The Beach House (37 page)

“What a surprise!” she said.

“Good to see you. Excuse me. I need to put our name in for a table.”

Andie let her mouth drop open as she turned to Char.

“I know!” Char said. “Halfway across the country.”

“What’s going on?”

“I called Cam from the restaurant last night and told him about Todd, and then I left Todd there and this morning Molly prayed with me and—Oh! There is so much to tell you! I’ll fill you in later. How was your day?”

“Great.”

“You ate here? All by yourself?”

Andie smiled. Char knew her phobia of eating alone. It dated back to school cafeteria days. “I ate with a group of strangers!”

Char laughed. “That’s even better than by yourself!”

“Now I’m off to my motel room.”

“Okay. Go for it, Miss Spunk. See you tomorrow.”

They hugged goodbye and Andie made her way through the crowd to the door, smiling to herself. Molly prayed
with
Char? Cam showed up? Wow.

Night had fallen, but the streets were brightly lit and the sidewalks lined with restaurants and people. Taxis weren’t plentiful in the beach community, but the motel was within walking distance. Andie headed for it.

Check off number ten. She had eaten sashimi with strangers.

Her heels felt wound up with springs. They bounced her along the sidewalk.

She had just talked with Char. Uh-oh.

She halted.

Did that cancel
spend twenty-four hours without friends or family
?

Well…she hadn’t really
spent time
with her. And their meeting was by accident. It wasn’t as if she’d sought her company. It wasn’t the same as, say, calling the boys—which she still longed to do simply to hear them laugh at what their uptight mother had done.

But she didn’t really need to hear their laughter before tomorrow. After all, she was feeling God’s pleasure at her
fearing not
. Somehow that more than made up for any momentary loneliness.

She resumed her spunky strut.

Check off number eleven
!

Char sat across from Cam in a booth at the Japanese restaurant. Unlike Andie’s experience, they chose to dine in a quieter room and let the chef cook their meals out of sight.

The thought struck her that they hadn’t eaten dinner alone without friends or family at the table in—well, who knew how many years?

She choked on a sip of water.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded and coughed into a napkin. Did he have any idea? Instead of blurting out the question, she held back. She was measuring her words tonight, trying to stay on track.

Like an angst-ridden teen, she had sat in the beach house all afternoon, phone in her pocket, mind racing, stomach churning. Regret over her actions and anger over his inaction duked it out, neither one winning the struggle. She was wrong. He was wrong.

But he had come. He
had
come. Like Jo said, three pluses for the guy.

At last he had called at six forty, suggesting dinner. He was hungry. She wasn’t, but obviously that didn’t matter. They needed to talk.

Understatement of the year.

Jo and Molly had helped her prepare by asking what his favorite food was and locating an appropriate place not too far away. On her third change of clothes, they convinced her she looked presentable. She wondered why she was concerned. It wasn’t as though he would notice.

Jo gave her the keys to her car with an exaggerated wink. “Don’t hurry back. If I should need the car in the morning, I know which motel you’re at.”

She had picked up Cam at the motel located a few blocks from the beach house and driven to the restaurant. They hadn’t exchanged any words of significance. He appeared rested but was still standoffish. It was as if after his leap into the action which got him to San Diego, he forgot the point of his heroic efforts.

Which was just fine with her. If he didn’t get the point—to fix things between them—she wasn’t going to explain it. She wasn’t even sure she wanted a hug. She knew for certain she wasn’t going to give one first.

After they ordered, he said, “You’re so quiet tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve prattled on too much through the years.”

“I like listening to your prattle.”

Huh
? She felt her head bob. He listened to her prattle? And liked it?

“I like your teasing and flirting and making people feel good. I guess…”He shrugged. “Well, I’ve thought about what you said earlier, how I don’t tell you things. You know, I talk all day at the office. I guess I get talked out.”

So his patients and staff were more important to him than she was? She squeezed her hands together on her lap, determined to let him talk.

“And at home or when we’re out, you always speak for both of us, and that’s okay by me. You’re much better at it. I’ve told you that.”

The compliment sounded vaguely familiar. He had told her… “Twenty years ago,” she quipped and bit her tongue so hard an “Ow!” slipped out before she could stop it.

“What?”

“I bit my tongue. I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic.”

“Well, twenty years is a long time. I’ll give you that.” His puppy brown eyes shimmered as if full of tears.

And she wilted.

He said, “It’s mostly you I talk about all day long. You and the kids. Patients always ask. I tell them all about your volunteer work, how you run the school and the women’s clubs. I tell them about what you cook. About your trip here with old friends. About your latest—what is it? Kickboxing?”

Close enough. She nodded. “I had no idea.”

“I assumed you would know.” He paused. “You don’t love him?”

“Todd?” A flirtation, a crush, a coping mechanism. But love? “No. I love you.”

“Yet he can give you what I don’t?”

“To a certain extent. He gave me attention, Cam, the kind women want.”

