The Time Between (25 page)

“Eleanor?”

Finn stood by my desk where Kay had been. “Can I see you in my office, please? Kay can keep an eye on Gigi.”

Kay was already walking toward us, her hand outstretched. “I’ll take her to the kitchen to see if we can find some milk to wash down that candy bar.”

“Organic, if you can find it,” Finn called out to her.

He motioned for me to go ahead of him, then indicated one of the chairs opposite his desk. He remained standing. “Do you have anything pressing this afternoon?” he asked.

“No. Actually, I’m pretty caught up. I do have a lunch date with Lucy in accounting, but if you need me to watch Gigi . . .”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to impose on your position here any more than I already have. But I would like to ask a favor.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Gigi needs to have more fun. Personally, I can’t imagine there’s too much fun in French immersion camps and the like. I was hoping that maybe you and I could take her down to Edisto this afternoon to go kayaking. She’s never been. Since you grew up there, I’m assuming you know the creeks pretty well.”

“Yes, of course. And I’d love to, but you only need one person to paddle a kayak. You wouldn’t really need me.” I wasn’t sure why I was trying to talk him out of his invitation, because my heart had jumped at his first mention of kayaking.

“Well.” He paused. “That’s the problem. I’ve never been. Not once. And despite summers spent on Edisto, if you put me in a kayak and told me to paddle, you’d never see us again.”

I remembered once more the lonely little boy with the paper airplanes, and despite all the reasons I could think of why I should not be spending so much time with Finn Beaufain, I couldn’t make myself say no.

“I suppose I could. I left a bathing suit and shorts at the house, so I wouldn’t need to go home to change first, and if it’s okay with your aunt, maybe I’ll spend the night since tomorrow is Saturday.” I paused. “You do have a kayak, right?”

“Two. They’re in the shed. They’ve never been used. Aunt Bernadett gave them to me on my twelfth birthday, but my father insisted that he accompany me when I went.”

“Why two?”

“So I could invite friends to go with me.”

I had no response to that at all.

“If they’ve been stored in a covered shed all these years, they should still be seaworthy. If they sink, we can just swim to shore.”

He gave me that blank look again that strongly resembled his daughter’s when I’d been explaining the vagaries of human nature to her. I stared at him in astonishment. “You don’t know how to swim?”

“I was never given the opportunity when I was a boy, and when I got older it was too embarrassing to admit to anybody. I just stayed out of the water. Gigi took lessons when she was a baby, but we had to stop when . . .”

He didn’t finish because he didn’t need to.

I thought for a moment. “I’m really not comfortable going with two nonswimmers. But if I suggest bringing another experienced kayaker, we could take both kayaks.”

“Do you know somebody you could ask?”

“Yes. But I’m going to have to pull some strings to get her excused from work.” I smiled up at him while he stared back at me, confused. “Lucy Coakley in accounting. I’m sure she’d love to play hooky for a day.”

He was already reaching for his phone, his movements more relaxed and almost boy-like. It seemed that the little boy still lived inside the man, waiting for the right moment to reappear.

After a brief conversation with Rich Kobylt in human resources, he hung up the phone. “She’ll be on her way shortly. In the meantime, I believe you wanted to speak with me?”

I remembered the silver box, still lying wrapped inside my purse, and felt a stirring of guilt. “How did you know?”

He leaned against his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. “I saw you watching me.”

He said nothing more but continued to regard me with his dark gray eyes. Eager to hide from his scrutiny, I said, “I have something to show you. I’ll be right back.”

I grabbed the box right away but pretended to rummage under my desk for an extra moment until I composed myself. I walked calmly back to his office and placed the wrapped box on the desk in front of him.

“Gigi found it in one of the sweetgrass baskets while looking for Bernadett’s sheet music.”

I held my breath, praying that he wouldn’t ask for specifics. I’d already told Gigi that I was going to show her father the box and that I would tell the truth about exactly
where
she’d found it if he asked.

“What is it?” he asked, slowly unwrapping it.

I released my breath. “It’s a box with a rosary inside.”

The cloth fell to the desk. Finn lifted the lid and looked inside briefly before examining the lid again. “This is Hungarian,” he said, indicating the inscription on top.

“I figured as much. I was hoping you could tell me what it says.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

I wasn’t really sure except that I’d found it in the same basket with the Bible and its marked verse and the photograph of the boy soldier. I wanted to know why they were all saved together. And by whom. “Just curious, I guess.”

He lowered his gaze to examine the inscription again. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

I reached for the box, flustered. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being nosy. I’ll just put it back where we found it.”

He held the box beyond my grasp. “Why didn’t you show this to Helena? Her Hungarian is much better than mine.”

