Point Hope (9 page)

Then, they’d ordered the outdoor ping pong table, and even it was made of concrete. The steel net read
Sinclair
in swirly cut-out letters…which reminded her for a hurtful second that that could change at any time. But she had the here and now.

Alex won first serve and the game began. She didn’t care if she won or not, but she tried to concentrate and give Alex a good game.

“So what do you think about the baby living with us?” she asked, her eyes following the ball.

“Where else would she go?” he stated rather than asked.

Rosette couldn’t tell if that meant he didn’t mind, or that he didn’t want a baby here. Then she decided to take Alex at what he said. Where would Hope go? They were her family.

“She’s like me,” he added.

Rosette looked at him, missing the ball, and had to chase it down. “Hope is like you?” She snuck another glance at him, debating what to say.

“She doesn’t have her parents, just like I lost mine. At least I got to know my dad for a while before he died. She never even met her parents.”

Rosette thought that over as she hit the ball.

“Is Summer going to stay here too?” he asked. “I mean for a while?”

“Oh boy,” she said, then wished she hadn’t. Sometimes she talked to Alex more like he was an adult than one of the kids. “I’m not sure about that one. She doesn’t want to go back to Amanda’s, and she can’t pay the rent there anyway.”

“It’s not hurting anything for her to stay here in the fifth wheel.” A noise made Alex pause to listen. “Trey’s back. I’m going to go see if he needs help.”

They hadn’t finished the game or the conversation, but she didn’t stop him. Trey had gone to Amanda’s to pick up the rest of the baby clothes, diapers, and other supplies. He had insisted on going alone. Apparently he needed that. Or he didn’t want anyone to see if he got emotional. He was a typical male in that regard.

She checked on the kids and went upstairs. Trey and Alex were bringing things into the house, so she wanted to make sure there was room in the bedroom. She began organizing when the cover of a worn notebook caught her eye. She picked it up, wondering when she’d last written in it. She had called it both her idea book and goal book, filled with ideas, ambitions, and dreams.

Funny, she hadn’t thought about the notebook in a long time. She thumbed through it, not really planning to linger, but all her hopes and dreams cried out to her from the pages.

She’d written “Rosette’s Restaurant” across the top of one page.
Name TBA. A seafood shack? Or fine dining? Either would serve freshly caught seafood. Trey says there are too many seafood joints as it is. Would have to make it different somehow.

The following three pages were filled with drawings of what the restaurant might look like, items for the menu, and recipes she would try.

After a few blank pages, there was a full page of notes. At the top was scribbled, “His Waiting Arms.” It was her idea for a romance novel about two people who were in love, but couldn’t be together. For decades they’d loved each other in secret, hardly touching at all. She had sketched out several different plots that would keep them apart, but she had never actually started writing the story.

On the next page she’d written “a cross country trip for all of us, or maybe just me and Trey.” Below was a list of all the places she wanted to visit, from the Grand Canyon to Key West to Vermont’s Green Mountains. They’d taken several family vacations but never one driving across the United States. Sometimes she had eyed every location on that list and dreamed about going by herself. That was a silly idea, though.

So many ideas. At least she’d actually followed through with a few. She’d always loved to carve driftwood into animals, flowers, fish, and mermaids—anything really, revealing what the wood seemed to hide underneath. During the last few years she had placed some pieces in the local gift shops to sell to tourists. So far she’d sold quite a few small mermaid and marine-themed carvings but not any of the bigger, more expensive items. Actually she hadn’t sold anything in a year or so, but she’d kept carving when she had the time. That almost made her laugh—she had time like she had money-growing trees.

She had also started a family history book for the kids. It contained all the old family photos from Trey’s family. The Sinclairs had been fishermen three generations ago and were a part of the local history through the prime logging years. Coos Bay had been the world’s largest timber port until the bottom dropped out of the logging industry in Oregon a couple decades ago, taking the local economy with it. The book detailed generations of stories, from the mid-1800s up to the birth of Candice and Jake.