“But I take care of you. I work and pay the bills. Isn’t that more important? Isn’t that attention enough?”

“You just described what my father did for me. I don’t need another father. So, no, it’s not enough.” She thought of chateaubriand and knights in shining armor. How could she make him understand?

“It’s not enough,” he repeated her words, his forehead creased. “Okay. Where do I start? I can’t undo the past. I can’t conceive the future. What do you want from me right now this very moment?”

That was an easy one. When she whispered to God in her heart that morning, walls of pride crumbled and His forgiveness poured in. A few bricks remained, though. She saw that clearly now because she hesitated to reply. But honestly! In the deluge of her “I’m sorrys,” he hadn’t once extended forgiveness. Why should she be the first one to ask for it? After all, if he’d been a better husband, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

And then she saw the tenderness in his raised brows, in the downturned set of his mouth. He longed to understand.

Well, somebody had to go first. “What I want, what I
need
, is your forgiveness.”

“You have that.” Not even a heartbeat separated his words from hers. “That goes without saying.”

Relief flowed through her. Quick on its heels, though, came frustration. Nothing could go without saying! That was the problem! Why couldn’t he—She gulped in a lungful of air and held it. Her husband had forgiven her.

She released the breath. “Oh, Cam. Thank you. I don’t deserve it, but I don’t know how I would go on if you didn’t forgive me.”

“I hear the dumbest stories from patients. Either about themselves or others, about how they’d rather be bitter and self-righteous than to forgive a spouse.” He shook his head. “Divorces right and left.”

She simply stared at him. All right, she did believe aliens could inhabit humans.

“Char, you don’t want a divorce, do you?”

“Oh my word!” Her voice rose several octaves. “No! Do you?”

“Of course not. What would I do without you? You keep me going.”

“I do?”

He gazed at her, and she suddenly realized he had maintained eye contact since closing the menu. “You didn’t know that?”

“Not a clue, sugar.”

“I should have said something?”

She nodded.

“Will you forgive me? For not saying things I should have? For not noticing you?”

There was only one answer to that question.

“Yes, of course I forgive you.”

For the first time in ever so long, he smiled directly at her, his entire face engaged.

Like a thirsty desert nomad coming at last upon an oasis, she tasted the water cautiously, taking tiny sips, giving the dry pockets of herself time to absorb it.

And hoping with all her might that it flowed from a perpetual source.

An unobtrusive waiter served the many dishes Cam had chosen. As usual he inhaled his miso soup, sushi, and an entire platter of tempura. But he also managed to talk nonstop.

Char, dumbstruck at moments, nibbled and wondered what had uncorked him. First his ears—so obvious in the way he heard her—and now it seemed his vocal cords were set free as well. At times she couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

Halfway through his yakisoba, he said, “Char, he’s our neighbor. I can’t pretend that nothing happened.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“He should apologize.”

“Yes, but I doubt that’ll happen. He left a voice mail, cursing me up one side and down the other. I think he will avoid us at all costs.”

“He swore at you?”

“Yes.”

“He’s always seemed like a nice, regular sort of guy. Friendly. Returns my tools in good shape.”

“Cam, he’s a womanizer. And I fell for it.”

Chopsticks in midair, he gazed at her. “You were that desperate for attention?”

“Yes.”

He set down the sticks, the bite uneaten. “Char, I am sorry. I just didn’t know.”

She shrugged.

“Thank you for calling last night. I know you’re giving me another chance. I don’t want to blow it this time. Tell me what I should do. Tell me how to be. I want to guarantee that you won’t need a Todd anymore.”

Whew! He got it! Molly must have been praying up a storm. Cam actually got it! And he was giving her carte blanche!

She blinked back tears of gratitude. “Cam, that’s like handing me a blank check.”

“Well, fill in the blanks and I’ll see what I can do.”

Batting her eyelashes like crazy did not help.

Fill in the blanks?

Punch Todd Brooks in the nose for real
.

At the least, call him a few dirty names to his face
.

Turn off the television
.

Lose fifty pounds
.

Give me surprise gifts. Flowers will do
.

Just pay attention
.

Tell me what you’re thinking. Communicate
.

Remember my birthday
.

No. None of those were it, not exactly.

“There’s really only one thing.” Her voice was unsteady.

“Okay.”

The floodgates threatened to split open again. She locked her jaw into place.

He leaned forward. “And that is…what?”

Fighting for control, she whispered quickly, “Call me honey-buns.”

“Call you—huh? I do call you that. I’ve always—”

She raised her brows.

“I do! I distinctly see myself coming home after work and saying—”

She cut him off with a tilt of her head. “When was that?”

“When?” A sheepish expression spread over his face. “When we lived in the apartment.”

She nodded.

“Maybe our first house too.”

“Fifteen years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

Thank You, God
.

Looking lost in thought, he picked up his chopsticks, set them back down, and then leaned toward her again. “Why is this little thing such a big deal to you?”