Rocky Point Reunion (7 page)

Sometimes she felt a touch of envy for those friends who had loving husbands and rambunctious children.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. The Lord would provide her a partner in His own good time. If that was His will. Some women never married. She hoped she wasn't one. She really did want children. And her dad would love a grandson to teach to fish!

It was just after nine when she gathered a folder and her purse. She was going to give a new lobster distributor in Portland a chance to work with her and had scheduled an interview at their offices later this morning.

The road to Portland wound through the forest with glimpses of the sea from time to time. She had chosen the highway for the scenic views rather than the speed the interstate would have given her. She was in no particular hurry and relished this time to herself. Her manager was in charge at the restaurant and could handle any emergency. It was almost like a holiday.

The meeting went well and once finished, Marcie decided to eat lunch at one of the restaurants in the Old Port section of Portland. The meal was delightful and she wondered if the Cabot sisters could add another entrée to the menu.

It was early afternoon when she headed back. Once the traffic from Portland thinned, she sped up a bit. Passing one car, she looked in her rearview mirror in surprise. It was her father. He was going the same way she was—away from Portland and toward Rocky Point.

Had he been in Portland again? Why?

Another car passed her father and came in behind her.
She considered the idea of slowing down and then letting her father pass her so she could follow him home. But before she could act on that, he turned off. Puzzled, Marcie continued home. She'd call her dad later to see what was going on.

But, though she tried every half hour all evening long, her father didn't answer. Finally after nine, really concerned, she drove over to her childhood home to check on him. It was dark. His car was not in the carport. Where was he?

She parked and wrote a short note asking him to call her when he got home, then opened the front door and put it prominently on the table where he kept his car keys. He must have made plans that she didn't know about. Not that she should. When she'd moved from home, she'd wanted her own privacy and her dad was entitled to his.

The next morning just before the lunch rush began, her father called.

“Went fishing with some friends,” he said.

“I saw you on the highway yesterday and then you turned off. You were coming from Portland,” she said.

“I missed the turn going up, had to turn around and go back down. Didn't catch anything, either.”

She smiled at the disgruntled tone. “Can't catch something every time. I just wondered since I couldn't reach you at home last night.”

“A man should not have his daughter watching him every moment.”

Marcie laughed. “Like it's every moment. If I hadn't seen you on the highway near Portland I would never have known. I was surprised to see you, that's all.”

“What were you doing in Portland?” he asked. “I didn't know you were going up.”

Marcie explained. They chatted a few minutes, then
hung up. She needed to see more of her father. Maybe they could have lunch together after church Sunday. He rarely missed church services. She was worried about him. He was all the family she had. Time to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

 

Sunday Marcie dressed in a light blue suit, growing more nervous as the time for church approached. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. “I can do all things through you, Lord,” she told herself. “Even meeting Zack again in front of everyone at church. Each time I see him, it will become easier.” If he even showed up. So far since he'd returned, he had not attended church. Trinity was her church—and the place they were to have exchanged vows ten years ago. Many members of the congregation had been invited to the wedding. She knew they would be remembering. As she would yet again. For the past few years, except for attending other weddings, she'd been able to push away the memory of her own special day. Now that Zack was back, it came to the forefront every time she entered the church.

Turning, she didn't feel her pep talk had soothed that much, but it was the best she could do. Gathering her purse and Bible, she headed out. She and her father usually sat together in church, neither having a partner in life's journey.

Puffy clouds doted the expansive blue sky as she walked the few blocks to the church. Parking was never a problem in the church lot, but whenever the weather was nice, she preferred to walk. The breeze from the sea held the tang of salt she loved. Today felt fresh and clean. “Today is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it,” she recited as she approached the white clapboard church
with its traditional steeple. She recognized everyone she saw, greeting those close enough.

Her father stood near the double doors, watching for her. He smiled when he saw her. He did look older. And thinner. Was there something wrong, or was it a reality check? He was no longer a young man.

“Good morning, cupcake. You look fresh and happy.”

“It's a beautiful day. Not fishing today?”

He shook his head. “Want to take my best girl out for lunch.”

“We could drive down to Kennebecport,” she suggested.

“Sounds good. See you after Bible study.”

Marcie almost held her breath when she entered the church sanctuary later. She had not seen a sign of Zack or Jenny. Maybe he had not brought the little girl after all, though Jenny loved Sunday school. If Zack didn't bring her, maybe Marcie could offer for next week. No, Joe and Gillian would be back by then. They never missed.

But Zack often had. Maybe he
was
the same Zack Kincaid, after all, she thought with a sigh of relief, tinged with disappointment.

 

Zack and Jenny entered the back of the sanctuary. The place was almost full. Thankfully, he found an empty spot in the next to the last row and ushered Jenny in. He had only wanted to drop her off at church with a promise to pick her up afterward. But she'd insisted they attend together.

“We always sit up front with Aunt Marcie,” she said, scooting in and looking around.

“This is fine,” he said, sitting on the wooden pew. Glancing around, he noticed several people looking at him. He nodded and looked forward.

The man next to Jenny offered a hand to Zack. “Welcome to Trinity Church. We're glad you could join us. I'm Samuel Bowmont.”

“Zack Kincaid.” He shook hands, and then nodded to the man's wife when she was introduced. At least these people didn't seem to know him or the episode that might have played out in this church.

The organist began and the chatter quieted. Zack stared straight ahead. If he didn't make eye contact with anyone, no one would speak to him. He was uncomfortable surrounded by so many people he'd known most of his life, but on whom he'd turned his back for so long. Jenny reached for a hymnal and began turning the pages. He remembered days gone by when his parents had brought Joe and him to church. And later, when he and Marcie were dating in high school, they'd sat together. He'd loved singing the different hymns. Singing had been the best part of the service when he'd been younger.

