Chapter 38
Some people say they were born knowing what they wanted to do with their lives, having a direction from the get-go.
Not me. I was born without a compass and it had taken me quite some time to develop one, but I truly felt I was on my way to figuring out my direction.
Even while walking Jazzy and Beau, I could sense it happening. No more drifting.
After returning the dogs, I went out to the deck for a little break. Moving to the edge, I reached out to grip the railing and flinched away from a sharp sting, realizing too late that the rosebush had claimed that section.
“Ouch.” I flipped my hand over and noticed a thorn stuck in the center of my palm.
Mom would have corrected me, saying this was a prickle, not a thorn.
Either way, I held my breath, pinched the sharp nuisance between my finger and thumb and plucked it out.
As a small bead of blood formed, I recalled that verse about a thorn in the flesh.
Somewhere in Second Corinthians, I think.
I’d heard varying thoughts on what troubled Paul.
Some said the thorn was a sickness, some said it was a sin.
Others pointed out that Paul actually told us what the thorn was to some degree, that it was a messenger from Satan to torment him.
I didn’t claim to be a theologian, but I could relate to the messenger tormenting me.
Not a day went by that the devil wasn’t in my ear, tearing me down.
You’re a nobody.
A screwup.
You’ll never stay clean.
You’re the worst mother ever.
Some days I believed my tormentor’s lies.
That I would fail again and again. That Fern deserved better than me.
That I had no right to want her. But I was finally starting to realize those days I had to lean into the truths even more.
No matter how many mistakes, fails, stumbles, thorns, I was still a child of the heavenly Father and nothing could pluck me out of his hands.
I placed my thumb over the wound, applying pressure, and moved inside.
On the coffee table, my phone screen lit up with an incoming text message from Henry. He’d been out of town but never missed his morning prayer text. He’d already sent the daily text, so I wasn’t certain about this one. Curious, I thumbed it open.
I’m on your porch. I have a surprise but you have to PROMISE not to freak out. Brace yourself and answer the door.
I reread it twice and wasn’t all that certain how one braces themselves. Winging it, I took a few deep breaths and rotated my shoulders. Opening the door, I said, “Please don’t have me a dog . . .” I froze at the sight before me.
“I thought this was the only way to properly apologize to you.” Henry placed his hand on Fern’s tiny shoulder. I began to get choked up but he shook his head. “Not in front of your little company. You can do that afterwards.”
Gasping for air, I knelt in front of her and grinned, taking in her neat pigtails and pink floral sundress. “Fernie!”
She clung to Henry’s leg, looking uncertain in a way that tore my heart out. My child doesn’t even know me.
“So we stopped by Walmart and got lots of sand toys and Aunt Lana packed us a picnic. Would you like to spend the day on the beach with us?”
Sniffing, I nodded, then cleared the knot from my throat. “I’d love to.”
“Great.” Henry patted Fern’s shoulder. “Fernie, how about you stay here with your mom and I’ll go get your toys.”
Fern looked at me curiously, her green eyes so assessing, reminding me so much of myself and Arlo.
Then she reached for me and my world tilted so severely that I think it righted for the first time.
I picked up my daughter, pressed a kiss to her smooth cheek, and carried her inside, marveling at how I could so easily carry my whole world right here in my arms.
“I love you, Fernie.” I kissed the side of her forehead and breathed in the sweet almond scent, pleasantly surprised that Lana still used my favorite baby shampoo.
Henry came through the door with a small toilet seat. “Lana said to have Fernie try to use the bathroom as soon as we got here. She said this fits right on top of the regular toilet.”
“Oh, Fernie, you’re potty training. That’s so great!” I’d missed so much.
“While you do that, I’m going to run next door to change. Be right back.”
I helped Fern in the bathroom, praising her for doing a good job. She smiled, showing off her daddy’s dimples. “I a big girl.”
“Yes, you are!”
Soon Henry returned and I went upstairs to change too, choosing an old long-sleeved rash guard shirt to wear over my bikini top.
Most of the bruises around my wrists had healed and only a few spots remained yellow, but I didn’t want to explain them.
It still seemed surreal what transpired here just a week ago.
After we gathered everything, we made our way to the beach. From the outside, I’m sure we looked like a perfect family and I would have loved it to be true.
