One Summer (17 page)

He put down his tool and took a sip of coffee. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

She eyed him with mock caution. “Should I be scared?”

“No.”

“Then shoot.”

“Ever think about getting married again?”

“I’ve thought about it, sure.”

“I mean, from what you’ve said, you’ve been divorced a while. You’re young, well-off, smart, and educated. And… really pretty.”

“Can I hire you as my publicist?”

“I’m serious, Jenna.”

She put her cup down, sat, and covered her bare knees with her robe. “There have been some men interested in a permanent relationship with me. Some right here in Channing.”

“But?”

“But they weren’t the right ones. And I’m a woman who’s willing to wait for the real Mr. Right. Especially considering how
wrong
I got it the first time.”

Jack picked up his tool again. “Lizzie and I met in high school. We would’ve celebrated our seventeenth wedding anniversary this year.”

“Sounds like you found Mrs. Right on your first try.”

“I did,” he said frankly.

“I suppose that makes the loss that much harder.”

“It does. But I’ve got our kids to raise. And I have to do it right. For Lizzie.”

“And you, Jack. You’re part of the equation too.”

“And me,” he said. “I hope you find Mr. Right.”

“Me too,” said Jenna wistfully, as she stared at him.

Sammy turned to Jack and said, “I think it’s time to knock off. It’s almost midnight.”

“You go on. I’m just going to finish up a few things.”

They were in the lighthouse. After working most of the last three days at Anne Bethune’s house, Sammy and Jack had eaten a hasty dinner and worked another four hours on the lighthouse. They had cleared out all the wood from the collapsed stairs and assembled the scaffolding up to the top platform, which also needed repair. Fresh lumber delivered from Charles Pinckney’s hardware store was neatly stacked outside in preparation for the rebuilding process.

“Jack, you’ve put in sixteen hours today. You need to get some rest.”

“I will, Sammy. Just another thirty minutes.”

Sammy shook his head, dropped his tool belt on the lower level of the scaffolding, stretched out his aching back, and walked slowly to the Palace.

Jack tightened down some of the scaffolding supports and
then climbed up to the top and stepped out onto the catwalk. What he was trying to imagine was how Lizzie the little girl would have thought of the view from up here.

“Were you scared at first, Lizzie? Did you think you might fall? Or did you love it the first time you saw it?” He stared out at the dark ocean and let the breeze wash over his face. He eyed the sky, looking for the exact spot where little Lizzie had imagined Heaven to be perched. And also where her twin sister had gone.

And now where you are, Lizzie.

Farther out to sea he could see ship lights as they slowly made their way across the water. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts carried back to that frozen cemetery four days after Christmas, when they’d laid Lizzie into the ground. She was there right now, alone, in the dark.

“Don’t, Jack,” he said. “Don’t. Nothing good will come from dwelling on that. Remember Lizzie in life. Not like that.”

He looked to his right and was surprised to see someone walking along the beach. As the person drew closer, Jack could see that it was Jenna. She was holding her sandals in one hand, slowly swinging them as she walked close to the waterline. He looked at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. What was she doing out here?

She suddenly looked up and under the arc of moonlight saw him. She waved and started toward the rocks.

She called up to him. “Working late?”

He said, “Just finishing up a few things. Surprised to see you out.”

“I sometimes take a walk on the beach after closing down the Little Bit. Helps to relax me.” She gazed at the lighthouse. “Heard you were fixing it up.”

“Trying.” He added, “Guess it seems pretty crazy.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” she said, surprising him.

“Why?”

“I just think it’s a good idea. That’s all.” He didn’t say anything. “By the way, you did a great job on the soundproofing. Can’t hear a thing. It’s raised the quality of my life a thousand percent. And I won’t have to kill my only child.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Well, I guess I better head back.”

Jack looked down the dark beach from where she had come. “Do you want me to walk back with you? It’s pretty dark out there.”

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s a safe place. And you look like you have some thinking to do still.”

Before he could say anything, she’d turned and walked off. He slowly climbed back down the scaffolding. When he touched bottom, he passed through the doorway and then turned and looked at the hand-painted sign.

