Return to the Beach House (11 page)

“Maybe when you take someone out on a date, but this isn’t a date.”

“Since when?”

The question stopped her cold. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Finally she found the words she wanted. “Okay. But only if you let me buy lunch.”

“How is lunch not part of the date?”

“Don’t push it,” she warned.

“Carpos?”

“Nope—Pizza My Heart.” She thought a minute. “You do like pizza, don’t you?”

“I consider it one of the basic food groups. But I should probably warn you, I’m partial to New York pizza.”

“Yeah, and you thought you knew what a real milk shake tasted like before I took you to Carpos.”

He glanced at his watch. “We better get going. I have the horses reserved for one-thirty.”

“When did you do that?” she asked, blushing with pleasure.

“When I was getting dressed.”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

He grinned. “No problem.”

She opened the door and headed for her house to change clothes. “I’ll meet you at the truck.”

Christopher watched her go, a warning echoing in his mind that his involvement with her could easily turn into a huge mistake, one that he would regret for years to come. She wasn’t like any of the girls he’d met at summer camp. Believing for an entire month that he’d met the love of his life, he’d swear he would keep in touch and then promptly forget all about the girl as soon as the car door opened at home and his best friend showed up to go riding.

He didn’t know how he knew it, but Grace was different. She was the kind of girl you didn’t forget, the kind his advanced-English teacher said famous writers immortalized in novels. It was a crummy time to have her come into his life. Why couldn’t they have met a couple of years from now?

The thought that they could manage something long-distance flashed through his mind, but was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. Things like that didn’t even work out in movies.

Chapter 9

Kyle stopped to offer Alison a drink of water. They were on the outbound side of the loop to Pfeiffer Falls in Big Sur. It was the second hike they’d taken in the area in as many days. The redwood forest was everything Alison had dreamed it would be, with lush vegetation creating a thick bed of ground cover, streams running clear and cold, and waterfalls that made you want to put your hand out to feel their power. Best of all was sharing the experience with Kyle. He was the perfect tour guide, his eclectic interests covering everything from the history of the elephant seal in California to the best places to see wildflowers in the spring.

Being with him brought back memories of what it felt like to be with a man she liked. At one point she was stunned to realize she was actually flirting with him. It made her feel so good that she didn’t stop, even knowing the insanity of starting something she couldn’t finish.

She took a drink and handed the water bottle back to Kyle. Pointing to an innocent-looking plant, she asked, “Is that poison oak?”

He nodded. “And that.” He pointed to another cluster of leaves.

Alison gave the plants a wide berth. “How much farther to the falls?” she asked, spotting a sign with an arrow pointing straight ahead at the same time. Below the sign was a small metal plate warning to be on the lookout for mountain lions. She’d been watching for two days, but hadn’t seen any. Still, even knowing the danger, she couldn’t help wishing they’d at least catch a glimpse. Safely. She liked to think of herself as brave but not stupid. And she liked knowing Kyle felt the same way. He introduced her to bear spray, giving her a canister to carry and teaching her how to use it.

“Tired?” Kyle asked.

“Excited,” she said. “The pictures at the information kiosk were amazing.”

The day before, they’d spotted a couple of California condors riding the thermals near the entrance to the park. Even at a distance, their ten-foot wingspan made the birds look like soaring dragons. She’d watched them so long she’d gotten a crick in her neck.

Kyle kept insisting that he hadn’t had as much fun in years. He loved showing her places no one else he knew wanted to see. She told him it was a little like all the New Yorkers who’d never been to the top of the Empire State Building or visited Ellis Island. It had seemed only natural that she would offer to show him her part of the country—should he ever find himself in New York.

Expecting a polite excuse for not taking her up on her offer, she was surprised when he asked, “Would fall be a good time to visit?”

The sun was headed for the offshore cloud bank that would be tomorrow’s morning fog when they were on Highway 1 headed north again. A mile or so after crossing Bixby Creek Bridge, Alison’s phone chirped, letting her know that she was back in service and that she had a message.

“Sorry,” she told Kyle. “I need to check this.”

“I understand.”

She looked at her missed calls and saw that the first two were from Linda—undoubtedly filled to bursting with gossip after last night’s charity ball. The third was from Nora and the fourth from Christopher. She listened to Nora’s first and was relieved there wasn’t any crisis—Nora just wanted to let Alison know that they were leaving Italy and headed for France. Next, she picked up the one from Christopher.

“Hey, Grams—I need to talk to you about all this running around you’ve been doing. Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me? Feeding me? Washing my clothes? Making my bed? What’s up with you taking off like you’re on vacation or something?

“Just kidding. I’m glad you’re having fun. You are having fun, aren’t you?

“I know we’re supposed to have dinner together tonight, but I was wondering if it would be okay if we made it tomorrow night instead. I forgot that Grace invited me to a party at her friend’s house and I said okay. Can you believe it? When was the last time I had a weekend I wasn’t competing or traveling when I was able to go to a party?

“Call me.”

Alison smiled as she used her shirttail to wipe fingerprints off her phone. “It appears I’ve been stood up. Christopher has a date tonight.”

“Great,” Kyle said. Realizing it might not be the best response, he added, “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“I’m thrilled,” she said. “He’s actually acting like a kid instead of a seventeen-year-old going on forty.”

“So does that mean if I were to ask you to go out to dinner you’d consider it? Carmel has some of the best restaurants on the West Coast.”

