A Time to Surrender (8 page)

Fib number two: knowing Cade would be at the beach had no impact whatsoever on her decision to brave the late summer hordes and sweltering heat or wear her electric blue print sundress that showed a little more of her long legs than her typical school attire.

Fib number three: she wanted to thank Danny in person for taking the time to teach surfing to Cade’s special group of juvenile delinquents.

Were three fibs enough to send her to hell? Danny would have the answer. Not that she was about to ask him. She needed the lies. Without them she’d be forced to give up the reprieve Cade Edmunds offered, a time-out from a loneliness that had grown unbearable.

“Ha!” Cade chuckled. “Those waves ought to take my obnoxious whippersnappers down a notch or two.” He was talking about the four boys he’d brought to the ocean. They were heading out into the water now, surfboards in tow, huge waves in the distance.

Jenna turned to Cade and instantly regretted coming. He was too attractive in his flip-flops, shorts, T-shirt, and sunglasses, his face glistening with sweat. Mr. Ice Guy’s rare expression of enjoyment was downright provocative.

Watching the ocean, he said, “Your brother and his friend are something else. Did you know they won’t let me pay a dime for the lessons or the boards?”

“That’s Danny and Hawk. They both have hearts of gold. When Hawk was a teenager, he was just like these guys.”

“A wannabe gang member, huh? I sensed that about him. He had an instant rapport with the kids. Danny’s good with them, too, but I bet he’s always been a straight arrow.”

“Annoyingly squeaky-clean. If he wasn’t doing homework, he was surfing.”

He smiled, his face toward the newbie surfers.

Jenna watched them as they paddled out into the surf. Danny and Hawk waded alongside them, guiding the boards. The experience should be a treat for the guys, all from broken and poverty-stricken families. They lived a mere twenty minutes from the coast but rarely got the chance to visit it, let alone learn how to surf from a pro.

She said, “I still can’t believe you pulled this off.”

Cade shrugged. “No big deal. When I mentioned I wanted to give nonfootball players an outlet and you said your brother never did team sports, he just surfed, a light went on. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. One phone call to my friend in Sacramento and my four chief boneheads are having a healthy time of their lives.” He referenced a statewide program for disadvantaged students. It included a local supervisor who was coming later.

She grinned. “You did emphasize to these guys that Danny’s my brother, right? That their sixth-hour English teacher is partly responsible for this great day they’re having?”

“You sound desperate to make points with these guys.” He took a swig from his water bottle and grinned back at her.

“You think it’s funny, sticking me with all four in one class.”

“Not funny.” He looked at her. “You needed a challenge. You’ve been skating for six years with the ‘Yes, ma’am, whatever you say, ma’am’ kids.”

She stuck out her tongue at him.

“Trust me, Jen, by the end of this school year you’ll have them eating out of your hand.”

She held back a smart retort because—fib number whatever—she was not, absolutely not, flirting.

Turning again toward the water, Cade likewise fell silent.

Fib: it was not a comfortable silence between them.

Fib: she would go home soon.

If Kevin were there at home, she would go. If he were calling today, she would go. If she knew there was mail from him, electronic or snail, she would go. If the apartment did not resound with earsplitting echoes of his absence, she would go. She would.

And that was the truth.

J
enna lingered at the beach.

She and Cade moved to the water’s edge. At his insistence, she sat in his low-set beach chair. He plopped down in the sand beside her.

They laughed as again and again the boys tumbled off the surfboards, skinny legs and arms flailing. When one finally managed to stay upright for a few seconds, Cade whistled and cheered.

Jenna said, “You really are great with them.”

“Thanks. They remind me of myself at that age. What I want to do is fill in the gaps for them. Be the dad they don’t have.” It was the closest he ever came to revealing personal background.

Everyone knew he had grown up in a tough Los Angeles area, supposedly fatherless, and carved a way out. His unorthodox approach to the role of principal often took people aback. He got results, though, and the superintendent and board members cut him a lot of slack. He was single but would sometimes bring a date—never the same one—to faculty social events. The man remained for the most part an unknown.

She said, “Who filled in gaps for you?”

He waited a beat, his mouth a straight line. “A teacher here, a coach there, a dean.”

