Chapter nine
Willow
Yet another morning where the sight of the sun rising from my balcony is making the thought of leaving this place behind even harder to imagine.
I bring my cup of coffee to my lips, blowing steam off the top before taking a sip and smacking my lips in approval. I’ve never been much of a morning person, but waking up to this every day is quickly changing that.
Folding my feet underneath me, I take a seat in the rocking chair now perched on my balcony thanks to Dallas.
Unfortunately, sleep has evaded me lately as my mind and body have been stirring with thoughts of that man, the man that is just as good-looking as he is infuriating.
I wish I didn’t care to know more about him. I wish he didn’t pop up at the most inopportune times. And I wish his little act of kindness of putting this chair together didn’t make me want to lower my defenses just a tad.
But it does.
And I’m still struggling with why.
As the waves crash up onto the beach, I watch a flock of seagulls fly overhead, a few of them landing in the sand in front of my house. And as I watch them, my eyes catch sight of something that has me standing up from my chair, entirely perplexed in an instant.
“What the hell?”
I march through the sliding door, down the stairs, and out the front door as fast as my feet will carry me, walking right up to the figure that has my jaw dropping open instantly.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Astonished laughter escapes my lips as I stare at the scarecrow standing in front of the house. I mean, I guess you could classify it as a scarecrow, so we’ll go with that description.
But the goal of this scarecrow is to deter geese.
Placed strategically in the ground on a rather substantial stake is a painted figure that resembles a woman with her blonde hair in a bun sitting low on her neck.
A straw hat covers her head, and dark blue coveralls adorn her body.
In one hand is a martini glass, and in the other is a sign that says, No geese, PLEASE! I laugh at the emphasis on “please.”
There’s only one person who could have come up with this, giving me yet another reason not to truly hate him—although I’m not sure my mind or body ever really got that message to begin with.
***
“Thank you again for inviting me.” I turn toward Astrid, who is busy slathering her son with sunscreen while I watch her daughter play at the shoreline, where the water kisses the sand.
“Of course. I’m glad you came. After you left, I worried whether the invite was too forward.” She shakes her head. “I forget that we barely know each other, so I may have come off a little too friendly and overenthusiastic at the idea of making a friend.”
I smile, understanding completely. “I understand that, but honestly, you’re the first person I’ve met here that hasn’t made me feel like an outsider, so I appreciate you being so forward. Lord knows I wouldn’t have been.”
Astrid chuckles. “Well that makes me feel a little bit better.”
“Am I done?” Her son, Bentley, whines as she releases him.
“I still need to get your face.”
“Ugh!” He rolls his eyes and I fight to hold back my smile. “You know I’m old enough to do this on my own, right?”
“Yes, but you won’t be as thorough as I will, and trust me, you’ll thank me later in life when you don’t have melanoma. Or wrinkles.” She applies zinc under his eyes so he looks like a lifeguard and ushers him off.
“Did you rub it all in?” he shouts as he runs off toward the water.
“Totally!” she calls after him, and then takes a seat back in her chair next to mine, waving her hand to the side. “He’ll never know.”
“Ruthless. I love it.”
She laughs and then takes a sip from her drink. “Anyway, how are things going with the house?”
“The list that I made is deceptively short considering the amount of work that needs to be done. But Penn has completely stripped the downstairs bathroom and will start restoring it this weekend. Then we’re going to paint, restore the hardwood floors, replace light fixtures and outlets, refinish the kitchen cabinets, and the last thing is to replace the roof. ”
She nods in understanding. “That’s quite the list, but if there is anyone who can accomplish it, it’s him. He’ll probably be there after the soccer game on Saturday then.”
“Soccer game?”
“Yeah. He and Dallas coach Bentley’s soccer team.”
Seriously? The man coaches his employee/friend’s son’s soccer team?
How am I supposed to keep him at arm’s length when I learn these new pieces of information about him that don’t make him sound like a neanderthal?
“He did mention he wouldn’t be able to come by until Saturday afternoon, so I guess that makes sense now.”
“Yeah. It means a lot that those two give up some of their time to coach the team. Ever since Brandon died, I know Bentley has felt like he’s missing out on things that his dad should be here for. Brandon used to coach him when he was home—not on deployment, I mean.”
