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“What happened?”
“What kind of way is that to answer the phone?” I say, descending the last few steps and heading straight for the kitchen.
“Sorry, I’m just a little desperate to find out what’s going on over there. Is Abby there yet?”
“No, she’s still on her way.” I grab a pad of paper and a pen out of a junk drawer in the kitchen and I head for the pantry to make a grocery list. I’ll text it to Chris as soon as I’m off the phone.
“What are you planning to do with her? Just pretend like the last eighteen years never happened?”
“I can’t erase the last eighteen years and, honestly, I don’t want to. They’ve taken such good care of her, Senia. You have to come down for the bonfire next weekend. You have to see how beautiful she is. And she’s so smart and… I just don’t know what I’m going to do when she goes home.”
“Oh, Claire. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken again.”
I jot down a few missing items on my list, then I come out of the pantry and head for the kitchen sink. I gaze out the window at the waves breaking on the sand and I try to imagine what it would be like to lose Abby a second time. But I can’t.
“I know it sounds crazy, but I think you have nothing to worry about. Just promise me you’ll come for the bonfire on Saturday. I need to introduce Abby to her Aunt Senia.”
“Oh, you slut. You made me cry.”
After I end the call with Senia and text the grocery list to Chris, I lay my phone on the kitchen counter and step outside through the front door onto the porch overlooking the ocean. The sun has almost set, so the evening breeze is starting to pick up, lifting the hairs around my face. I admire the waves while I make a mental list of things I need to do to prepare for the bonfire.
“Mom?”
I spin around and Junior is standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
He smiles and steps outside, then he wraps his arms around my shoulders. “Just wanted to give you a hug.”
He’s already an inch taller than me, so I squeeze him around the waist as hard as I can. “You’re getting so tall. Pretty soon you’re going to leave me, too.”
“I won’t leave you, Mom.” I squeeze him hard and he laughs. “I swear. I’m not going anywhere.”
I let him go and Abby and Caleb are standing just inside the open front door. But she’s not looking at Junior and me. She’s mesmerized by the ocean. She steps outside slowly, her gaze fixed on the crashing waves.
I want to take her hand and wade out into the water with her, the way I used to do when the kids were too small to go in the ocean alone. But that would be awkward at her age. Wouldn’t it?
I reach out my hand slowly and she stares at it for a moment before she takes it. “Come on. The water’s very warm at this time of day.”
She nods and we head down the long wooden ramp toward the beach, Caleb and Junior following closely behind us. The breeze gets cooler and the briny smell of the ocean gets stronger the closer we get to the shore. When we reach the water’s edge, Junior and Caleb strip off their T-shirts and shoes, then they race into the waves in their shorts. Abby and I kick off our sandals and she looks a bit apprehensive about going into the water.
That’s when I remember something someone once told me when I was a bit scared of the roaring surf at this beach.
“A good friend of mine once told me to pay attention to the rhythm and movement of the water. Once you figure out the pattern, it’s not so scary.”
I hold out my hand to her again and I’m surprised when she takes it. We head for the water, her in her shorts and me in my knee-length skirt. But the moment the water touches her feet, she yelps.
“Oh, my God. Something touched me!”
I chuckle as a piece of seaweed washes ashore next to her foot. “It’s just seaweed. Are you okay?”
She laughs and steps away from the limp sea plant. “I’m fine.”
We take a few more steps, until the water kisses the hem of my skirt. She yelps a few more times when some more seaweed gets tangled on her ankle. And I have to admit that I’m almost glad for the seaweed when she grabs onto my arm with both hands, as if I can protect her from the slimy plants.
With each tiny wave that crashes into our legs, I see her relax a little more. Until finally, she’s gazing at Junior and Caleb, who are about twenty yards farther in, and she smiles. “This is beautiful.”
“This is yours, for as long as you want to stay here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
RYDER AND I come home to find everyone, except Jimi, sitting in the living room watching TV in their pajamas. They’re all sporting damp hair, which tells me they must have gone to the beach then showered. Claire smiles and jumps off the sofa to greet us at the door. Caleb quickly removes his arm from around Abby and stands up.
“Do you need some help?” he offers, and I try not to look annoyed when I nod.
It makes no sense for me to be upset that Caleb is so important to Abby. It’s not as if he’s taking my little girl away from me. She was never mine, until she showed up at my house yesterday morning. I just can’t shake this feeling that she’s only here temporarily. And if she’s sitting there, curled up on the couch watching TV, it should be my arm around her. Caleb will probably always have her, but this may be my only chance.
Once we get the groceries inside, Claire takes the pillows upstairs to get the freshly laundered linens on Abby’s bed in Jimi’s bedroom. Abby, Caleb, Ryder, and Junior head back to the living room to finish whatever they were watching, but I stop Caleb before he can leave the kitchen.
“We need to talk. Come with me.”
Abby and Ryder look over their shoulders at Caleb as they continue toward the living room, both of them wearing a look of pity for poor Caleb. I watch as Ryder seizes the opportunity to sit next to Abby on the sofa and the sight takes my breath away. I might as well be dreaming. None of this feels real. Well, except for the unfortunate conversation I’m about to have with Caleb.
“Come on,” I beckon him as I head toward the door on our right. The library.
The beach house isn’t big enough for a studio, so I had the acoustic insulation installed inside the walls of the library and this is where we keep the baby grand piano and the guitars. I shut the door behind Caleb as he enters and his eyes are wide as he looks around the room.
Three of the four walls in the library are covered from floor to ceiling in bookshelves, which display Claire’s enormous collection of books. The outside wall has two large bay windows with bench seats for reading nooks. The portion of wall between the two windows is covered in frames displaying gold and platinum albums. Right in front of that wall is the baby grand piano. Off to the left is a mahogany leather sofa; to the right are two leather armchairs. In the corner is a display of five different guitars on stands.
“This is amazing,” Caleb remarks as he’s pulled toward the guitars. “Is that a… Is that a ’68 Stratocaster?”
I laugh at this. “Yes, it’s a ’68, but it’s not the ’68 Stratocaster you’re thinking of. Not that I haven’t tried offering the Allen family ridiculous sums of money for Jimi’s Strat, but they aren’t interested in money. Sit,” I say, pointing at the sofa.
He swallows hard then heads over to sit down. “Is this about Abby? I didn’t even realize I had my arm around her. I won’t let it happen again.”
I shake my head as I sit on the piano bench with my back to the keys. “It’s not about you having your arm around Abby’s shoulders. This is about you…” Oh, God help me. “This is about you and Abby having sex… while you’re here.”
“No, sir. We don’t plan on doing that. I swear. We haven’t even had sex yet.”
I hold up my hand so he doesn’t go into further detail. “Okay, I believe you. I just want to make sure you know that I can’t have that in my house. As much as I’d like to believe that Abby is my daughter, at this point, I’m just her steward. So while you two are here, it is my duty to make sure Abby do
esn’t do anything that she wouldn’t do in her… her other parents’ home. You understand?”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good. You’re excused.”
He eyes me warily as he stands from the sofa as if I’m trying to trick him into turning his back on me. Once he’s standing, he doesn’t head for the door. He just stares at the guitars in the corner.
“Do you think it would be okay if I played it? Just to try it out?”
“The ’68?”