“Okay, who wants to help me build a sea turtle?”
Henry straightened his glasses. “A sea turtle?”
“Yep.” I grabbed a bucket and started filling it with wet sand. “Come on. We’ll need lots of sand.”
We filled and dumped the wet sand into a pile and as we worked, my little girl hummed and it was the most precious thing.
“She does that a lot,” Henry commented, noticing me watching her.
I sat back on my haunches and wiped the sweat off my brow. “You’ve spent a lot of time with her?”
Henry continued digging. “I have recently, yes.”
“Why?”
He stopped and used the back of his hand to push his glasses up his nose. “I wanted to get to know her and also . . .” He glanced at Fern. She seemed lost in her own world, humming and digging. “I wanted to try talking some sense into your stubborn brother.”
At a loss for words, I went back to forming a wide dome of sand.
Fern eventually scooted into my lap and placed her hands near mine and we both worked together, smoothing the sand.
I tried staying in the moment, cherishing each minute gifted to me, but my heart ached, knowing I’d have to let her go at the end of the day.
“I hungwy.”
I glanced down at her and smiled. “You are?”
She nodded, making her pigtails bounce around.
“Let’s see what Aunt Lana made us.” I helped Fern to her feet and stood, taking the time to brush off as much sand as possible, then moved to the blanket where the cooler bag sat.
I began pulling everything out—neatly packed ham sandwiches, sliced cucumbers, bags of chips, sliced peaches, and a little container filled with ketchup. “What’s the ketchup for?”
“Cukes!” Fern said, scooping up the bag of cucumbers.
I laughed. “Oh my gosh. Cucumbers dipped in ketchup is what I craved while I was pregnant with you, Fernie girl.”
“Seriously?” Henry joined us on the blanket, looking right doubtful.
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” I opened the container and dunked a piece of cucumber into the ketchup, then handed it to Fern. She didn’t even hesitate before popping it into her mouth.
Henry curled his lip.
Unperturbed, I dunked a slice and chomped down.
The flavor brought back so many memories: my first bout of morning sickness, the first time I felt the butterfly dance that was my baby inside me, the first strong kick—thankfully, Arlo got to experience her kicks before he died—the first contraction, the first time I held my baby in my arms.
“Are you okay? Is that weird mess making you sick?”
Blinking back tears, I looked up at Henry and shook my head. “Just memories visiting me. Lots and lots of memories.” Needing to ground myself, I leaned over and kissed the side of Fern’s head and handed her another cucumber. Getting my act together, I divvied out our lunches.
Once we were done eating, Fern began to yawn.
Henry placed the empty containers into the cooler bag. “We probably need to let the little lady rest some.”
“There’s an umbrella in the garage. You want to go get it, and we could take a break out here?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Henry dusted his hands and hurried up the beach to the garage.
He rejoined us with the blue-striped beach umbrella.
He placed it over the blanket and the three of us stretched out.
Surprisingly, Fern gave us no trouble, just curled next to me and started playing in my hair as if each strand made up her favorite security blanket—something else she used to do before I lost her.
Henry rolled to his side and smoothed her pigtail away from her face. “She’s special.”
Smiling, I tucked Fern closer to me. “Yeah?”
“Of course. She’s a lot like her mother.” Henry reached to smooth my hair, much like he just did Fern’s. “She loves to draw. Cy’s fridge is covered in squiggly pictures. And she does that thing like you do where you run your thumb over the top of your fingernails.” He touched the tips of my nails.
“I can’t believe you even noticed that.”
“There’s not much about you I haven’t noticed.” Entwining our hands, Henry whispered, “There’s something else you two have in common.”
Grinning like a fool, I whispered, “What’s that?”
He scooted a little closer, as if he were about to share the grandest secret ever. “She really hates coffee.”
I snorted out a laugh, jostling Fern a bit, but she kept on snoozing.
With a slow wink, Henry yawned, and soon his eyes closed for a while.
The lull of the ocean waves and the caress of the sunshine tempted me to sleep too, but I didn’t dare give in to it.
I remained attentive, taking in my two favorite people sleeping so contentedly, and prayed a miracle would show up where I could keep them both.
Sure, Henry had hurt me, but now I’d begun to see what he did from his perspective.