His gaze found Marcie. She was sitting next to her dad near the front. His throat tightened as he gazed at the back of her head. So many memories and regrets.

The music changed slightly and people rose to their feet. He stood and stared at the hymnal Jenny shared with him. She already had the correct page number.

Feeling awkward after having shunned church for so many years, nevertheless he began singing the familiar hymn. The words remembered, the melody returned.

It felt odd to be in the church he'd grown up in. He couldn't help thinking about the day he was supposed to marry Marcie. The church had been decorated with flowers, white roses and some small white flower and lots of green. They'd had the rehearsal, Zack's fear building. Then the fateful call had come earlier that week. He'd wrestled
with his decision for days, finally deciding the night before to take the opportunity Claude had offered.

He'd known it was wrong to leave like that. But he couldn't stay. The lure of a racing future had proved too strong. The opportunity had been amazing. Who else would have been called from obscurity to be given a chance to make a name for himself in the racing world?

Now he wondered how she'd managed to come into this church Sunday after Sunday, remembering how they'd decorated it. Did she attend other weddings? Did she always remember?

How could she not?

Joe and Gillian would be married here in September. Once again the old building would be decorated for a beautiful bride. Vows would be exchanged. Happiness was never guaranteed, but he had a feeling it would permeate his brother's marriage.

Look at him. He'd taken the opportunity of a lifetime and for years had been consumed with the racing, the fame, the money. Yet it all seemed shallow and unimportant when faced with dying young like his friend. No wife mourned Jacques. No children carried on the family name. Only his parents and friends remained to keep the memory of his life alive.

Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth.
The old verse popped into mind. He'd done just that. So had Jacques. What good had it done either of them?

The service seemed interminable. He was uncomfortable with his thoughts. He glanced at his watch a half-dozen times. Minutes had never moved so slowly. Finally—the last hymn.

When the music ended, he took Jenny's hand and hurried her from the pew and out the double doors.

“Where are we going?” she asked, clutching her Bible and almost running to keep up with his longer stride.

“Home. We'll barbecue and maybe go down to the beach.”

“Yippee. I haven't been so far this year.”

“I know, you've said it a dozen times a day since Memorial Day.”

“That's when summer starts and Daddy says we can only go swimming in summer.”

He smiled at her. “And then only if it's warm enough. Which it is not today. But we can walk along the shore in the cove.”

They were in the truck and heading out of the parking lot when he spotted Marcie and her dad walking toward Bill's car. She recognized Zack's truck and waved—probably at Jenny. Bill Winter glared at him, his anger almost palpable through the windshield. He wasn't accepting Zack's apology even if Zack could get Marcie to do so.

He refused to become discouraged. He knew what he wanted now and sooner or later would figure out a way to get it.

In the meantime, he would enjoy his time with his niece.

“How about we stop and pick up a picnic lunch and have that on the beach?” he asked.

“Okay!” Jenny's enthusiastic response made him smile. Too bad there wasn't someone else with them to share the moment.

 

That afternoon Zack sat in a growing patch of shade watching Jenny play along the water's edge. He and his brother had spent many hours at the beach with his parents when they were younger, and then just the two of them when they were deemed old enough to stay safe. He
and Marcie had also shared the beach when they were in high school. The days had been fun, swimming in the cold water, warming up in the sun, talking about their future. Carefree and happy, just as childhood should be.

He'd been to the beach in Cannes, on the Costa Blanca in Spain and along the Italian Riviera. The Med was definitely warmer. But here, surrounded by the rocky bluffs behind him, the small sandy spot was home.

“Can we walk again, Uncle Zack?” Jenny asked, running over to him. She'd made a basic sand castle and left it to the incoming tide that would sweep it away.

“We can.” He made sure the remnants of the picnic were stowed safely above the high-water mark and took her hand to walk along the water. They had taken off their shoes and splashed in the cold Atlantic. He wondered if he was too old to enjoy swimming later in the summer. The water hadn't seemed as cold when he was a child.

“Tell me about you and daddy playing here,” she said.

Zack had discovered soon after he had returned to Rocky Point that Jenny loved hearing any stories he had to tell about her father when he was little. It gave Zack an odd sense of continuity. One generation passing on stories to the next. Would his own children like to hear about his life when he was a child?

Would
he have children one day or was he destined to go it alone?

The beach was entirely in shade by the time they decided to return to the house on the bluff above them. Zack carried the sack that held the trash from lunch, while Jenny carried her shoes and ran up the wooden steps. When he reached the top she was halfway to the house.

She turned and yelled, “The phone's ringing,” and then resumed her race to the house. Zack followed quickly. It was early yet for Joe and Gillian to be calling. But it was
Sunday—maybe they'd decided to stop early for the day. He couldn't imagine anyone else calling.

“It's for you, Uncle Zack,” Jenny said when he entered the kitchen. The phone receiver had been laid on the counter.

“Thanks, Jenny. Go rinse off the sand and salt water,” he said, putting down the bag and reaching for the phone. “Kincaid,” he said.

“Hey, Zack, Thomas Sterling here. How's it going, guy?” Thomas was the team leader and chief liaison with their major sponsor.

Zack almost groaned when he heard Thomas on the line. He was trying to put that part of his life behind him. “I'm doing well, how're things with you?”

“Not so good, Zack. We need you back. How's your brother?”

“I told you before, I'm bowing out. I'm needed here.” He'd met opposition, but he'd been clear he was pulling out of racing. Joe's burned hands were the perfect excuse to break away, and he had no desire to return.