Now she wasn’t sure where she would fit in anymore—if they actually got a divorce. This was her husband’s family history…but she had never questioned sharing it until recently.

Rosette thought about Alex and where he fit in. That was easy—he was right in the middle of the family, the person all of them could talk to and a helper with the kids. After losing both his parents, he could have easily turned into a troubled kid. Somehow, even with all the loss and pain in his life, he looked at the bright side. At least, he always seemed to be cheering them up.

Summer was the complete opposite. Sure, her honey blond locks clearly contrasted with Alex’s dark hair, but Summer, from what Rosette knew, had been in trouble from a young age. Amanda had been the good girl, and Summer played her counterpart. Maybe she was trying to find her place in the world, but all the good roles were taken.  

Chapter Nine

Why was she doing this? And why couldn’t she stop?
Sarah knew if she kept walking by their house, someone would spot her.

Maybe she wanted to get caught.

Today she made sure not to pause in front of their house, but to keep slowly walking. She had yet to see the baby, but it was crazy to think that she would. Why would they parade the baby outside in this cold rain?

She made her pass by the house and kept walking, then turned and made the loop back toward her car. Sarah had hardly slept the last few days; she’d missed her college classes and even turned her phone off so her friends couldn’t call. When she’d run into Nicole from the nursing program, Sarah had told her she was dealing with a family emergency.

She reached her car and got in, but didn’t start the engine. The drizzle grew heavier, into a steady rain that blurred everything through the front window.

~  ~ ~

Another rainy Saturday afternoon. Imagine that in Oregon. When it tapered off, Alex went out the French doors and found Summer sitting outside the fifth wheel, smoking a cigarette. The smoke mingled with the mist hanging in the air. 

“Want to play ping pong?” he asked, waving a paddle in the air. He had wanted to play more with Rosette, but now she was helping Trey with baby furniture and supplies. Summer looked around, weakly gesturing to indicate the wet weather.

“Come on, the table’s covered. You won’t get wet.” He had helped Trey build the pavilion. The table was protected from the elements so they could play anytime, and the trees and house blocked the wind so the ball didn’t blow everywhere. Summer looked skeptically at the paddles for a minute.

“Sure.” She shrugged. “Why not.” She dropped the cigarette and smashed it with the sole of her shoe.

“Rosette probably wouldn’t like those out here,” he said, trying for a light tone. She just shrugged again. They started playing without pinging for first serve or even keeping score. It was just about hitting the ball back and forth.

“Trey and Rosette said you could stay here awhile?”

“Yup.”

“Cool.” He actually did like having someone around that was sorta close to his age, even if she thought they were from different planets or something.

“So…” he began. It took another minute before he got up the nerve to ask, “What did you do?”

“I killed a guy.”

He whacked the ball and sent it angling off into the yard somewhere.

She looked at him—staring at her—and burst out laughing. “Oh, my, God! You should’ve seen your face!”

She grabbed another ball from the bin and served. “It was just stupid stuff. Wasn’t even my idea, but I got caught and ended up serving time. I paid for it already.”

She was closing that topic of conversation, which, of course, made him even more curious.

“Hey, will you come with me to get my stuff?” she asked suddenly.

He was confused for a minute. “Oh, you mean from Amanda’s?”

She looked off toward the ocean. He always liked coming out here to watch the white lines of the distant waves marching in. It seemed peaceful from up here; it was loud and exciting down on the beach. A second passed and she shook herself. “Yeah, I’ll let you drive.”

He hesitated at that, trying to remember how old she was. Twenty-one?  He thought it was legal for him to drive with his learner’s permit with her. “Okay.”

They walked into the house together, and he looked for Rosette. She’d always been the parent that kept track of everybody. Before, it’d been because Trey was on active duty or training, or at work. Then it was because he was checking out mentally… but, come to think of it, he hadn’t done that since Ricky died. Trey had been here at the house and helping with everything. Alex kind of liked having Trey home more.