“I’m going to get it working,” he said. “Lizzie, I promise that this light will work again. And then you can look down from Heaven and see it.”

And maybe see me.

“Oh, great,” said Mikki. It was Saturday night and she was at the beach party Blake Saunders had invited her to. There were lots of people already there, and one of them was Tiffany Murdoch, holding court by the large bonfire that spewed streams of embers skyward. There were quite a few large young men in football jerseys and teenage girls in short shorts, tight skirts, and tighter tops. A catering truck was parked on the road near the beach. Mikki, who’d brought a blanket and a bag of marshmallows, looked on in shock as men and women in white jackets carried trays of food and drinks around to the teens partying on the sand.

Blake spotted her and strolled over, a bottle in his hand.

“Hey, glad you could make it.”

“Never been to a beach party that was catered before,” she said in a disapproving tone.

“I know. But Tiffany’s dad is a big football booster, and he pays for the party every year.”

“So I guess that’s why Tiff’s here?”

“Oh, yeah. The center of attention as always. A real queen bee.”

“Bees sting,” Mikki shot back.

“What’s in the bag?” he said.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, hiding the bag of marshmallows behind her.

He held up the bottle. “Want a taste?”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“It’s not alcohol.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

A little put off, he said, “Well, there’s plenty of food and drink. Help yourself and then come join us.”

He left, and Mikki went to the tables manned by other adults in white jackets. She asked for a Coke. The woman, weathered looking with stringy gray hair, poured it out for her.

“Thank you,” said Mikki.

The woman looked surprised.

“What?” asked Mikki. She looked down at her jeans and T-shirt. “Something wrong?”

“You’re not with that group, are you?” said the woman quietly.

“No, we just came down from Ohio for the summer. Why?”

“You said thank you.”

“And that’s, like, unusual?”

The woman eyed the partygoers. “With some folks it’s apparently impossible. Ohio? Are you Cee Pinckney’s folks?”

“She was my great-grandmother. I’m Mikki.”

“Nice to meet you, Mikki. Ms. Pinckney was a fine lady. Sorry she’s gone.”

“I take it you live in Channing?”

“All my life, but just not the postcard part.”

“What?”

“You know the part you see on postcards? I live in the area tourists never see. We can’t afford the pretty ocean views.”

“Would that be Sweat Town?”

“So you’ve heard of it?”

“Somebody told me. Sounds like where we lived in Cleveland. What’s your name?”

“Folks call me Fran.”

“It was nice talking to you, Fran.”

“Same here, honey.”

She turned away to serve someone else.

Troubled by what Fran had told her, Mikki strolled around the pockets of people, many of whom were already wasted. The boys looked at her with lust, the girls with hostility.

Why did I come?

“Well, look who we have here.”

Inwardly groaning, Mikki closed her eyes and then opened them. Things were about to get worse.

Tiffany stood in front of her, swaying slightly, plastic cup filled with beer in hand. She had on a string-bikini bottom with a mesh cutoff jersey that barely covered her chest. “What’s your name again?”

Between gritted teeth she said, “Mikki.”

“Oh, like Mickey Mouse.” Tiffany giggled and looked around at the others and made an exaggerated bow. “Mickey Mouse, people.” Laughter swept through the ranks of the partiers. A nervous-looking Blake ran up and put his arm around Tiffany’s bare waist. “Hey, Tiff, let’s go get something to eat.”

“Not hungry,” said Tiffany with a pout. Mikki could sense
this was her method of getting what she wanted. Putting her thick lips together and acting like a two-year-old.

Mikki looked at the beer and then eyed Tiffany’s red convertible parked by the catering truck. “Hope you’re not the designated driver.”

“I can be anything I want,” Tiffany replied, a coy smile on her face.

Blake pulled on her arm. “Come on, Tiff, let’s get some food. You don’t want to piss off your dad again, remember?”

“Shut up!” snapped Tiffany. She looked at Mikki. “I hear you and Blake have been running together on the beach.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I was just surprised.”

“Why’s that?” Mikki asked, a hard edge to her voice.

“I didn’t think he liked hanging out with freaks.”