His eyes stared steadily into mine, and I knew I needed to be as honest as I could. “Because she’s more fragile than she’d like us to believe. There’s something in her past that won’t let her go. I didn’t know if this would press on an old bruise or not, so I thought I’d ask you first. If you’ll give it back to me, I’ll go put it where I found it and forget about it.”

He gave me a look that told me he didn’t believe that last part any more than I did. “One of the words is ‘daughters.’ I have no idea what the rest is. But I could find out, if you like. Without telling Helena.”

I took a deep breath, pleased at having somehow managed to solicit Finn’s help without getting Gigi into trouble. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

I looked up to see Lucy walking toward us from the reception area, her forehead creased. I was glad I hadn’t brought my cell phone into Finn’s office with me, as I was sure she’d called me fifty times before making her way across the building.

I stood and smiled at Lucy to reassure her while I spoke to Finn. “Lucy’s going to have to know that you don’t know how to swim. Are you okay with that?”

A deep chuckle came from his throat, surprising me. “Should I be ashamed?”

Turning to face him, I said, “No, but your father should. And maybe even your aunt Helena. It’s time we set this right.”

The light appeared in his eyes, and I saw that boy on the riverbank again, tossing his paper plane high into the air, hoping to catch the wind. “Be gentle with me,” he said.

My face flamed just as Lucy reached Finn’s office, making her give me a wide-eyed look that was something between confusion and amusement.

As Finn explained to Lucy what he wanted to do, my mind wandered back to the rivers and creeks of my childhood, my heart lightening. Before we left the office, Finn took the silver box and rewrapped it, then placed it in his briefcase. Thoughts of the unknown engraving and its connection to a lonely, bitter woman followed me out into the Charleston sunshine.

Eleanor

L
ucy and I walked down the dock at Luna Point holding the four life jackets we’d borrowed from various Coakley relatives, including one small enough for Gigi. Finn and his daughter waited at the end of the dock next to the two kayaks, both in mint condition despite being two decades old. Finn wore shorts and dock shoes, a baseball hat and sunglasses. Gigi had on a similar outfit, but in varying shades of pink. Even her dock shoes were pink patent leather.

“That man is
fine
,” Lucy said under her breath.

Despite the fact that I’d been thinking the same thing, I turned to her. “He’s our
boss
. Please try and remember that. Besides, you’ve spent a lot of time warning me away from him.”

“That’s before I saw how much he loves his little girl. Any man that can love a child like that is good people.”

“That’s all well and good, but I’m not interested in any kind of relationship with Finn Beaufain other than boss-employee.”

“Um-hmm,” she said. I didn’t look at her because I knew she was doing her chin-wag thing that punctuated all of her arguments.

Gigi jumped up and down when she saw us, and Finn smiled, doing nothing to lessen Lucy’s original assessment. Lucy handed him the small jacket intended for Gigi and he knelt in front of his daughter to put it on her.

“Thanks again, Lucy, for doing this,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me, Mr. Beaufain. It’s not every day I get an extra paid vacation day so I can go kayaking in Edisto. If I was talking to anybody but you, I’d say something was very wrong here.” She moved closer to where Finn was trying to fasten Gigi’s jacket. “Maybe you better let me do that. This is a life jacket, not a straitjacket. The clips go in the front.”

Finn stepped back, his hands thrown up in surrender, surprising us with a loud laugh. Even Gigi seemed unfamiliar with such a sound coming from her father. “You’re the expert here, so whatever you say.”

Without looking up, Lucy said, “Eleanor, why don’t you help Mr. Beaufain with his jacket?”

I stared hard at her, but she wouldn’t look up at me. I waited for Finn to protest, but when he said nothing, I knew I had no choice. I picked up one of the adult life jackets and held it up. “I’m guessing you can figure out where your arms go?”

“I might,” he said, grinning as he turned his back to me to slip both arms into the jacket. Facing me again, he said, “But I might need help fastening it.”

My cheeks heated as I moved to stand directly in front of him, close enough that I could smell his aftershave and the scent of his skin. I resisted the urge to breathe in deeply and instead focused on tightening the straps and fastening the clips without meeting his eyes.

“Are you sure they’re tight enough?” he asked.

I looked up into dark gray eyes that seemed to be laughing at me.

Without evading his gaze, I said, “If they’re not, I guess we’ll find out when you go overboard.”

After Lucy and I put on our own jackets, we turned our attention to the kayaks and put the first one in the water. I was about to suggest that I go with Gigi when Finn said, “I’d like Gigi to go with the better swimmer, if that’s okay.”

“That would be me,” Lucy said without any hint of the broad lie she’d just uttered. I glared at Lucy, but she just smiled innocently back at me. We were both strong swimmers, but there’d never been a race I’d allowed her to win, and I could always swim farther and longer than any of our friends.

“That settles it, then,” Finn said. “Thank you, Lucy.”