I nod in understanding, but I can sense Astrid becoming emotional as her thoughts turn to Brandon. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about it,” I say as I reach out and place my hand on her arm on instinct.
Astrid stares at the ocean. “It’s okay. It’s just crazy how sometimes I feel at peace about it, and others it takes me by surprise and overwhelms me. It must be because the veterans’ dinner is coming up.”
“Veterans’ dinner?”
She nods. “Carrington Cove has a dinner every year to honor those that have served or are still serving in the military. Since we’re so close to the Marine base, Camp Lejeune, many veterans live here or come here for treatment after returning from deployment.
Brandon and I used to go to the dinner together every year.
” Her eyes cast right as we watch the kids ride waves into the shore on their boogie boards.
“I didn’t go the first year after he died.
But then when I went the next year, Penn stayed by my side the entire time. ” She sighs at the memory.
The demanding part of me that always seeks answers wants to know more about their dynamic. But the part of me who is trying to make a friend here accepts defeat for now and decides not to push.
She clears her throat and then she twists rapidly in her seat, her eyes widening as she stares at me. “What if you came with me this year?”
“Me?” I ask, pointing to my chest.
“Yes! It will be fun! We get to dress up, have a few drinks. There won’t be any kids,” she mumbles out the side of her mouth. “Penn will probably be tied to his mom this year, so I’ll need a friend.”
I can’t help but grin at her candidness. But then trepidation sinks in. “I don’t know, Astrid. I don’t know anyone really. I feel like everyone will wonder why I even came. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“No, I think it will do the opposite. Help people in town see that you’re getting involved and supporting the community.”
“But I don’t live here, Astrid…”
“Hate to break it to you, friend,” she teases, “but you own a home in Carrington Cove now. That means you are a member of this community, at least until your house is ready to sell. So why not see everything we have to offer? I mean, I know the veterans’ dinner isn’t a Vegas night out, and to be frank, it will probably be a little depressing at times.
But it’s important to the people here, and I think it would mean a lot to them if you were there. ”
I mull over her points, still unsure as uneasiness rests in my stomach. “Can I think about it?”
Her shoulders deflate, but she smiles at me. “Of course.”
“When is it, by the way?”
“Two weeks from now.”
“Okay.”
“Mom!” Lilly runs up to us, her hands cupped as she holds something inside. “Look at all of these shells that Bentley and I found!”
“Those are beautiful, baby. And so many purple ones! Put them in the bag.” Astrid lifts a plastic bag from the wagon she used to carry all of her stuff onto the beach, popping open the seal and holding it open so her daughter can gently place the shells inside.
“We’ll add them to the vase when we get home. ”
“I’m going to go find more!” Lilly shouts as she races back toward the water.
“We have a vase in their bathroom full of purple seashells they’ve found over the years.
It was Brandon’s idea, something fun that they would do together whenever we came to the beach.
He told them the purple ones were rare treasures, little pieces of the ocean’s magic.
” She pauses and then laughs lowly. “Really, we just didn’t want to bring the whole beach home with us every time we came.
I don’t know what I’m going to do when that thing is full. ”
I reach for her hand, knowing that even though our losses are different, Astrid’s grief and the underlying grief I hold onto are still very similar—a pain that comes in unpredictable waves just like the ocean before us.
Sometimes it's calm, and memories gently wash over you, leaving you with a sense of peace and comfort.
But then, out of nowhere, a wave of sorrow crashes over you, so powerful it knocks you off your feet and leaves you reeling.
I squeeze her hand in silent understanding. “You’ll just buy a bigger vase.”
***
After my beach day with Astrid and a few more days of working from my house, I decide to venture out on Saturday, reminding myself that it’s not good to be alone all the time.
Funny thing is, that’s exactly how I preferred to be before I came here.
But like many aspects of my life recently… things change.
I stop by Keely’s, treating myself to one of her gourmet coffees that puts Starbucks to shame, and then find a cute little breakfast spot to enjoy a hot meal by the water. It’s a bold summer day at the end of August, so the temperature is quickly rising.