Chapter 22 Jake
Jake pulled into his usual parking lot, the one next to the cool blue condo building that overlooked his favorite section of beach, near the pier.
He parked and beeped the Audi locked. Even though it was past seven in the evening, it was still crazy hot by the water.
The freshly pressed blue cotton shirt he was wearing was already sticking to him, the shower he’d taken a half-hour ago negated.
He screwed up his face and headed for the pier steps, passing the little surf shop he frequented.
There had been weeks without any new developments in Liv’s case, and Jake was beyond frustrated.
The police didn’t seem to be doing anything.
They’d found no new clues, and Detective Banks seemed to be getting tired of placating Jake whenever he called.
Which was several times a week. Sometimes daily.
Maybe this dinner tonight wasn’t such a great idea, he thought as he mounted the steps. But then again, he wanted to stay in close contact with Liv’s family. He found it comforting, even though it was painful dealing with their obvious distress.
At the top, he pushed through the door to the Beach House Bar and Grill, pausing to take some calming breaths.
The welcoming space inside the restaurant usually soothed him, with its lofty vaulted ceilings, kitschy fishing décor, and the elegant rows of French doors to each side that led onto the pier, giving diners a great ocean view.
“Reservation?” asked a platinum blonde hostess he didn’t recognize, barely looking at him.
“I’m meeting my in-laws.” He read her name badge. She looked like a Hayley. “I see them over there.” He gestured to a table near one of the open doors, where Tilly and Burt were waiting.
Hayley guided him over, handing Jake a menu with a disingenuous smile. “Your server will be with you soon.”
“Hi Tilly.” Jake gave Liv’s mom a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, Burt.” He shook Burt’s broad hand over the table and sat down opposite them.
They reminded him so much of his own parents — a strapping, tall father and petite mother.
Except Tilly was a lot more glamorous than his own mom. “Good to see you both.”
He examined the menu, even though he already knew it backward. He could feel Liv’s parents watching him, so he forced himself to look up.
Tilly smiled sadly. “We haven’t seen you in weeks. How are you doing, honey?”
Jake pushed out his lips. “Not great, right now. I was feeling a little better when stuff seemed to be happening — you know, even the bad stuff, like searches and such. But this . . . this nothingness is driving me crazy.” He took a sip from the water glass in front of him, shaking his head.
He wasn’t the only one going through this. “How are you guys feeling?”
“Same.” Burt’s voice was gruff. “Don’t know what the police are doing, but it sure don’t seem to be much.”
Tilly reached across the table to Jake’s hand. “It’s so hard, for all of us.” Her voice wobbled.
Oh God. Please don’t let Tilly have another meltdown right here in the restaurant.
Mercifully, they were interrupted by a server stopping at their table — a middle-aged woman with a shock of red hair and a much warmer smile than the hostess who’d greeted Jake.
“I’m Deb, I’ll be looking after you tonight. What can I get you fine folks?”
Jake pulled his hand from Tilly’s and picked up the menu. “I’ll take the Beach Burger with yam fries and a bottle of Foothills IPA. Thanks.”
Burt and Tilly both ordered the fish tacos and a bottle of white wine to share, even though Burt was clearly driving the ten minutes back to their home at Landfall.
“No sweat.” Deb departed with a toothy grin.
“They’ve got a bunch of new staff here,” Jake observed. “Liv and I had dinner here in, I dunno, maybe late April, early May. I only recognize the guy behind the bar.”
“We were a little early tonight, and Juliette came over to chat a while before you arrived,” Tilly replied. “She had some staff leave just before summer hit, and had to hire four new servers. I guess it tends to be kind of a transitional job for most people.”
Jake nodded as Deb came back with their drinks.
“Your food will be out in a while, they’re just a little backed up in the kitchen,” she apologized. “Friday night, you know? Enjoy those drinks.”
Jake sipped his IPA, the same local beer he always ordered at the marina bar near Liv and his house. Just the taste brought a flood of memories. Liv sitting at the bar with him or at a little table in the corner, her squeezing his knee, shoving fries into her mouth, laughing.
