One Summer (14 page)

Around one o’clock they heard someone upstairs.

“Hello?” It was Jenna’s voice.

“Down here,” called out Jack.

She came down the steps carrying a large white bag.

She held up the bag. “Well, I hope you boys haven’t eaten yet.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Jack.

“Well, I’m glad you did. I’m hungry,” exclaimed Sammy.

Jenna smiled and unpacked two large turkey and cheese sandwiches, chips, pickles, cookies, and sodas on a table against a wall. While she did this, she gazed around the room. “Boy, you two have been busy.”

Jack nodded. “It’s going better than I thought it would. That means it’ll be less expensive for you.”

Sammy put down his tools, wiped off his hands on a clean
rag, walked over, and examined the food she’d brought. He bowed formally and said, “You are a goddess sent from above for two weary travelers.”

Jenna laughed. “It’s so nice to meet a real gentleman.”

Jack rinsed off his hands using a bottle of water and a rag and sat down across from Sammy. He looked at Jenna. “You didn’t bring yourself anything?”

“I always eat early before the lunch crowd gets in. Place is packed. Always is during the summer.”

“Looks like you have a gold mine there,” Jack noted.

She sat on a small hassock, crossed her legs, and said, “We do fine. But the profit margins are small and the hours are long.”

“Buddy of mine ran a restaurant,” said Sammy after he swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “Said it was the hardest work he’d ever done.”

Jack munched on a chip and said, “So why do you do it, then, Jenna?”

Jenna had on a black skirt and a white blouse. She’d slipped her heels off and was rubbing her feet. Jack’s gaze dipped to her long legs before quickly retreating. If she noticed, she didn’t react.

“I’m my own boss. I’m a people person. I admit I get a kick out of walking into the Little Bit and knowing it’s mine. And it’s something I can leave for Liam, if he wants it, that is. He’ll probably be off touring with a band. But it’ll be there for him.”

“Nice legacy for your kid,” said Sammy.

“I know about Jack, but do you have any children, Sammy?”

“No, ma’am. Uncle Sam was my family. That was enough.”

“Uncle Sam? You mean?”

Jack answered. “Sammy was in the army. ’Nam. After that, Delta Force.”

Jenna looked at Sammy in awe. “That’s pretty impressive.”

Sammy wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Well, Jack won’t tell you about himself because he’s too damn modest. So I’ll do the honors.”

“Sammy,” Jack said in a warning tone. “Don’t.”

“Two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star,” Sammy said, giving Jack a defiant look. He pointed to Jack’s bullet wound on his arm. “Purple for that.” He pointed to Jack’s scarred calves. “And a Purple for that. And the Bronze for saving a bunch of his buddies from an ambush that almost cost him his life.”

Jenna gazed at Jack, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. “That’s amazing.”

“What it was, was a long time ago.” Jack finished his meal and balled up the paper, putting it in the white bag she’d brought. “Really appreciate the lunch, Jenna.” He rose. “We need to get back to work, Sammy.”

Jack started cutting out more of the walls.

Jenna eyed Sammy.

In a low voice, he said, “He’s a complicated guy.”

As Jenna watched Jack attack the walls, she said, “I’m beginning to see that.”

Later that night, after the kids were asleep, Jack grabbed a flashlight and headed out to the lighthouse. He opened the door and shone his light around. He’d already gone through the boxes lining the walls, but now he walked up the rickety stairs carefully, testing each step before continuing on.

He heard scurrying feet and flashed his light in time to see a mouse rush past his foot. He kept going as the old wooden stairs creaked under his weight. He finally reached the top platform, directly under the access door that led into the space where the light mechanism was located.

As Jack moved his light around, it picked out things in the darkness; the images flew by like a reel of black-and-white film on an old projector. He stopped at one point and drew closer. It was an old mattress. He knelt down and touched it. Sitting on the mattress with its back against the wall of the lighthouse was an old doll. Jack reached down and picked it up. The doll’s hair was grimy and moldy, its face stained with dirt and water. Still, he looked at it as though it were a bar of gold. He
knew
this had been Lizzie’s. He’d seen her holding it in an old photo of her as a child.

He stood and moved the light around some more. His beam froze on a picture that had been drawn with what looked to be black Magic Marker on the wall. It was a little girl with pigtails and a huge smile. Under the figure was the name “Lizzie.” Next to the picture of the girl was a drawing of the lighthouse with the beam on. Above that was written the word “Heaven.” Jack noted that the lighthouse beam had been extended out to encompass the word.

He was about to move on when his light caught on something else. He knelt down and held the flashlight close to the wall. The image had been partially rubbed out, but Jack could still tell what it was. It was another drawing of a little girl, with pigtails. At first Jack thought it was merely a second drawing of Lizzie. But as he eyed the faded image more closely, he saw there was a major difference. In the drawing the little girl wasn’t smiling. Her mouth pointed downward.

“Not a happy girl,” whispered Jack. His gaze shot lower. He edged closer to read what was written there on the wall. Three letters: “T-i-l.”

It had to refer to Tillie, Lizzie’s twin sister, who’d died of meningitis. He sat back on his haunches and viewed the drawing in its entirety. The remaining letters had faded too badly to be read.

The drawing of the beam of light from the lighthouse extended outward but fell short of encompassing the image of Tillie. She remained firmly in the dark.

“You never found Heaven, Lizzie. And you never found Tillie.”

