Page 36 of Key West Homecoming

“But it’s all I can give you today.”

Jake slid the envelope into his shirt pocket.

Then he picked up his beer.

“You want one?”

Emma blinked.

“A beer?”

“Unless you’d rather have more lemon water.”

She smiled.

“I’ll take the beer.”

Jake went inside.

Emma sat on the top step and slipped off her flats.

She hadn’t planned to stay. She’d intended to return the letter, thank him again and leave. Instead, she settled her bare feet on the step below and looked out at the yard.

The bougainvillea Jake had been trimming earlier was finished now. The cut branches were gone. His gloves and canvas bucket had been put away. Jake had watered the key lime tree, leaving a dark circle in the soil around its trunk.

She was still having trouble separating the cottage from her grandmother. In her memory, Gloria was responsible for everything here. The flowers bloomed because Gloria watered them. The porch was swept because Gloria swept it. The trim was white because Gloria decided it should be.

But Gloria had been gone for years.

Arthur certainly hadn’t been doing any of it.

Emma looked around the yard again.

Jake had.

She wondered how much of the cottage she’d recognized when she first pulled up had survived because of him.

The screen door opened.

Jake came out carrying another beer and an opener. He opened the bottle and handed it to her before sitting a few feet away.

Emma took a drink.

The beer was cold, the porch was quiet, and for the first time all day there was nothing she could do about anything until tomorrow.

That was an unfamiliar feeling. At home, she would have filled the time. She would have answered email, made a list or called someone who could move something forward.

There was nothing to move forward here.

Not tonight.

She looked toward the screen door.

This had been her grandmother’s porch once. Gloria had sat out here with iced tea and library books. Emma had played cards at a little table that used to stand near the railing. Her father had grilled fish in the backyard while Gloria told him he was burning it.

Those memories had always belonged to another part of her life.

Now Jake’s books sat on the table. His paintings leaned against the wall. His shoes were by the door.