Mikki eyed the other girl’s scant clothing. “You know, next time you might want to consider something that actually comes close to covering your big butt.”

“Shut up!”

“Okay, I’m leaving now.” Mikki turned to walk away.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Tiffany grabbed her shoulder. Mikki’s arms and legs seemed to move of their own accord. Her hand clamped like a vise on the other girl’s wrist. Mikki spun the arm behind Tiffany’s back, jerked upward, angled one of her feet in front of Tiffany’s legs, and gave a hard shove from behind. The next moment Tiffany was lying facedown in the sand, her mesh top up around her head.

Blake looked at her in amazement. “How’d you do that?” he asked Mikki.

Mikki looked down at her hands as if they belonged to someone else. “My… my dad taught me.”

They both looked down at Tiffany, who was spitting out sand and crying. Other people were walking toward them.

“I’m outta here,” said a panicked Mikki.

She turned, pushed past some folks, and raced off. As she passed by Fran, the woman winked at Mikki and raised a serving spoon in silent salute.

Hurrying down the beach, Mikki collided with someone who appeared, ghostlike, out of the darkness.

“Liam?”

The tall, gangly Liam had on a hoodie and sweatpants.

“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly.

“Walking. What about you?” He looked over her shoulder in the direction of the party Mikki had just left. “Tiffany’s party? Don’t tell me you’ve gone over to the dark side?” he said with a grin.

“It was stupid,” admitted Mikki.

“Well, if you want to come with me, I’ll show you a much better party.”

“What?”

“But I have to warn you, they don’t have caterers.”

“How’d you know Tiffany’s party was catered?”

“Because my mom did it for a couple years until little Tiffany demanded alcohol be served. Then my mom told old man Murdoch where to stick it.”

“Good for her.”

“Yeah, funny, for some reason, after that, I never got invited to her little shindig. Well, enough about the rich and the spoiled. Let’s get going.”

He started to walk off, and Mikki hurried after him. “Where to?”

“Like I said, a better party.”

The breakers crashed on the beach, providing a slow, melodious chorus to their footsteps slapping against the hard, wet sand. The sounds and the lights reached them about a quarter of a mile down the beach.

“Is that the better party?” she asked.

“Yep.”

As they drew closer, the scene became clearer. The bonfire was full and the flames high. Girls and guys sat around the fire holding out sticks with hot dogs and marshmallows riding on their points. Mikki could hear a guitar strumming and sticks popping on a drum pad. Laughter and whoops amid the crash of waves. There were a few couples making out, but most were just hanging out, talking and dancing.

“Hey, Liam,” said one guy as he approached them. “Everyone was hoping you’d make it.” He handed them each a long stick. “Dogs are cooking.” They joined the crowd. Mikki could see a few football jerseys, but most were dressed in jeans and T-shirts. There were no designer labels in sight. Everyone greeted Liam with high fives, chest bumps, and knuckle smacks.

“Pretty popular guy,” Mikki remarked.

“Nah, the guys think my mom is hot, and the girls want jobs at the Little Bit. They’re just looking to use me.”

Mikki laughed. “So do all of you go to high school together?”

“Yeah. But most of these kids are from Sweat Town, which I find a lot more palatable than Tiffany’s mansion crowd.” Liam eyed the two guys playing the guitar and the drum pad. He looked at Mikki. “Want to really get this party cooking?”

She instantly got his meaning. “Oh, let’s
so
do it.”

They played for nearly thirty minutes while the crowd whooped and cheered.

Mikki sang parts of a song she was working on and that the crowd really got into, even chanting back parts of the lyrics. Then Mikki grabbed the drumsticks and showed herself to be nearly as adept at drums as she was at guitar. Even Liam looked at her in amazement when she finished her set. She explained, “When I formed my band, I learned every instrument. I’m sort of a control freak.”

Afterward they roasted some hot dogs. When someone started playing tunes off a portable CD player, Liam said, “Hey, you want to do some sand dancing?”

“What’s that?”

“Uh, it’s really complicated. It’s dancing in the sand in your bare feet.”

She smiled. “I think I can manage that.”

He put both arms around her waist, and she put her hands on his shoulders. They moved slowly over the beach.