Seaside Reunion (6 page)

The boy trailed after her, stopping as he reached a shelving unit that would hide him from Nate’s view once he passed. “Thank you.”

Nate smiled at him. “You’re welcome. Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime.”

He didn’t get an answering smile. Or a response. But that was okay. Kids like that just needed to know someone had noticed them. And cared. He might not be able to fix whatever problems plagued Jarrod’s young life, but he could at least offer that much.

Before he left the Mercantile today, though, he’d see what he could find out about the boy’s background.

And hope Lindsey would share more of Jarrod’s story than she’d been willing to share of her own.

Chapter Four

“I
s this stuff any good, Lindsey?” Janice wandered over to the check-out counter with a bottle of an all-natural beverage.

“You want the truth, one town council member to another?”

Janice grinned. “Yeah.”

“To me, it tastes like medicine. But a lot of the cyclists who stop in ask for it, so we started to stock it.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. Think I’ll pass. Give me two of those ginger cookies instead.”

“Smart choice.”

At Nate’s comment, Lindsey looked toward the coffee nook to find him strolling toward them. Too bad her father had gone home for lunch and a nap. Otherwise, she’d have found some excuse to leave the Mercantile in his hands for a couple of hours. Because for whatever reason, Nate made her nervous.

“Take the word of someone who’s already sampled one and intends to buy another.” He joined them at the counter as he finished his endorsement.

Lindsey’s pulse gave a sudden blip as the scent of his subtle aftershave wafted toward her. How weird was that?

“Sold. Ring me up two, Lindsey.”

“And one more for me,” Nate added.

She left them to their small talk as she took care of their orders, trying to ignore her misbehaving heart—and what it implied. She was not attracted to this man. No way.

When Janice left, Nate claimed her spot directly across the counter, took the bag Lindsey offered and counted out his money. “So what gives with Jarrod?”

“What do you mean?”

“He has sad eyes.”

The man had impressive observation skills. Then again, maybe that was essential for journalists.

She opened the cash drawer and put the money in the correct slots. “His father died a few months ago of a massive heart attack. Since then, Jarrod’s grades have been slipping. I’m making progress with his math. Not so much with his reading and composition.”

“Has he had any counseling?”

“His mother took him for a while. But no one’s been able to rekindle his interest in school.” She handed him his change, taking care not to touch his fingers as she dropped the coins into his large palm.

“That’s a shame. He seems like a nice kid. But his situation is a recipe for wasted potential.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“I wish you luck.” He picked up the bag. “With that, and with The Point. Your dad told me what happened last night.”

“There are a lot of people in this town who will fight to save it.”

“But money talks.”

“Not always.”

“Usually it triumphs over sentiment. My guess is it’s a lost cause.”

Her hackles rose at his cavalier response, and somewhere deep inside, Lindsey felt the stirring of an emotion that had long lain dormant.

Passion.

Not the kind she’d felt for Mark. That, she suspected, was dead forever. This was the kind of passion that had once animated her life and made her believe anything was possible, even when the odds were against her.

She gripped the edge of the counter and locked gazes with him. “That’s a very negative attitude.”

“It’s the truth.”

“So you think I should just stand aside and let this developer destroy The Point?”

He lifted one shoulder. “You probably won’t be able to stop him, anyway. You could end up expending a lot of time and energy for nothing. It’s just a falling down church, Lindsey. And that piece of land looks like a thousand other pieces of land along the coast.”

“Then why did you come all the way back here to see it?” His shoulders stiffened, but she forged ahead despite the warning sign. “You must have feelings for the place. And some things are worth fighting for, no matter the odds. If you didn’t believe that, why else would you risk your life covering news in a war zone?”

His eyes chilled. “It’s a job. And I get paid a lot of money for doing it.”

She stared at the man across from her, who suddenly felt like a stranger all over again. “You mean you don’t care about the stories you write?”

He gave a taut shrug. “I care about the quality of my work. I won’t turn in a shoddy piece.”

“I’m not talking about grammar and punctuation and style rules. I’m talking about the impact your stories have on people’s lives. And on public opinion.”

The smile he gave her held no humor. “I’m not famous. Any impact I have is fleeting. One day my articles are in the paper, the next day that paper’s lining a birdcage. What I write doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things.”

“Wow.” She blinked. Was there anything left of the sensitive little boy she’d once known? “That’s pretty cynical.”

“I prefer the term realistic.”

“If you don’t think it matters, why do you do it?”

His lips flattened. “I happen to have a talent for writing. And it’s a way to make a living.”

“There are safer ways.”

“Maybe I like the excitement.”

“People don’t put their lives on the line in battle zones for the sake of excitement. There must be some other reason.”

He picked up the bag with the cookie. “Thanks for this.”

End of conversation.

And she couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t come in here to be badgered. Who was she to call him to task, when she’d done little more than drift from day to day for the past three years?

As he turned away, she took a deep breath. “Nate…”

He hesitated. Angled back.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Look, I don’t have any right to judge your choices. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“You didn’t.” The rigid line of his shoulders belied his words.

Gripping her upper arms, she studied him. When she spoke again, her quiet words seemed to surprise him as much as they did her. “So what happened to that softhearted little boy named Nathaniel I once knew?”

