The Beach House (38 page)

She sighed inwardly. They weren’t at square one. They were in a subterranean basement with no exit posted. Evidently the closure of one battle only cleared the way for another. She was not going to give up now, though. If she had to explain until she was blue in the face, she would do so. She swallowed the weepy feeling.

“Cam, sugar, ‘honey-buns’ is a big deal because it speaks volumes to me. It says you give a hoot. It says you notice me. It says you won’t leave me.”

“Leave? You thought I would leave you?”

“I didn’t consciously think it.” Her heart felt squeezed as if in a vice.

And then, right there, with a plate piled high with sukiyaki in front of her and Asian music twanging from a speaker overhead, she put two and two together. The feeling was old, familiar. It was one of great loss.

She looked at him. “Mama left. Daddy left, in a sense. He was so incapable of expressing emotion, and then he married what’s-her-face. One by one Jo, Molly, and Andie left.”

“And I left. Physically with long hours at the office. Emotionally.”

She whispered, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” He held his hand out to her.

She untwisted the napkin from her fingers and laid a hand in his, unable to speak.

“I think I have the funds to cover that check.” He smiled. “Honey-buns.”

They went to the beach and sat side by side on the seawall, facing the dark ocean.

Char slipped her hand into Cam’s. “Sugar, I am so glad you came.”

“So am I.” He squeezed her fingers. “Honey-buns.”

She smiled. He had called her that at least a dozen times in the past half hour.

He said, “I didn’t know what I was going to do once I got here. I didn’t know what you would do. I only knew I had to get here.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Why?”

He didn’t reply immediately. “That’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“Pretend like it’s not.”

“Well, because I love you!”

“Thank you. I like hearing that. And I love you.”

He touched her face. “I’m sorry for being so slow.”

“But you came after me, halfway across the country.”

“You shook me up, honey-buns.” He lowered his hand and gazed toward the water. “You made me feel anger and fear.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I haven’t felt anything good or bad for a long time.”

“What?”

“The truth is, Char, I’m bored silly with life.”

“Huh?”

“I hate dentistry.”

“Cam! You’ve always enjoyed it.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Never have. It was the thing to do, what with Dad retiring and the business all in place. I’d grown up under his tutelage. It was the easiest thing to step into. And it took care of the money issue. I wouldn’t have to think about that.” He held out his hands, inspecting them. “Look at these. They should be doing something else, like playing football.”

“Football?” Char couldn’t think straight. He’d played in high school. “You want to play football?”

“No. It’s just that these are not dentist hands. My mind is not a dentist’s. There’s got to be something more to life!”

Chateaubriand
. He had an inkling that matched hers! He too was tired of duck soup! He wanted complexity!

“Honey-buns, you woke me up. I can say it out loud now. I don’t want to be a dentist. Whew! That felt so good I’ll say it again. I don’t want to be a dentist! Think about it. We live in Chicago, one of the most exciting cities in the world, but day in and day out, five and a half days a week, year in and year out, I’m staring into people’s mouths. I might as well be in the middle of Nebraska! Do you know what I want to do?”

“What?”

He grinned. “Own a restaurant.”

“A restaurant?” Someone could have knocked her over with a feather. “A restaurant?”

“Yes. I have always wanted to do that.”

“You have?” News to her.

“Yes. I never told you that?”

From somewhere deep in her throat a laugh started. “Camden Wilcox! You never tell me a darn thing!”

He laughed with her. “That makes us even.”

“Okay. Even steven. Now you know what I want, and I know what you want.”

“So what do you think?”

“You’re serious? A restaurant? Well, uh, color me flabbergasted.” She scrambled to find encouraging words for the most bizarre thing he had ever uttered. “It, uh, sounds…interesting. You…you like food. You know food. Are you thinking maybe you could buy a place already going? Sort of have it on the side, like a hobby?”

“No, Char.” His smile stretched. “I want to open my very own. I want to run it myself. Day-to-day operations.”

She felt her eyes bulge.

“Not the cooking part, of course. I’d have to find a really good chef. That’s the secret. And location. Like in that strip mall they’re renovating on Fifth. Imagine starting from scratch. Creating menus. Hiring staff. Advertising. Outfitting the place. Maybe make it a California theme. This beach environment here is stimulating, isn’t it? Imagine replicating it in the Midwest.” He stopped, and his smile faded. “We’d lose money. Prestige. We’d all have to pitch in. The kids too.” He heaved a sigh. “That’s why I never pursued it. Shoot, I never even thought much about it, let alone pursued it. Ah, forget I said anything.”

She blinked, still digesting his wild ideas. He actually had a dream! He was talking! And now he was giving up?

