.

As she watched, Leila poured a shovelful of dirt onto his bare knee. Wyatt turned to her and must have made a funny face, because Leila squealed then started giggling.

“See? Fine?”

Sarah bit her lip. “Everybody's fine, but me.”

“Pretty much. And you'd be fine if you'd just let yourself be.”

“I know. Sam used to always say that.”

“And you listened to him. Try listening to the rest of us for a change.”

“I
am
trying.”

“I know, hon. There's an iced tea in the cooler. Sit down and take a load off for a while.”

Sarah accepted both gratefully.

She closed her eyes and gave in to the calming sound of the waves. She was wakened by someone pulling on her eyelids.

“Mommee, wake up.”

“Hey, sandy girl.” Sarah shifted in the chair so Leila could climb up, which she did, and sat her wet little butt on Sarah's lap.

“Now you look like the rest of us,” Wyatt said, coming to stand over her. He was wearing the low-riding red jammers of the beach patrol. A white T-shirt was hanging from the waistband. An ID medallion hung on a silver chain around his neck.

Leila scrambled off Sarah's lap. “Watch what Wyatt teached me.”

Wyatt feigned embarrassment. “Aw, don't make me.”

“C'mon, c'mon.” Leila pulled him to a place in front of the chairs.

“High five right,” she squealed.

They high-fived right hands.

“High five left.”

They clapped left hands.

“Low five,” she yelled even louder.

They turned their palms down and low-fived right and left. Leila's hands disappeared into Wyatt's each time.

“Hokey pokey five,” she screamed. They high-fived; both waved their fingers in the air and turned in a circle, wiggling
their butts, one small and low to the ground, the other looking mighty fine in red jammers.

When they stopped, Leila giggled and ran in circles around Wyatt until she fell down.

The women exchanged looks, then burst out laughing.

“The hokey pokey five?”

“I had to do something to show Stu up. He taught her high five. I had to come up with something fancy. Anyway, the hokey pokey part was Leila's idea.”

Hearing his name, Stu roused from the beach towel and came over, shaking the towel while sand flew everywhere.

“They never grow up,” Karen said.

“Just old,” Reesa said, and Sarah was pretty sure she wasn't joking.

S
tu came to sit on the end of Karen's chaise, making it sink into the sand. Having recovered from her dizzy circles, Leila climbed back onto Sarah's lap, adding a fresh deposit of sand.

Wyatt pulled the cooler next to Sarah's chair and sat on it. “You should have changed before you came.”

“I know. I didn't mean to stay.”

“Glad you did.”

Sarah looked past him to find Reesa, Karen, and Stu all watching them.

“Me, too. The ocean's calming.” That's not what she meant to say. “So you pulled lifeguard duty today?”

“Just a couple of hours. I split the afternoon shift with another sub.”

“Sub,” Stu groaned. “What's for dinner?”

“Pizza,” yelled Bessie and Tammy.

Sarah looked down at Leila suddenly quiet in her lap. She was asleep.

“Looks like this one is ready for a bath and bed,” Sarah said.

“The girls have had a big day,” Karen said. “We'll just go to the pizza place across the street.”

Sarah nudged the sleeping Leila. “Bunny boo, do you want to have dinner?”

Leila made a discontented sigh, snuggled deeper into Sarah's side. “I think we're heading for home. Thanks though. And thanks, Jenny, for watching Leila. See you next week?”

Jenny nodded.

Sarah shifted in her seat. Wyatt stood and lifted Leila smoothly from her lap. Sarah stood and reached to take her back.

“You grab my bag. I'll walk you home.”

Sarah was acutely aware of Karen and Stu grinning at them, and Reesa smiling her approval. Leila was draped over Wyatt's chest like a little sea creature, and Sarah's heart gave a thump.

Caught off guard, she grabbed the red duffel bag of the rescue patrol, thankful it was a lifeguard day with no scuba gear inside.

“See you guys,” she said. “See you on Monday, Reesa?”

Reesa held up her hand. “Quarter to nine sharp.”

Sarah nodded and followed Wyatt across the sand. She felt so blessed to have people who cared about her, and whom she could care about. She wanted to tell them how much it meant to her, but she always seemed to get stuck when she tried to say the words. Even now, there was a dark place inside her that was afraid. Afraid to reach out, afraid that her attempts would
be flung back in her face, afraid of finding herself back in the emotional version of a group home.

Wyatt had stopped at the steps to the boardwalk to wait for her. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yep.”

They walked the block and a half to her house without speaking. But tonight it was a comfortable silence, a silence where she didn't have to constantly question herself about what she was doing, what she was feeling, whether it would be good for Leila or not. She was sick of second-guessing. Tonight, she was happy to walk alongside Wyatt and Leila. To be a part of something that was sort of real.