Rosette was doing the bounce-walk with Hope, back and forth in the living room. When he caught her eye, he mouthed, “I’m going with Summer to get her things.”

Rosette stopped. She clearly wanted to discuss it, but Hope was whimpering. It was that half cry babies do when they’re trying to sleep but their tummy or something hurts. He remembered that from the other kids. Rosette wouldn’t want to talk and risk waking up Hope. Finally she nodded.

Summer followed him into the garage to his car, where she stopped short.

“Does this thing run?” She didn’t look like she wanted to get in.

He pretended to be highly offended. “This is a 1985 Audi Quattro. It introduced all-wheel drive to racing… It runs great, actually. I haven’t painted it yet, but this thing is beautiful.” He’d sanded the exterior so it was ready for painting, when he had the money, that is.

They got in and he thought about pulling the picture from the glove box to show her how he envisioned painting it. The base would be white, and he’d add racing stripes so it’d match the real racing car in the photo.

Once he was out on the street, he revved the engine just enough to show off its power. A second later, he realized he was being an ass. She hadn’t wanted to drive for a reason. They were quiet as he drove down the street toward the highway. Then he noticed someone walking. That girl again.

“Do you know her?” he asked, moving his head in her direction. Suddenly it made sense—maybe Summer knew her, or even Amanda. She might have been their friend.

Summer twisted in her seat and looked back. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe she could be Amanda’s friend?”

Summer shook her head and went back to watching the scenery go by. The ocean was on his side, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. It was hard to think about other stuff with her in his car. He almost felt like the older one. She’d gotten into way more trouble than he ever had, but she didn’t seem that much older.

She gave directions, but that was the extent of their talking. Once there, he got out with her, thinking she wanted him to go inside too.

Summer unlocked the door, walked inside, and stopped. Alex stepped in behind her and shut the door. He wasn’t sure what she saw that made her stop and stare. Amanda’s place smelled stale, even though it wasn’t dirty or even that cluttered. They stood for a minute in silence.

“She called me that night,” Summer said, finally walking further into the room. She sat in a chair, still looking around. He wondered if she expected to see Amanda, or Amanda’s ghost. Alex turned and saw her expression, and he sat on the couch arm to listen. “The night she died. I was at a party, half drunk, and this guy was flirting with me. She sounded like she wanted me to come home, but I blew her off. I made excuses. I mean, I didn’t want to tell her I was drinking that much, or to hear her say I shouldn’t drive. So I just said people were parked behind me, and I needed to talk to a few more friends.”

He wanted to walk over and put an arm around her, but they weren’t that kind of friends. Besides, it’d probably stop her from talking, and she needed to get it out. She was quiet for so long he thought she might be done anyway. “And I was the next person who called you?” he asked.

He’d almost forgotten that he had called Summer that night, looking for answers after Rosette and Trey had rushed out.

Summer looked at him, like she was suddenly remembering he was in the room with her. “Yeah. I kept thinking about how her voice sounded. So sad. Scared. But there was something else. I could hear it, but I couldn’t figure it out with all the booze in the way.”

He waited a long moment to speak, but this needed said. “About your drinking…”

“I’m done.” She shook her head hard. “After that, I’m done for good!” She jumped up and walked down the hallway with the backpack she’d brought for packing.

He stood and grabbed the big duffle bag she’d also brought. She might tell him to back off, but he followed her, both afraid to leave her alone and wanting to talk to her more.

~  ~ ~

Trey stood in the living room, gazing out at the Pacific. He had an itch to go walk on the beach, maybe take the kids, even if it was a soggy day. The rain came and went, so they could possibly hit a dry spell. But it was his turn to stay with the baby and Rosette’s turn to get out of the house.

She walked into the room to announce, “We’re off.” The kids were behind her, bouncing and hyped up because they were going somewhere after a week of being home. It seemed like there had been plans for a movie or some other distraction.

“Where’s my hugs!” He called, pushing some animation into his voice and actions. The kids ran to him and he scooped them up, one in each arm, and planted kisses on them.