A muscle twitched in his cheek, and the sudden bleakness in his expression tightened her throat. “He grew up. And discovered it’s a lot wiser to be tough than soft.”

With that, he retreated to the coffee nook.

Thrown off guard by his candor, she had no idea how to respond.

Sixty seconds later, he reappeared, computer in one hand, cookie bag in the other. He nodded at her as he opened the door, but he didn’t speak.

The bell jingled behind him, and she shifted around to watch him drive away. When at last she lost sight of his car, she sank onto the stool her father used, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Regretting her critical comments.

And wondering if she’d ever see him again.

This trip wasn’t turning out anything like he’d hoped.

Kicking a rock out of his path, Nate approached the chain that blocked access to The Point, vaulted over it and set off down the gravel road.

To be fair, he wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to find here. A sense of peace, maybe. Answers. Welcome.

Home.

The welcome had been extended. But everything else had been elusive.

And he’d probably shot himself in the foot back there with Lindsey a little while ago. The shock on her face at his cynicism had been like a kick in the gut.

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, and Nate checked the sky. Dark clouds had moved in while he’d dumped his computer at the Orchid and called to check in at the
Tribune
. Fitting, considering his mood.

He covered the distance to the cliffs in record time, uncertain why he’d made the trek. The overgrown grounds and decaying chapel were one more reminder things had changed. That whatever happiness he’d once found here was as ephemeral as the mist rising from the crashing waves below.

The place was deserted. And this time, the bench was, too.

As he rounded the chapel and paused to look at the seat, he could picture the younger Lindsey sitting there the day they’d met, hair in two braids, binoculars glued to her eyes, a brown sack beside her.

She’d remained unmoving for so long he’d begun to wonder if she was a statue. And then she’d uttered an excited, “Yes!” and pumped a fist in the air.

Confused, he’d peered into the distance. But all he’d been able to see on that April day had been a vast expanse of water.

Not that he’d cared. He’d been too busy fighting back disappointment that someone had claimed his spot. The one he’d been coming to almost every day since he’d discovered it the first time he’d attended services here with his mother, two weeks before.

But just as he’d prepared to beat a quiet retreat, the girl had suddenly swung toward him, eyes shining. “Hey! You want to see the whales? There’s a whole pod of them!”

That had been the start of a beautiful, if brief, friendship.

Now, as he strolled over to the bench, Nate reached into his pocket and fingered the agate he’d found on one of their beach excursions. All these years, he’d never been without it—his one physical link to his happy months in Starfish Bay. A literal touchstone to his past.

As he ran his fingers over the smooth surface that had been polished by nature on the coarse sand of the beach below, it felt as familiar to his fingers as the keys of his laptop. He pulled it out and examined the translucent, inch-and-a-half diameter stone with its intricate white banding that created a pattern of circles, curves and wavy lines. Lindsey had told him it was a good one. She’d also told him the real beauty of agates lay inside, hidden from the world. And that it took a master cutter to reveal that beauty to its best advantage.

He’d liked that thought as a shy eleven-year-old who kept so much locked inside.

He still did.

Weighing the small stone in his hand, he drew in a lungful of the salt air. Despite what he’d told Lindsey, the plight of The Point and the chapel distressed him. If it was torn down, one more touchstone from his past would vanish forever.

Touchstone.

The word echoed in his mind.

Despite the dark clouds scuttling across the sky, Nate sat on the weathered concrete seat, the rhythm of the surf and the cry of the gulls a balm to his soul. People needed places like this to return to—or to discover for the first time. They needed links to places and peoples and things that helped define who they were, that reminded them of the experiences and relationships that had shaped them.

They needed touchstones.

Words began to form in his mind. Not the kind he usually wrote. But compelling enough to induce him to pull out the notebook and pen he always carried and jot them down.

More followed.

He kept writing.

Nate had no idea how long he scribbled in his notebook. But he’d filled quite a few pages before the first drop of rain interrupted him.

He didn’t stop, though. He couldn’t. The words gushed forth, as unstoppable as a spring deep in the earth that works its way to the surface and suddenly breaks through to the light, the clear water sparkling in the sun.

Only when the rain picked up did he at last tuck the damp notebook back into his pocket and take off at a jog for the main road, more energized than he had been in a long while. Sure, he knew how to put words together, to create a compelling story, to manipulate emotions. But the words he’d just written were different.

They’d come from the heart.

And putting them on paper had made him feel good.

By the time he reached the main road, the rain had gone from a light shower to a steady downpour. He’d be soaked before he got to the Orchid.

But his heart felt lighter than it had in years.

And it lightened even more after he stepped inside his room and found a plastic-covered plate containing two cinnamon rolls on the desk, the “Glad you’re here. Enjoy!” note signed by Genevieve.

He’d been adopted.

Nate hadn’t shown his face at the Mercantile for three days. And his car had been missing from the Orchid Motel parking lot whenever Lindsey had contrived a reason to drive by. She was beginning to think he’d gone back to Chicago.

Not that it mattered. Despite their childhood friendship, which she barely remembered, they were strangers now, with little in common. Their last conversation had convinced her of that. And he was just passing through, anyway.

Still, when she spotted Lillian pulling into the Mercantile parking lot, she decided to ask a few discreet questions.