The hydrangeas were in full bloom and spilled over the sidewalk so that Sarah and Wyatt had to move closer together. He slipped his free arm around her waist, letting his hand rest on her hip bone. And she was so tempted to lean into him and rest for just a little while.

But that wouldn't be fair. He had his own life to take care of.

They kicked off their shoes on the front porch and went inside. Wyatt carried Leila straight to the bathroom and handed her off to Sarah.

“I'll see what you have in the fridge.” And he left before she could say, “Not tonight.” Not that she was going to. She wanted to extend this piece of normalcy as long as she could. Who knew what Monday would bring?

Sarah turned on the tub and barely managed to rouse Leila long enough to wash off the sand and change her into pajamas before she was snoring peacefully in her bed.

“Good night, sunshine,” Sarah whispered and tiptoed out of the room. She could hear the shower running in the bathroom. She hesitated, caught for a moment between continuing to the
kitchen to check for something to cook or joining Wyatt in the shower. She glanced back at the semiclosed door of Leila's bedroom. She would be asleep for a while. Dinner could wait.

She turned the knob of the bathroom door and slipped inside.

“D
ID THOSE TWO
make up?” Reesa asked as she slapped her shoes together to rid them of sand.

“I don't know that they actually had a fight,” Karen said. “You know Sarah, two steps forward, one step back, sometimes one forward, and two back.”

“Well, if you ask me, Wyatt doesn't help.”

“What do you mean?” Stu said, picking up the chaise and starting to fold it. “He's always doing stuff for her.”

“Yeah, doing stuff,” Reesa said. “I'm talking about emotional commitment.”

Stu stopped what he was doing, looked at her in a cross between
What the heck are you talking about?
and
Duh
. He snapped the chair shut. “You're talking about Sarah. There's an awful lot he'd have to commit to. And she doesn't make it easy.”

“Has he said anything to you?” Karen asked.

“Guys don't talk about stuff like that.”

“The heck they don't,” Karen said. “I know your faulty brains sometimes get stuck on . . .” She looked to see that the girls wouldn't hear her. “Tits and ass, but I have faith that conversations at the pub sometimes go beyond that.”

“Sure they do,” Stu said and grinned. “There's work stuff, basketball, and fantasy league football.”

Karen rolled her eyes.

Reesa was envious. Well, not exactly envious. She wouldn't want to have to do young children again. But she'd love to have
a husband who laughed with her. Made jokes even if they were stupid. Who would do anything except lie around the house and feel sorry for himself.

“I'm thinking about leaving Michael.” Reesa froze, appalled at what had just come out of her mouth. She'd never even considered leaving Michael.

Karen and Stu had both frozen and were staring at her.

“Sorry. I don't know why I said that. I must be going crazy.” She quickly folded her beach towel and shoved it into her bag. “I'd better get home. I had a lovely time.”

She turned to go.

“Wait a minute,” Karen said, running to stop her. “You can't drop a bomb like that, then say I had a nice time, see ya.”

Reesa bit her lip. She was afraid she might burst into irrational tears. She wasn't thinking about leaving her husband. They'd been married almost thirty years.

“I don't know why I said that. I . . . just had a bad week.”

“Well, you're not going home feeling like that. Though I think dinner calls for something more than pizza, don't you, Stu?”

“No, really, you guys go ahead. I'll be fine. I was just being . . . I don't know.”

“Stu will take the girls to pick up some dinner. I'll drive with you to our house, where we'll have a grown-up dinner and you can tell us what the hell is going on.”

“Yeah,” Stu said. “Me and the girls will pick up dinner. Yeah, wow. This is crazy.”

Karen insisted on riding with Reesa. She climbed into the passenger seat and waited for Reesa to get in. “I take it Michael isn't bouncing back from his injury?”

Reesa pulled into the street and stopped at the corner. She
looked over at Karen in the passenger seat. “It's hard to bounce when you only leave your recliner to get another beer.”

“Is he drinking a lot?”

“Not really. I don't know, actually. I haven't been around that much. It's summer, and for child services, it's the equivalent of the Christmas rush. So many god-awful situations to choose from. Get them quick before it's too late.” Reesa waited for a car to pass by, then hit the gas pedal a little too hard.

The car jolted across the intersection. “Sorry. It's just all hitting me for some reason. It's hard enough to see parents struggling, failing, hanging on by their bitten-to-the-quick fingernails, trying to deal with an overworked, underorganized, and haphazardly funded system, and then come home to a guy who won't even get out of a chair while he's complaining about how much I work.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“That he probably shouldn't try to work on roofs anymore.”

“And that's all he wants to do?”

“He was a good roofer. It paid well. But he used to be interested in other things. Hell, we have some savings; he could buy a roofing company and send other guys up the ladder.”

“And that's what it's about, isn't it?”