“No, Cam, I don’t think I will forget you said anything. As I live and breathe, this is the first heartfelt thing you’ve communicated to me in eons. I will not ignore such an event.” She paused for effect. “I do, however, have one question.”

Shadows hid his eyes, but he faced her. The streetlamp cast light on his mouth, now settled back into its habitual straight line. Oh! How she had already—in a short couple of hours—grown accustomed to its upturn! To its free movement releasing words upon words!

Come on, Cam. Don’t leave me now
.

Molly would pray. Well, she could too.

Dear God, help. Please
?

She said, “Do you want to hear the question?”

He shrugged.

She elbowed him. “You can do better than that.”

He cleared his throat. “Okay. Ask it.”

“Can we serve chateaubriand?”

“Chateaubriand?”

“You know. Double-thick beef tenderloin.”

“Center cut. With sauce?”

“And fixings. Potatoes, other vegetables. As complex as we can make it.”

A slow grin made its way across his broad face. “Sure. Whatever you want, honey-buns.”

“Okay, Cam. Then you should think about it. Dream big.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.”

They smiled at each other.

And then he kissed her. And she kissed him back. And she knew she wouldn’t be returning Jo’s car to the beach house until sometime tomorrow.

Andie awoke with a start in the middle of the night. Where was she? Where was the clock? Odd shadows filled the room. The steady whoosh of the ocean was loud, very near.

And then she remembered.
Spend the night alone in a motel
. She had added a postscript to the final test:
with the window open
.

When she had gone to bed, she imagined Molly’s baby in a similar environment, one of uttermost safety. The rhythmic sounds and the sensation of floating had lulled her to sleep.

Snuggling deeper under the covers, she smiled. She felt no fear.

Then why was she awake? So wide awake?

She moved around until she saw the digital clock. It read two forty-seven. Not exactly time to get up.

But that was what she wanted to do. She felt a sudden urgent desire to not sleep through her all-night adventure. Something might be missed!

She rolled from the bed and wrapped herself in a blanket. Although she hadn’t packed a robe, she had brought along herbal tea bags and now brewed a cup. Like that first night after Molly had dragged her outside to the seawall, she felt drawn to the mystery of ocean and stars. She carried her mug out onto the tiny deck area and leaned against the railing.

The evening’s cloud cover had dissipated and the stars shone.

“Lord, You are awesome! To think You made all this and bother to notice me. We made it through that list of fears with flying colors, didn’t we?”

What a day it had been! She thought of Julian, Zeke, Jelly, the roller coaster attendant, the woman beside her in the Japanese restaurant. “You surrounded me with angels, didn’t You?”

She had never felt so contented, so at peace, so loved, so spilling over with love, love to give away. Did all this have to end? Three days remained to spend with her friends, and then it would be time to go back home and pick up life where it had left off what felt like an eternity ago. Then what? Would it all end?

Spunky Andie was not going to fit into that mold.

“Point-blank, Lord. I am tired of kowtowing to a man who tells me with every glance I am worthless and who has a girlfriend and probably has had others in the past. I know You died for him, Jesus. You took these sins against me into Yourself. So with Your help, I can forgive him.” Her shoulders dropped, as if the struggle left her. “Yes, I do forgive him. But I refuse to accept the status quo.”

She winced slightly and waited.

No fire rained from the heavens. No voice boomed condemnation. No fear rattled in her chest or choked her throat.

“Okay.” She calmly sipped her tea. “Now what do we do?”

At four
AM
Andie curled up with her cell on the chair next to the cottage window and listened to another phone ringing. Not wanting to disturb the boys by calling the house, she had dialed Paul’s cell number. The thing was like another appendage for him.

Her heart pounded away, doing its thunder rendition, resonating in her chest, throat, and ears.

Lord
.

The ringing stopped. “Hi there!” Paul’s exuberant voice came through above another one that sounded like a newscaster’s. “Hold on. Let me turn this down.” The noise dimmed. “Miss me already, darlin’?”

Andie’s heart went into double-time and felt as if it would bound from her chest. He hadn’t checked the caller ID. He was driving.

He said, “I miss you too.”

Her booming heart muffled his voice.

But his words were like lightning flashes that preceded thunderous booms. They seared themselves into her mind.

God! Please
!

“Hello-oh. Are you there?” His singsong tone teased.

Andie wanted to crawl back around the corner and into the mouse hole, back into her warm cozy nest where ignorance was bliss.

No!
She did not want to do that. She wanted a point-blank life. Candid. Forthright. Free-spoken.

She swallowed and reminded herself that her husband’s words now proved what she had already suspected. She wasn’t the guilty one who should crawl away.

“Paul, it’s me.” Surprisingly, her voice did not quiver. Her heart decelerated a notch.