If he’d not concealed his connection with Cy, I may never had gotten to know him on the level I did this summer.
Soon, too soon, it was time to return Fern to Columbia.
We put away the beach day and after changing Fern into some dry clothes for the trip home, I started crying. The tears wouldn’t stop falling out of my eyes, but I kept on smiling, probably looking a bit deranged.
“Why don’t you ride with us?” Henry suggested.
I looked up from folding Fern’s beach towel. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.” He picked up Fern and bopped her on the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “Fernie, would you like Mommy to ride with us?”
“Yep, yep!”
“Okay.” I finished packing her bag and gladly jumped in Henry’s Jeep.
We sang nursery rhymes most of the way, and completely off-key.
All too soon, we pulled into Cy’s driveway and he met us outside.
“Hi,” Cy said awkwardly.
“Hey,” I said much in the same weird tone.
“Unka Cy!” Fern nearly squealed. “We got a sea turtle!”
He scooped her up and gave us a quizzical look. “You did?”
“We made a sand sea turtle,” I corrected.
Henry whipped out his phone to show off pictures he took of our creation. “Pretty neat, right?”
Cy glanced in my direction, then back to the phone. “Yeah.”
Lana appeared at the door and ushered us inside. “Fern, let’s go potty.” She held Fern’s hand and started down the hallway with me following.
I should have thought of that, taking my daughter first thing, and felt chastised even though I hadn’t been. “Fern did a great job today. No accidents.”
Lana grinned at my daughter. “She’s been so much easier to potty train than Alex was. I didn’t think he’d ever get the hang of it. But not this little lady. She’s caught on really quick.”
“Thank you, Lana, for . . . everything. Fern’s blessed to have you.”
Lana’s grin settled into more of a thoughtful smile. “Fern is a blessing to us. We love her.”
I nodded, wanting to say I loved her too, but this wasn’t a competition and I feared I’d get upset. I was already walking a fine line with my emotions.
Once we were finished in the bathroom, we joined the guys and Alex in the living room where a wall of moving boxes reminded me of their impending departure. Instead of sitting on the couch or in a chair, everyone stood, making it clear we were not invited to stay awhile.
“I guess we better head back. Cy, thanks for today.” Henry placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me a soft nudge, the gesture making it clear it was time to go, but that was the last thing I wanted to do.
I squatted in front of Fern. “I love you, Fernie,” I said, giving her what I’d hoped was an easy smile.
She wrapped her little arms around my neck and squeezed.
I hugged her until Cy cleared his throat.
“I’ll see you soon,” I whispered, then let go, even though my heart begged me not to.
I unglued my feet and allowed Henry to steer me out the door.
We had just made it down the steps when the door opened and shut behind us. I turned and saw Cy standing there.
Cy cleared his throat. “I was thinking . . . If it’s okay with you, we want to spend the weekend at the beach house.”
I perked up. “Of course. It’s your house too.”
Cy nodded. “Okay. Well, we’ll see you Friday.”
“Okay.” I heard the Jeep crank behind me. “I guess I better go.”
“Junie . . .”
I paused and looked over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“You know I love you, right?”
I mustered a smile. “I love you too.” Close to coming undone, I gave him a quick wave and climbed into the Jeep.
We remained quiet until Henry drove out of the neighborhood. “I think that went well—”
A bloodcurdling wail tore through my chest and all the pent-up emotions brought on by the day erupted out of me. Instead of trying to soothe me, Henry drove home and just let me sob.
We made it back to Sullivan’s Island. By then the sobs had trickled down to a mere whimper, but Henry wouldn’t let me go home.
“Just . . . Let’s sit outside and get some fresh air, okay?”
Not knowing what to do with myself, I agreed, and Henry led me over to his patio where we sat staring off at the shore. He placed an arm around my shoulders and held me for a good long while until I managed to pull myself together.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Does this mean you accept my apology?”
“Yeah. What you did today . . . that was a pretty solid apology.” I unraveled myself from his arms and stood. “I better head home.”
He grasped my hand before I got very far. “Once the dust settles, what do you think about me asking you out?”
“There’s a lot of dust that needs settling.”
“I’m a patient man.”
I met his eyes and smiled. “Then I’d like that.” I gave his hand a gentle squeeze and walked away.