The Beach House (20 page)

It happened on her birthday, one year ago. Cam treated friends to dinner at her favorite restaurant. The evening ended in their home. They’d scarcely begun a game of charades when Cam excused himself and went to bed. It was not unusual behavior, but for some reason it particularly stung that night.

Todd noticed. Not that he said anything. On the surface things remained even-keeled between them. He must have known, though, as she did, that their banter had taken on an edge. His recent phone conversations proved it.

A realization dawned within her. Todd Brooks wanted more than a flirting relationship.

She blinked.

What did she want? At forty, with two teenagers well on their way and a couch potato for a husband, who did not notice or seem to care whether or not she even breathed?
What did she want
?

She pursed her lips and shook her head. No, her mama would not approve at all.

Char heard a wail and opened the bathroom door just as Molly hurried past it, Jo on her heels. She followed them into the living room.

Molly strode toward the front door, her arms upraised. “This cannot be happening!”

Jo said, “I’ll come with you.”

“No!” Without a backward glance Molly pushed open the screen door and stepped outside. She was halfway to the boardwalk before it slammed shut.

Char asked, “What’s going on?”

Jo turned to face her. “The test results came back.”

Char caught her breath. Obviously Molly was upset. Would tests for menopause show something like cancer? “What is it?”

“Molly’s pregnant.”

“Oh.” Stunned, Char went to the couch and sat down. “Oh, my. She’s forty years old! With four kids already!” She herself would absolutely die. But then Molly was different. “Were they planning it?”

“From her reaction, I’d say no way.” Jo sat in an armchair.“She figured she was in menopause.”

“Where did she go?”

“A walk down the beach.”

“What should we do?”

“I don’t know. She said she needed time alone. I imagine she’ll call Scott when she calms down.”

Char recalled seeing a cell phone in Molly’s raised hand. Char’s cell phone, the one with the number that friends would soon begin calling to wish her a happy birthday.

With a sigh, Jo stood. “She’ll get used to the idea and postpone full-time teaching a little longer. I’d better get back to my calls.”

“Where’s Andie?”

“Walking to the pier. See you in a bit.” She headed down the hall.

Char glanced about the empty room. Cool, calm Molly was borderline berserk—with Char’s phone—somewhere down the beach for however long it was going to take her to get used to the idea that she was pregnant. Plump Andie—who’d been content to sit for the past fifteen years massaging feet—was off
walking
all the way to the pier after already
swimming
. Jo—who had adamantly unplugged from work—was suddenly plugged back in. Two of the three still wore their early morning attire—dreadful sweat suits not fit for public viewing. More than likely Andie still wore hers as well; Char hadn’t heard the other shower running.

And in less than an hour they were to leave for Hollywood!

Char crossed her arms.“Happy birthday to me.”

Back in April when she turned forty and realized life needed a major adjustment, Molly hit bottom. Learning she was pregnant redefined the word “bottom.”

She strode from the beach house to the seawall, quickly scaled it, and sank her feet into the sand. Like mud, it pulled at her feet, cutting her stride to an amble. Annoyed, she tucked the cell phone into a pocket, rolled up her pant legs, and yanked off her loafers. Stubbing her bare toes the entire way, she reached the packed sand at the water’s edge and turned south. Her long quick steps soon propelled her into a jog.

She knew the exact date it happened. In July. Up the Elk River. A picnic. Beneath seven-hundred-year-old trees. The nearest living mammals bear and elk.
Outdoors
, for heaven’s sake. Like two kids caught up in the passion of the moment.

They should have known better.

In their quest for recovering an old love lost somewhere between child number two and planting a church, she and Scotty worked hard at entering each other’s worlds. Never the traditional pastor’s wife, Molly did not play the piano or sing or do office work. She didn’t even visit sick people with all that much grace. He never insisted she take on tasks for which she was not especially gifted. God always brought someone forward to fill those slots. While she focused on the Sunday school and homemaking, he focused on being the pastor and breadwinner. Their paths diverged.

That day in July they hatched a plan to converge those paths in a new way. She arranged play dates for all four children and joined Scott on a forest job counting trees or some such thing. They were going to
work
and
talk
. She packed tofu sandwiches and potato chips and did not imagine it necessary to bring along anything related to birth control.

Evidently more than their paths converged.

Out of breath now, Molly slowed. Her cuffs had unrolled and were damp from dragging in the wet sand. She pushed strands of hair fallen from her ponytail back behind her ears.

In truth, she hadn’t paid much attention to birth control over the past year. Everything pointed to her body shutting down. What with that and four busy children and divergent directions, there hadn’t seemed to be a need.

Was it the stress? The stress of turning forty and feeling unfulfilled and trying to fix that? She applied for nonexistent teaching positions in the children’s district. She considered applying at another school located an hour’s drive away. An hour’s drive when there was no fog, hurricane-force winds, or road work. Then Eli’s soccer career took off, Betsy broke an arm in gymnastics, and Abigail and Hannah got strep. Molly knew she did not have an extra two to three hours in a day to spend on the road. She settled for substitute teaching.

Meanwhile, convincing Scott how desperate she was for his attention occupied the rest of her energies. It should have been a no-brainer. As a pastor who counseled married couples, he should have been a little more in tune.