Jack felt tears creep to his eyes, and his lungs suddenly couldn’t get enough air.

Holding the doll under one arm, he pushed open the door that led to the catwalk encircling the top exterior of the lighthouse. Jack stared up at the dark sky. Heaven
was
up there somewhere. And, of course, so was Tillie.

And now Lizzie too.

He held up his hand and waved to her. And then, feeling slightly foolish, he let his hand drop but continued to stare up. Right this minute his wife seemed so close to him. He shut his eyes and conjured her face. It couldn’t possibly be more than six months since he’d heard her voice and her laugh, felt her skin or watched her smile.

It can’t possibly be that long, Lizzie.

He reached up. His finger covered a star that was probably a trillion light-years away and the size of the sun. But his finger covered it all. How close Lizzie must be to him, if he could cover up an entire star with his finger.

Heaven must be right up there.

He carefully set the doll down and slipped the envelope from his pocket. It had the number three written on the outside. The letter was dated December twentieth. He already knew what it said. He’d memorized every word of every letter. But if Lizzie could not read them, he would do it for her.

Jack paused for a moment as a solitary tear plunked down on the paper.

Jack slipped the letter into the envelope and put it back in his pocket. He picked up the doll and stared out over the ocean for a long time. He finally walked back down the stairs
and out into the humid night air. He stared up at the lighthouse.

Lizzie’s Lighthouse.

He walked back to the house, his heart full of thoughts of what should have been.

Mikki rolled over in her bed. Outside she could hear the breakers. The physics of waves crashing on sand had been completely foreign to her a short while ago. Now she’d grown so accustomed to their presence that she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be without the sound.

She yawned, sat up, and did a prolonged cat stretch. Glancing at her clock, she saw it was six thirty a.m. She liked to take her run around now so she could get back before her dad and Sammy left for work.

She slipped off the long-sleeve T-shirt she normally slept in and pulled on running shorts, a tank shirt, ankle socks, and sneakers. She made a pit stop at the bathroom and tied her hair back in a ponytail. On the way out she looked in on both her brothers, who shared a room at the end of the hall next to her dad’s bedroom. They were both still asleep. Cory was sprawled on his stomach, while Jackie was on his back, but with both legs bent so his covers made a tent.

She smiled as she listened to her brothers’ gentle snores.

As Mikki passed her dad’s room, she could hear him stirring.

She rapped on the door. “Dad, I’m going running. I’ll put the coffee on. Be back in about an hour.”

“Okay. Thanks,” came his sleepy response.

She put on the coffee and laid out two mugs for her dad and Sammy. The men got their own breakfast, but Mikki had been making her brothers’ meals. Sometimes it was just cereal. But other times she’d pull out the black skillet and whip up eggs, bacon, and something called grits, apparently a Southern thing, which her brothers had instantly loved but she couldn’t stand.

She bounced down the steps and passed through the dunes to the flat beach. She did a more thorough stretch and started her run. She kept to the hard, compacted sand, and her long strides carried her down the beach at a rapid clip. About a half mile into her run, Blake joined her. They talked as they ran. All normal subjects that teens gabbed about. She found herself liking him more, in spite of his association with someone like Tiffany Murdoch. He made her laugh.

He said his good-byes a few miles later and jogged back up to the street.

Mikki made her turn to head back toward the Palace when she saw someone out in the surf.

“Liam?”

She jogged down closer to the edge of the water as he stood up and waved.

“Early-morning swim?” she asked.

He high-stepped through the surf to stand next to her.

“Musicians and short-order cooks come here to keep in shape. And I’m not into running.”

She smiled and looked out at the water.

“My mom taught me to swim in a wading pool in our backyard,” she said.

“Always a good skill to have.” He brushed sand out of his hair. “You look like you’re working out. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Just a few more miles to go.”

“Miles! I’d be puking.”

“Come on! You look like you’re in awesome shape.”

“If I keep eating at the Little Bit, they’ll have to start wheeling me out of the kitchen.”

“My dad says the soundproofing is coming along.”

“Then we can really jam. And my mom won’t kill me.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Back at the Palace, Mikki showered and changed her clothes. Her dad had surprised her by making breakfast for everyone. Pancakes and ham.

“I help,” announced Jackie. He proceeded to pour about a gallon of syrup on his dad’s pancakes.

Before her dad and Sammy left, Mikki ran back up to her closet to get some things to take down to the beach later with the boys. Her bag spilled over, though, and when she started crawling around the floor picking things up, she noticed a loose floorboard near the rear of the closet. When she pressed the board up, she saw the edge of the photo. She pulled it out and studied the images. She went downstairs and showed her dad, who was finishing up his breakfast.

Jack looked at the picture of Lizzie as a young girl. She was surrounded by her family. A much younger Fred and Bonnie. And her siblings.

“See, Dad,” said Mikki. She pointed to one of the people in the photo.

“Yeah, honey, I see.”

“That was mom’s twin, right? The one who died?”

“Yes. Her name was Tillie.”

“Is that why they left here? Not because of Gramps’ job? But because it was so sad with her dying and all?”

“Yeah,” admitted Jack. “I guess that was part of it.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Cory or Jackie. And to lose a twin. It’s like you lost a part of yourself in a way.”

“I think you’re right.”

He held out his hand for the photo, but Mikki drew it back.

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

“No, sweetie, I don’t mind at all.”

“Bonnie?”

When Jack had opened the door in answer to the knock, his mother-in-law was the last person he expected to see.