Reesa nodded. “I think it's all about not being able to do what he could do. Something he was proud of. To suddenly have me making more money than he is just makes it worse.”

“Did you suggest he get off disability and get a job?”

Reesa cracked a laugh. “Several times. I researched headhunters, cut out ads in the paper. Suggested he take the civil servants' test. He won't budge. I mentioned therapy—you know, the psychological kind. He nearly snapped my head off. So then I suggested family counseling. His reaction was to pick
up the remote and increase the volume on the baseball game. He hardly acknowledges my presence.”

“That sucks. Maybe I can get Stu to talk to him.”

“No! No. I'm just a little down this week. Forget I said anything. And don't say anything to Stu. If it gets back to Michael, he'll just get mad at me for bad-mouthing him to his friends.”

“He
is
a case. Why don't you come stay with us for a few days? Maybe he'll see what he's missing and change his tune.”

“Thanks, but I'll be fine. Though I'm beginning to think either the job or Michael has to go; I can't seem to handle them both anymore.”

“You're not thinking of leaving until Leila's adoption is complete, are you?”

“It could take years at this rate, but no. I'll try to hang in there. I'm not their caseworker any longer, but at least if I stay, I'll have access to files and info. I'm taking her to see a lawyer I know on Monday. A real barracuda. Excellent track record. Takes no prisoners.”

Karen cut her a sharp look. “She doesn't sound very nice.”

“She isn't. But she cares more about the children than the wishes of the bio or the adoptive parents. As it should be. If she takes Sarah's case, we'll have a good chance of winning.”

“Do you think she'll take the case?”

“If she has space on her docket, yes. Carmen has relapsed more times than I care to count, every time a new man or even an old one enters her sphere. She just can't say no to any of it. I don't see much hope, but we have to get her to try. If Ilona Cartwright has any inkling that Carmen will slide, she'll have no compunction about bringing out the big guns.”

Karen winced. “It sounds a bit harsh.”

“Really, Karen, reality is harsh. But we have to try to save
lives. Now if we could just promise them their new lives will be better than their old . . .”

“Well, Leila's will be.”

“Yes, but for every Leila there are hundreds—” She broke off. “Sorry, didn't mean to preach. That's the other reason I'm thinking about changing careers. Half the time when I open my mouth, I sound like a public service announcement.”

“You do necessary work.”

“Yeah, I do.” Reesa just thought maybe it was time to turn it over to someone else to do.

I
T WAS MIDNIGHT
and Sarah sat on the porch steps, alone. Leila was asleep, Wyatt had gone home half an hour ago. And here she sat, nursing her second glass of cabernet wondering why she hadn't asked him to stay.

Stupid question. He'd picked up the signs, the glances toward Leila's room, the fidgeting. He was getting so good at picking up cues from her that he'd be heading for the door before she even realized she was doing it. And he'd be gone before she could say, “Don't go.”

She missed him already. They'd made plans to see each other the next day, but it wasn't the same as waking up with someone you were glad to wake up to. They'd had those times, before Sam got sick, before Leila had come to stay. But Sarah never seemed to be able to multilove. She and Wyatt were good until Sam needed her more.

After Sam died, she gave her love to Wyatt, until Leila came, and even after that until they had started shuttling Leila back and forth from Carmen to Sarah. Each time she returned, Leila would shrink from Wyatt, and Sarah would know Carmen had a man at home who wasn't treating Leila right.

She looked for signs of abuse and fortunately found none. But it didn't keep Sarah from worrying. She knew firsthand how things went. So instead of helping Leila to accept Wyatt, to trust that he would never hurt her, Sarah removed him from the picture.

Now, with Leila's adoption imminent, she wanted to keep them both, but she felt like she was trying to corral soap bubbles most of the time.

So she sat on the steps alone with her cabernet.
Cabernet.
What a hoot; Sarah Hargreave lived long enough to move from strawberry wine and marijuana to cabernet and a medium-rare steak.

She had Sam to thank for that, too.

At fifteen, she'd been hell on wheels until one night she watched a fellow user choke to death. Stood there and couldn't help. And she saw her mother, and herself. And she stepped away. Sobered up.

And became totally obnoxious.

She'd been so afraid of becoming a drug addict and alcoholic, dependent like her mother, that she'd been rigid, and so afraid of losing Sam, that she attacked him for enjoying a glass of wine at night and the occasional cigar.

Sarah blushed hot with remorse at the invectives she'd hurled at him. He took it all, sometimes laughing, sometimes reassuring her, sometimes telling her to bug off. He just let it roll off and kept doing what he was doing.

But sometimes looking back she wondered if she had really hurt him, and she would send him a prayer—on the outside chance there really was a heaven—and tell him she was sorry and that she loved him and . . . and all sorts of things.