Abruptly he stood and stepped ankle deep into the water. Waving his arms, he let out another fingerless, piercing whistle and shouted, “Nelson! Way to go!”

Kevin was like Cade, wanting to save every kid who crossed his path. When he saw boys from his classes and teams graduate and enlist, he felt compelled to go with them. It was why he reenlisted with the Marines. His students would be graduating and enlisting. To continue playing football while they and other young guys went off to war became unthinkable for Kevin.

Men.

Jenna’s only goal was to get her students to write a complete sentence and read a poem before the year was over.

Faint music reached her ears above the noise of the surf. It was the theme from the old television show
Bonanza
. Her grandparents were calling?

She pulled the cell phone from her bag, guessing her phone-challenged grandfather was not on the other end. “Nana?”

“Jenna, dear, where are you?”

“At Danny’s beach. He’s surfing with some kids from my school.”

“You’re not alone, then?”

“Hardly. It’s packed. Nana, you sound odd. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Maybe the word is—” Her voice broke. “Emotional?”

“What happened?”

Her grandmother sniffed and took a noisy deep breath. “Beth Russell called.”

Jenna felt herself go still inside. She did not know Beth Russell. She only knew that the woman had been engaged to Uncle BJ. She’d been deeply in love with him. And then he joined the Navy, went to Vietnam, and disappeared. Assuming BJ was dead, Beth married someone else and got on with her life. End of the Uncle BJ–Beth Russell story. Not much to it.

Or too much to it?

“Jenna, she’s coming to visit next week. She wants to meet Tuyen.”

And this has
what
to do with me?
Jenna held back the caustic retort. Her cousin, Tuyen, had turned up out of the blue, news to all of them. Uncle BJ, who’d been MIA for thirty-five years and believed dead, was her father.

“Beth is . . .” Again her grandmother’s voice filled with tears. A long moment passed as she regained composure. “Beth is a beautiful woman. It’s being impressed upon me that you are supposed to meet her.”

Jenna’s heart pounded in her ears. The sun’s blanket of intense heat enveloped her. The visor pinched her forehead, and the swimsuit cover-up felt unbearably heavy. Her sunglasses cut into the bridge of her nose.

Indio Beaumont’s
being impressed upon
did that to people.

Jenna said, “Why?”

“I have no clue, dear. I just hope you will consider it. Next Sunday.”

Jenna’s throat closed up. She could only whimper, “Mm-hmm.”

“Tell Danny, too, all right? He’ll want to come.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Jenna, I know this is so very hard for you. You’re thinking about Kevin and horrible things that could happen. Like getting injured and lost and, oh my, falling in love.” She echoed what Danny had said last week.

“How did—” It was Jenna’s turn to fight back tears. “How did—” She gave up.

“How did your Papa and I get through it? God. God carried us through BJ’s war. He carried us through the news of him being lost. Through thirty-four years of not knowing what happened to him. And through meeting the daughter we didn’t know he had in Vietnam. God will carry you, Jenna. I promise you, He will carry you. Just hold on to Him with all your might.”

While her grandmother’s conversation slid into a prayer, Jenna cried openly. There was no way—no way in the world—she was going to be able to hold on.

And that was the absolute truth.

Fourteen

H
is feet planted in the sandy ocean floor, a gentle swell breaking over his shoulders, Danny watched his sister fall apart.

It was typical drama-queen behavior. Jenna tore off her sun visor and sunglasses. They fell beside the chair onto the sand. She jammed her elbows against her thighs and buried her face in her hands. Her cell phone protruded from between fingers. Even from this distance he could tell she was crying hard.

Typical and yet . . . Jenna must have just received a phone call. And Kevin was halfway around the world where people blew up other people on a regular basis.

“Dear God.”

A humongous wave crashed over his head. Its force rolled him like tumbleweed underwater. Righting himself, he wiped stinging salt water from his eyes and nose and turned. The boys on the surfboards were behind him. They’d managed to dive through the wave. His friend Hawk was treading water between them. Grins and riotous howls and thumbs-up came at him from all five. They were learning quickly and having a blast.

Danny looked again at Jenna. Cade Edmunds was kneeling in front of her. He put his arms around her. Her face went against his shoulder.