Lucy ignored me as she stepped into the first kayak while I held on to it. Then I lifted Gigi to put her on the board in front of Lucy, feeling surprised again at how light she was. The little girl grinned up at me, her pink sunglasses reflecting the sun. I reached over to wipe a smear of sunscreen off her nose, then handed her her paddle. “Remember to scoop and pull just like I showed you, and Lucy likes it when you just skim the surface of the water and throw the water in her face with the paddle.”

Without waiting to see Lucy’s reaction, I moved up on the dock, where Finn had already placed our kayak in the water. “Our turn,” he said with a broad grin, and I wondered if he and Lucy were somehow in cahoots.

“You go first,” I said. “Just go slowly—step into the middle, then sit down quickly in the rear seat. Try to keep a low center of gravity so it won’t rock too much.”

“What happens if I rock it too much?” His voice was innocent, but he couldn’t hide his boyish grin.

“Then you’ll go overboard and we’ll find out if I did a good enough job fastening your life jacket.”

Squatting and placing a hand on the dock while I held on to the kayak, he stepped in with an athlete’s grace, as if he’d done it hundreds of times before, and sat down, barely moving the kayak.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” I asked.

He held up three fingers. “Never. Scout’s honor.”

“You were a Boy Scout?”

“Just for a couple of years. Until the first camping trip and my father wouldn’t allow me to go. I figured there was no point in being a Scout unless I was allowed to commune with nature.”

His voice had a wistfulness to it, reminding me of the sound of the migrating birds in the fall, their mournful call always making me think they were begging to remain.

“Well,” I said, settling myself into the kayak, “I suppose it’s never too late to learn.”

He stretched his legs out on either side of me, and I deliberately focused my attention on my paddle so I wouldn’t have to think about how close they were, or how close Finn sat behind me.

“Do you need instructions on how to paddle?” I asked without turning around.

“I think I can manage,” he said, giving a deep shove with his paddle, propelling us into the waters of Steamboat Creek.

“Go left,” I shouted so Lucy could hear. “Let’s head to Russell Creek.”

I turned to watch Lucy struggling to navigate the two-person kayak as Gigi valiantly tried to help. I didn’t hide my laugh as Gigi swept her paddle over the surface of the water in a near-perfect trajectory toward Lucy’s head. Their kayak pulled up beside ours and Lucy shook her head, showering all of us with the water and making Gigi squeal with delight.

I felt a surge of power as Finn began paddling. “Aren’t you going to help?” he asked.

Lifting my paddle out of the water and laying it across the kayak, I said, “Apparently I don’t need to. Especially since Lucy’s struggling to keep up.”

Lucy, her hair and face drenched, was indeed struggling to keep up with our kayak. Feeling no pity for my friend, who’d rigged the seating arrangement and was responsible for the fact that Finn’s legs were now pressed against mine, I shouted, “Let’s race!”

She glared at me as Finn and I pulled forward, easily leaving them behind. My muscles moved beneath my skin as I dug my paddle into each side, imagining my father behind me as the wind kissed my face. I looked around me as we approached Russell Creek and slowed down, waiting for Lucy and Gigi to catch up. Nothing had changed in this corner of the world. The view from the creek—of the docks and houses and approaching marshes—had not changed; the sun still hung in the same sky. If I didn’t look down to see my longer legs and the jagged scar on my finger, I could almost imagine I was thirteen years old again, racing the tide through the creeks and marshes with Eve and Lucy.

I breathed in deeply, smelling the familiar scent of the marsh, the scent that always reminded me of home. I wanted so badly to believe that I was that same thirteen-year-old girl with dreams of Juilliard who did not yet know grief.

“What are you thinking about?”

Finn’s voice brought me back to the present. I looked behind me, my surprised expression reflected in his sunglasses. Still lost in my thoughts, I didn’t take the time to filter my response. “My childhood. How absolutely happy I once was.”

We’d both lifted our oars from the water, and we allowed ourselves to rock on the current. “And you’re not anymore?”

I opened my mouth to reply, realizing that I didn’t know what to say. The answer should have been easy. I considered my life over the last few months, the months since I’d met Helena and Gigi. I wasn’t even sure if I’d been
unhappy
before; I just knew that something had changed.

“Yes. No. I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it in a very long time.”

We watched as a great egret settled on the creek bank, its eyes regally surveying its domain as its ancestors had probably done for hundreds of years. Finn spoke softly, his words brushing the back of my neck. “I’ve found that you can’t measure happiness the way you measure yards in a race. You just learn to recognize it when it arrives so you can enjoy it while it lasts.”