She looked down at her hiking boots and jeans. They were a good hour and a half away from Santa Cruz. By the time she picked up her car at Kyle’s house in Carmel and drove all the way home to get cleaned up, and then all the way back again, it would be midnight and even the European-style restaurants would be closing. “I can’t go like this.”

“You’re perfect for the place I have in mind.”

And she was.

Kyle’s house was perched on a rocky outcropping overlooking the ocean. It was one of the few Carmel houses on the ocean side of Scenic Road that had direct water access. The view was as open as structurally possible, which made the house appear larger and a part of the landscape. Alison had fallen in love with the rugged, volatile coastline that marked this area of California.

Inside, the house was decorated in tans, grays, and soft greens. The furniture was simple but classic, and beautifully finished to a soft shine. Alison had felt a welcoming warmth the minute she crossed the threshold, something that rarely happened in the overly decorated homes of her friends.

“Ready?” Kyle asked, joining her at the window.

“How did you do this?” she asked.

“What?”

“Create this feeling of peace.”

He stood closer, their arms touching, their images reflected in the glass as if they’d stood that way a hundred times before. “It was important for the girls to feel a sense of home without seeing their mother everywhere they looked. I didn’t want this house to be a shrine, but a place where they could and would remember her without being overwhelmed by those memories.”

“And the furniture?”

“If it’s wood, I made it, including the fireplace mantel. The girls picked out everything else.”

“I noticed you don’t have any pictures of Jenny.”

“They’re in the hallway and bedrooms.”

Alison thought about her house and how every room had pictures of Dennis and Peter displayed on walls, tables, and bookshelves. With the exception of a couple of upholstered pieces, the furniture hadn’t been replaced in twenty years. Without conscious thought, she’d created a shrine.

She forced a smile. “So you’re a woodworker.”

“Passed down from my father, who owned a cabinet shop for over forty years. When he retired, he and my mother moved to Africa, going wherever they were needed in over a dozen refugee camps. She’s a nurse and works in the clinics. Dad spends his time building classrooms and teaching carpentry.”

“And they’re still there?” She did some quick calculating and realized they had to be in their eighties.

“They come home once a year, at Christmas. I arrange meetings with as many businesspeople, church leaders, and friends as I can so my mother can solicit funds to keep the clinics going. It’s never enough, but people give what they can, and she’s wonderful about keeping in touch so everyone knows exactly how their money is being spent.”

“You and the girls must miss them.”

“My mother finds a way to hook up to the Internet two or three times a month. She’s convinced Skype was invented with her in mind.” He leaned in close and nudged her playfully with his elbow. “Enough about me. Let’s get out of here and see what’s washed up on the beach while we were eating dinner.”

She looked outside at the full moon sitting low on the horizon and at the shimmering path it created across the water. “Finders keepers?”

“If it bites, it’s yours.”

She laughed. “I can hardly wait.”

They followed a path along the rocky crest. For the moment, there was no wind, only the sounds of birds gathering for the night and waves clearing the remnants of the day’s footprints. At the end of another hundred yards, the path led them to a wider beach, as deserted as the first.

“The end to a perfect day,” Alison said.

Kyle reached for her hand. “I’m glad you think so.”

They walked that way for several minutes. “I realize we barely know each other,” he said, “but I like the way I feel when I’m with you. I keep waiting for something to happen that will change my mind about what I’m feeling, but being with you every day just keeps getting better and better.”

He stopped and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to go way out on a limb here and assume you feel the same way.”

She did, but was hesitant to say so.

Kyle offered her an apologetic smile. “Too soon?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him yes, that she needed time, when she surprised them both by saying, “No . . . I like the way I feel when I’m with you too.”

“So what are we going to do about this elephant in the room?”

“The only thing we can—talk about it.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a long time. “Should I go first?”

“Please.”

He took a deep breath before he started, plainly going somewhere that wasn’t an easy journey. “Jenny was the love of my life. From the day I met her I never strayed, either mentally or physically—wasn’t even tempted. She was all I ever wanted or needed.”

They came to a weathered bench nestled against a large rock retaining wall. Kyle cleared sand from the rustic wood as best he could. She sat down first and then he joined her.

“What happened?” Alison asked gently after they’d been there several minutes.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’d think after all these years the telling would get easier.”

“There are times I feel like I’m going to punch the next person who asks me how Dennis died.”

Even now, she continued to meet these kinds of people. No matter where she went at home, somehow someone found out she was one of “them.” Either one-on-one, or in a group, the questions would start—which building, which floor were Dennis and Peter on, why were father and son together that day, were any of their remains ever found, how did she feel about the memorial, and on and on and on. After what should have been strictly personal details were revealed, inevitably the questions would continue with someone asking if she’d signed the papers saying she wouldn’t sue the airlines, how much money was involved in the settlement—for some bizarre reason, this was always asked by a man—did the settlement change according to the life insurance payout, and on and on some more. It was as if bearing witness to her private grief would somehow lead to an understanding of something they couldn’t comprehend any other way.

“It was a stupid accident,” Kyle said. “Never should have happened.” He leaned back again. “She’d stopped for a cup of coffee. The lid wasn’t on tight. It spilled. When she tried to clean it up, she unconsciously moved the steering wheel to the right—not far, just enough to catch the front tire on a curb. The car rolled a couple of times and ended up on the opposite side of the road in the middle of oncoming traffic.” He ran his hand across his face.