“Honey, we wanted to check in with you, but we also figured we need to talk about some stuff.” Tilly shot a sideways glance at her husband.
Now what?
Jake sat back in his chair. “What’s up?”
Liv’s mother took a sip of her wine, leaving a fuchsia-pink lipstick mark on the glass. She seemed to be bracing herself.
“The wedding plans, Jake. I know it was all finalized weeks ago, and we put the deposits down on the catering, the jazz band, equipment hire, and so on. Obviously, there’s no venue cost, with it being in our yard, but all the other expenses are a lot.
It’s just over four weeks away, and many of those deposits are non-refundable within twenty-eight days.
So we need to decide tonight about whether we’re going to keep those bookings in place. ”
Jake frowned, confused. “Huh? Why wouldn’t we?”
“Honey,” Tilly reached across the table, although Jake didn’t move.
He was beginning to see where this was going.
“We’re talking about tens of thousands of dollars.
Which Burt and I have always been more than happy to pay for, you know that.
But sweetie, Liv’s been gone nearly two months now, and there are no leads.
We can’t assume she’ll be back within the month.
And even if we did get her back in the next few weeks, the chances of her being in a fit state to get married on August 20th, considering what she might have been through—” she stopped, drew a deep breath, and soldiered on, “—they’re pretty low.
So, maybe it’s best to canc — postpone, until Liv is safe and well with us again. ”
They wanted to cancel the wedding. Fuck.
Jake closed his eyes, trying to grasp what Tilly was saying. Of course, there was an undeniable logic to it. But the idea of canceling his and Liv’s wedding . . .
“I–n-no,” he stuttered. “No way,” he said more firmly.
“I can’t cancel all our plans. Liv put so much work into making everything perfect.
She planned it to the last detail. And I know we don’t know where she is right now, but that’s today.
We might get her back next week, or tomorrow.
She might be fine for the wedding. I don’t want to ruin it all for her, not while there’s even the tiniest chance. I can’t do it.” He scowled. “No way.”
Burt’s expression, always stern, darkened further.
“Jake, son, it’s a lot of money. Nearly twenty thousand on deposits alone.
That’s money we’re gonna lose if the wedding doesn’t happen.
And we all know the chances of it going ahead on that date are small.
” He held up his hand as Jake tried to interrupt.
“Yeah, we may get her back in time, and we all want that, but it seems remote, given what we’ve been told.
Let us cancel, just for now, and we’ll make the exact same plans when we get Liv back.
If she wants to. I mean,” he blundered on, “we don’t know for sure she didn’t disappear voluntarily because she didn’t want to get married, because it was all getting too much. ”
Burt’s words were like a slap in Jake’s face. The last part particularly hurt because it was something Jake had obsessed over, many times.
“Of course she wanted to get married,” Jake said quietly. “She was so excited about the wedding. She didn’t leave me. Not by choice.”
“But Jake,” Tilly’s voice was soft. “She left her engagement ring. On the rocks at the quarry. It didn’t fall off by itself. It fit her perfectly.”
Jake had nothing left. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, further dampening his shirt.
He took a swig of his beer and gazed out of the doors toward the ocean, where the low evening sun was casting long, dancing shadows on a group of people playing frisbee at the beach.
He should’ve brought his surfboard, ditched dinner with the Graingers, and gone out on the cool water instead.
“She loves me,” he muttered, more to himself than to them.
“We know, honey,” Tilly replied. “Of course she does. She always has. But we have to be practical.”
Jake turned back to them. “I’ll pay you back for the deposits.
I’ll wire you twenty thousand bucks from our joint savings account as soon as I get home.
I didn’t ask you to pay for the wedding in the first place.
Liv and I can afford it. You insisted on paying, as parents of the bride, and Liv convinced me to let you, but there was no need.
I’d prefer to cover the deposits myself, then I’ll have full control of it.
And I’m not canceling. It would be a betrayal of Liv, our plans, our life together.