I looked down at my hands as they gripped the paddle, my knuckles white, and wondered why his words made me so angry, why I found myself wishing someone had thought to teach them to me before my years of aimless wanting. I had a brief flash of memory, of me lying faceup on Westcott Road, while words I still did not understand were whispered in my ear. I felt unsettled, as if I’d just stepped on an escalator that had suddenly stopped.

Desperate to lighten my mood, I asked, “Did Gigi teach you that, or did you come up with it all by yourself?”

He chuckled, and I felt the rumbling in my own chest. “I figured it out because of her, but, no, the words are my own.”

I wanted to see his face but was glad he couldn’t see mine. Lucy and Gigi’s kayak was slowly approaching, and Gigi’s high voice carried like musical notes on the breeze. “Is she going to be okay?” I asked quietly, wondering where the words had come from.

“We don’t know. Four years of remission is great; five years will be even better. But it can still come back at any time, even in adulthood, as the same cancer or a different one. Or not at all.”

“Does she know?” I could hear Gigi’s giggle as she splashed Lucy again, and then more laughter as she tried to apologize.

“Yes. She asked me and I felt I owed it to her to tell her the truth.”

Their kayak pulled up alongside ours just as the giant egret spread its wide wings and flew over us, its long, yellow beak leading the way. Gigi tilted her head back and stared at it, her mouth open in awe. She watched it until it had made its way across the creek, soaring over the marsh grass until it disappeared from sight.

“Did you see that, Ellie? Wasn’t it beautiful?”

I was about to tell her that I’d seen millions of egrets, so many that I barely noticed them anymore. But then I realized that she’d probably seen a few, too, but was still mesmerized by their grace and beauty.

“Yes, Gigi. It was beautiful. It’s a great egret, did you know that?”

She shook her head.

“It’s part of the heron family and is the biggest. They’re very brave. Sometimes you can find them perched on top of alligators.”

Her mouth formed a perfect O. “Really?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“And Eleanor would probably do the same thing,” Lucy interjected, her face, hair, and shirt completely soaked.

“Did you fall in and not tell us?” I asked, eager to deflect where I was sure Lucy was trying to turn the conversation.

“What do you mean?” Gigi asked.

“This girl was fearless. Once, when she was mad at her sister, she hid under the kayak until Eve and her boyfriend got in—I swear Eleanor held her breath for five whole minutes, and who knows what else was swimming with her in the creek—and then she flipped it.”

I felt Finn’s gaze on me, but I didn’t look behind me.

“I was young and not very bright at the time.”

Lucy snorted. “What about all those other times? Like when you tried to make your own bungee cord out of rope and jump off the new Dawho Bridge? Thank goodness I told my daddy and he put a stop to it. You would have yanked your whole leg off. Or worse.”

I glared at Lucy, willing her to stop, but she appeared to be enjoying herself.

“And remember all those red ants you collected to put in Mrs. Anderson’s desk on Friday morning so we could have a long weekend?”

“Really, Lucy, I don’t think you dredging up my past is something Mr. Beaufain or Gigi needs to hear.”

“I disagree,” Finn said from behind me, and I heard the smile in his voice. “We really had no idea about the real Eleanor Murray.”

Lucy slowly moved her head from side to side. “Um-hmm-hmm. That girl was like a cat with nine lives. I think she’s used about eight of them by now.”

I dug my paddle into the water and pulled hard. “Come on—let’s go see if we can find a dolphin.”

“Or maybe an alligator,” Finn said from behind me as he joined his paddling with mine, the sound of splashing water mixing with his soft laughter. “I’d like to see Eleanor trying to perch on top of it.”

We spent about two hours on the water, returning to the dock at Luna Point only when Finn thought Gigi was getting too fatigued and despite her adamant protests. Lucy and Gigi were desperate to use the bathroom, so Finn and I were left with bringing the kayaks out of the water and laying them out on the dock to dry.

“That was fun. Thank you,” Finn said when we were finished.

Never easy with compliments, I fumbled with the life jackets, spreading them wider on the dock so they looked like bright orange birds in flight. “I had fun, too. But you really need to thank Lucy. We couldn’t have done it without her.”

He didn’t say anything, and I was forced to look up at him. He was grinning broadly. “So all those things Lucy said about you—were they true?”

I grimaced. “Guilty as charged.”

“I never would have suspected.” His smile faded. “What changed? Your father’s death?”

I hugged my arms around me and breathed in the scent of sun-heated marsh grass. “No. I was always a little hellion—since I could walk, I’m told. I’m guessing it was to gain some attention from my mother. It got worse after my daddy died. I just remember . . .” I stopped, not really sure I understood what I wanted to say.

“You remember what?”

His eyes met mine, calming me, and my thoughts became clear. “I was numb. My daddy was gone, and I couldn’t play the piano anymore. I felt so desperate just to . . . feel. It was almost as if physical pain was all that could shake me out of my stupor.”