He came around, of course. He loved her, and he was a godly man. In time they reconnected.

Oh, yes. Indeed they reconnected!

“Lord!” She bent forward, hands on hips, and tried to catch her breath before a sob broke loose.
Why
?

I will be fifty-eight before this one graduates from high school. Fifty-eight
!

She straightened and blew out a frustrated breath. She had to talk to Scott right now.

Maybe the test was wrong?

She pulled the cell phone from her pocket. Hands shaking, she flipped it open, and tried to remember her home number.

No, the church was more likely—

No, he was at his other job. Surveying up the Elk River. He was provided a cell phone for work, but it wouldn’t function from there.

“Curses on the Elk River! I wish it would dry up!”

She swallowed back another sob.

Maybe he hadn’t traveled too far yet. What time was it? What was his work number?

She heard a small voice coming from the cell and put it to her ear. “Scotty?”

“Scotty?” a male voice said. “Come on, sugar. I know I’m on your caller ID.”

“What? Who is this?”

“Char?”

“What?”

“Sorry. I must have the wrong number.”

As if emerging from a mental fog, she realized with sudden clarity that someone was calling Char. “No, you don’t have the wrong number. This is Char’s phone. But I’m Molly.”

“Molly! Hi!”

“Cam?”

“Nope. Todd.”

“Todd?” Char’s son wasn’t named Todd, was he?

“Friend. Char has spoken of you. Is she around?”

“Um.” She glanced at the ocean, as if it would produce the owner of the phone. A turn toward the boardwalk revealed that Molly was nowhere near the beach house and Char certainly was not in sight. “No.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Back from where? The mental fog settled in again.“Nooo.”

“Well, don’t tell her I called, all right?” He chuckled. “I want to surprise her. I’ll just catch her later. Bye.”

“Bye.” Molly pushed the “End” button.

Who was Todd? Why was another man calling Char on her birthday?

Char’s birthday. They had plans. She should go back.

The sob finally erupted. Molly sank onto the sand, sitting at the water’s edge, facing the horizon, her back to the people jogging by. She propped her elbows on her bent knees and covered her face with her hands.

She was pregnant. Pregnant!

The tears were not going to stop any time soon.

The roommates had not surfaced by the time Char finished dressing. Frustrated with the situation, she decided to take a walk herself and buy a newspaper. She slid some change into a pocket, sunglasses onto her nose, and thought about the boardwalk route to a vending machine. It would take her past numerous sardine-packed houses, a youth hostel, a motel, and countless interesting-looking people. If the previous two days were any indication, she would more than likely run into either Julian, the boor of a neighbor, or Zeke, an audacious, Bible-toting black man who probably struck up conversations with fence posts.

Char headed out the side door and down the street, a narrow one-way affair lined with garages, carports, and the backs of other small cottages. Half a block from theirs, she turned off it and onto one of the sidewalks that served as passageways from the beach to the business district. On either side of it sat tightly packed houses of all shapes and sizes, their front doors facing the center. The quiet area, profuse with plants, resembled a courtyard.

The walk took only a matter of moments. She reached the main street district, a traffic-filled boulevard and home to all kinds of trendy restaurants, beachy shops, and sports equipment rental places. She paused and scanned the area until she spotted a newspaper vending machine about three blocks away.

She strolled, not wanting to perspire, a given in the bright sunshine. A warm breeze blew against her face. A helicopter flew over, adding racket to the traffic noise.

Well, Molly had said turning forty could be hazardous to one’s health. Evidently her friends had reneged on their pledge to make hers different. As far as she could tell, hers equaled theirs in the disappointment category. What was she doing walking in a strange hot city all alone in search of a newspaper without her cell phone or car keys? With fun plans indefinitely delayed? At least at home she would have reminded the kids to tell Cam. Even without enthusiasm or an especially thoughtful gift, his response amounted to something. He never remembered the exact date itself without prompting; she hadn’t bothered to prompt anyone before she left. The kids would never think of it on their own. Would Kendra clue them in? Surely her friend had called by now and left a voice mail message.

She sighed. The only bright spot at the moment lay in Todd’s hint that he would send flowers. They could be there by the time she returned.

But then she would have to explain Todd to Molly, Andie, and Jo.

Oh, hang it all.

She comforted herself with thoughts of his attention. Even inappropriate, at least it was attention.

Twenty minutes later, newspaper in hand and still thinking of little else but Todd, Char approached her turn. Three uniformed policemen stood at the sidewalk’s corner. They were rather cute in their shorts and sunglasses, without hats. But she was in no mood to chitchat. She smiled tightly at the one who looked at her and attempted to sidestep him.

He blocked her path, his eyes hidden behind dark lenses. “Excuse me, ma’am. This way is closed.”

“But I’m staying in a house down there.”

“Sorry. You’ll have to find another route.”

“It’s not far.” She peered around him. “Just the other side—oh my word.” She spotted a fourth officer crouching beside a gate. “He has a gun.”

She didn’t know guns but it was obvious this particular one was not just any old pistol sort. It was long and huge with all kinds of attachments. A rifle?