Please don’t make any calls to any of the suppliers, okay? ”
Burt exchanged glances with Tilly. He held up his hands. “Okay, son. If that’s your decision.”
“It is.” Jake rose, scraping his wooden chair back, swigging the last of his beer before standing up. “I’m sorry, I’m not hungry. Please excuse me, I need some air. I’ll make that transfer later. Sorry about the dinner.”
He didn’t wait for them to say goodbye, weaving through the tables to where Deb was carrying a tall burger and two plates of fish tacos toward them. “Sorry, we need to nix the burger and yam fries,” he told her, squeezing past.
“You want those to go?” she called after him, but he didn’t turn. He pushed out of the doors, past the platinum blonde with her mouth agape, and ran down the pier steps onto the sand, where he bent over, hands braced on his knees.
Jesus. Even Liv’s parents seemed to be giving up on her, and it hadn’t even been two months.
What was the standard amount of time for declaring somebody dead after they went missing? He’d been taught it at law school. Five years, that was it. Even that seemed too soon. Jake would never give up on Liv.
Ignoring the niggling feeling that Liv’s parents might have been right about some of the things they’d said, Jake strode across the sand, out of range of where the Graingers could see him from the restaurant.
The sun was lowering behind the buildings lining the shore, and the beachgoers were beginning to pack up. He followed the waterline, kicking off his sneakers, and rolling up his pant legs, allowing the few inches of ocean to rush over his feet as he walked.
They had done this a thousand times, Jake and Liv — gone for a date at the Beach House, then walked along the water’s edge, kicking up saltwater and sand at each other. He’d ruined a long white dress of hers that way, but she’d still laughed.
Even before they bought the fixer-upper near the beach, when they lived in the loft downtown, a half-hour drive away, they would come out here.
Liv would wait for him on the beach while he surfed on summer evenings and weekends, reading or sketching designs.
She’d always insist on walking a mile or so along the beach and back after he’d packed up the surfboard on top of the car.
“You’ve had exercise, but I haven’t,” she’d say. “Humor me.”
Jake would’ve been happy to humor Liv forever.
He wandered almost all the way down to Crystal Pier, two miles south of the fishing pier, before turning back along the sand.
The sky now had a burnt umber glow, the light fading fast. The surfers were long gone and a bunch of kids were in a circle, grilling meat over a disposable foil barbecue, one of them playing guitar.
The smell of their cooking made Jake’s stomach growl.
He should’ve taken Deb up on the offer of takeout. He had barely eaten all day, again.
He kicked his way through the surf, enjoying the pull of the sand beneath his feet as the ocean dragged it away. It was strangely gratifying how hard work it was compared with walking on solid ground. Like it gave him a purpose.
“Shift your butt, slowpoke,” he could almost hear Liv saying. “Stop making a meal of it.”
“Hey, I’ve got sixty pounds on you, my feet sink in further.” He’d stop in his tracks, crossing his in a pretense of petulance, and she’d walk back to him, flinging her arms around his neck.
“Yeah, you’re kind of a heifer.”
She’d kiss him, and he’d run his hands through her hair, devouring her.
One time it had been so late and dark on the beach, and their kissing had gotten so frenzied, his erection so hard, that he’d pulled her into the blackness under the fishing pier, thigh high in the water, the waves fighting against them.
He’d pushed her up against one of the concrete piles and lifted her soaking dress to the waist, removing her string bikini bottoms, stuffing them in his shorts pocket.
Then he’d unzipped his fly and fucked her right there against the pillar, the noise of her cries drowned out by the slap of the surf around them.
He’d exploded inside her like the crash of the ocean, collapsing against her drenched body while she’d laughed breathlessly and clung to him.
That had been less than a year ago.
For a couple who’d been having sex with each other for twelve years, their lovemaking only seemed to get better, more exciting.
God, he missed her.
He closed his eyes and held his hand out, as if she might take it.
Yeah, there she was. Just behind him. A fraction outside of his peripheral vision.
Just out of reach.