Danny swam toward shore. In the shallows he tripped, caught himself, and lunged to where Jenna sat. Prayers and obscenities yammered in his head. How was it he could simultaneously pray for Kevin’s safety and curse the United States government up one side and down the other?

He knelt next to Cade. A corner of his mind registered that his married sister snuggled in the arms of her boss was not a good thing.

“Jen? What happened?”

She raised a tear-streaked face and blubbered. “Nana called. Beth Russell is coming!”

Catching his breath, Danny stared at her, dumbstruck. “Huh?”

Jenna nodded.

He groaned, sat down on the sand, and rolled onto his back. His heart bucked like a bronco as he gulped for air. Uncle BJ’s girlfriend from
years
before he and Jenna had been
born
was coming? Big deal.

“Danny!”

He tilted his head to look at her. Between gasps he said, “I repeat, huh?”

“Nana says I should meet her!”

“Yeah. So? We knew she might come. I want to meet her. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Oh!” She cried in frustration.

Cade still had one arm around Jenna. The dude was beginning to irritate Danny.

Jenna wiped a beach towel over her face. She accepted a water bottle from Cade and took a few sips.

“Jen,” Danny said, “it’s what I said the other night, isn’t it? Your imagination is in overdrive.” He sat up. “Kevin is not Uncle BJ. He is not in Vietnam. You are not Beth Russell. He is not going to run off on you and create another life with someone else.”

“It’s more than that. It’s Nana and her—” She pressed her lips together, a combination of pout and wail suppressor.

If the stranger hadn’t been sitting right there, Danny would have talked about their grandmother, about how strong she was, about how she’d received Tuyen with open arms because Nana trusted God knew what He was doing. What was a reunion for Nana with her old friend Beth? It’d be a party by comparison.

Cade said, “What about Nana?”

Jenna burst into fresh tears and jumped to her feet. “I’m sorry! I just can’t handle this anymore!” She grabbed her bag and hurried away toward the boardwalk.

Danny stood.

Cade rose beside him. “I’ll go after her.”

“No.” He took a moment to look directly at the sunglasses that hid the man’s eyes. “It’s a brother’s job.” He waggled a thumb over his shoulder. “The guys are doing great, but you better stay with them.”

“Yeah.” Cade’s jaw worked. “Right.”

Without another word, Danny went after Jenna.

Fifteen

O
n her third Sunday at the Hideaway, Skylar declined Claire’s third invitation to attend church with the family. She went for a hike.

It was early September. The never-ending Southern California sun refused to take a break. It heated up the pleasantly cool morning in record time. Sweating, she climbed a winding, rocky path through live oaks and pines, some in full growth, some bare and blackened.

The Beaumonts’ church must be a humdinger. Even with guests at the hacienda, they managed to slip away for the service. Even with the imminent arrival of the much-talked-about Beth Russell, they went. Apparently they didn’t let anything interfere with what Indio called their corporate worship time.

Skylar rounded a bend and came into a clearing. Max’s father, Ben, stood a dozen feet from her, in the center of it, hands on his hips.

He looked her way and raised a hand in greeting. As usual, he wore denim overalls and a plaid shirt with rolled-up sleeves. His shock of white hair was uncombed, his weathered face haggard.

She waved back and walked up to him. “Morning, Mr. B. You’re missing church.”

“So are you, young lady.” His blue eyes reflected the sunlight, and she caught sight of his rare sparkle.

“Are we in trouble?”

“Only with Indio. The good Lord can handle our need to be elsewhere besides a pew this morning. Have you been to this spot yet?”

She shook her head and studied the wall of gargantuan boulders before them. Down low, a jagged cross had been dug out of the stone. Alongside that, evenly carved letters spelled, “Benjamin Charles Beaumont Jr. – September 9, 1950.” Some sort of smudge marred the “eau” of “Beaumont.”

Skylar said, “Claire told me about it. It’s a memorial to your son.”

“Yes,” Ben said. “We never knew the date of death.” He sighed, a sound so deep it could have been dredged up from the bottom of his soul. “We still don’t. They didn’t mark the grave in Vietnam. Tuyen says 1982. If her story is to be believed.”