Chasing Sunsets (30 page)

“It’s not easy.”

“No, ma’am, it’s not.”

“But, it’s doable.”

“It is.”

“I know.” She gave me a firm look. “I was young and in love once, you know.”

“I bet you and Gilbert were something else.”

Patsy looked away toward the horizon. “Gilbert was. That man was something else.”

I rested the tea glass on the arm of my chair. “Tell me all about him, Patsy. Tell me about this man you loved so much.”

Her head lolled back and she closed her eyes as though in the sweetest of dreams. “I remember the day we met as if it were yesterday,” she began. “It was the same day my mother put me on a bus headed for Trinity . . .”

For the remainder of the afternoon I listened as she told her story. It was one I would not soon forget.

I told Steven that evening as we sat in folding lawn chairs perched on his front porch, waiting for the sun to set and sipping on iced decaf hazelnut coffee. With Steven’s camera resting in my lap, I told him—as kindly as I knew how—how Cody had reacted and how Charlie had behaved.

Or maybe it was the other way around.

I could see the pain etch its way across his face at the news about Cody but a resolve when I told him about Charlie. “I’m not nearly as worried about that,” he said.

“But, Steven, don’t you understand? There’s a law. I won’t be able to move here, and your job, your family, your ill father—your new house—is here. What will we do? See each other on weekends until Cody turns eighteen or Charlie decides to stop being a jerk?”

Steven took my left hand in his. “Look at that sunset,” he said.

He diverted my attention from his handsome face, bathed in the afternoon colors, to the source.

“There is a song of Asaph in the Bible—Psalm 74 to be exact—and it says, ‘But you, O God, are my king from of old; you bring salvation upon the earth. It was you who split open the sea by your power; you broke the heads of the monster in the waters. It was you who crushed the heads of Leviathan and gave him as food to the creatures of the desert. It was you who opened up springs and streams; you dried up the ever flowing rivers. The day is yours, and yours also the night; you established the sun and moon. It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth; you made both summer and winter.’ I think about that psalm a lot, especially when I’m watching such a sunset as this one.”

I had turned my view away from the horizon and back to him, and so I looked out again. The sun had set some time ago, but its orange and gold reflection hovered along the skyline. The water had turned gray-blue and had receded enough that locals and tourists walked along the rippled bed of the Gulf.

“See that blue heron over there, the one perched at the end of the pier?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you think he’s thinking about right now?” When I didn’t answer, he responded to his own question. “He’s worried about his children . . . no. He’s worried about tomorrow’s food supply. Nooooo . . . He’s thinking, ‘Who are all these people and when will they leave my stomping grounds?’”

We laughed together.

“I get your point.”

“He knows who is in control, Kimberly, and it’s not him.” He squeezed my hand again. “And it’s not you and it’s not me. If God can take care of the sun and the moon and the waters and the Leviathan, if he can bring about salvation to the earth . . . if this day is his and this night as well, then so is tomorrow and the next day and the next.” His hand released mine, and I brought it back to my lap, pressing it flat. “I love you, Boo, and quite frankly, I cannot imagine what it’s like to be in Charlie’s shoes. I had the privilege of raising—
rearing
—my daughter.” He looked at me.

“But you were a good father.”

His hand cupped my chin. “I’d be willing to bet Charlie is too. For the most part. He’s just scared, that’s all. The good Lord knows I know what that feels like.”

I pulled my chin from his fingertips. “I’m going to Orlando first thing in the morning, Steven. I’m going to try to see my attorney as quickly as I can. I have to know what I’m up against.”

Steven’s face returned to look out at the heron. About that time, the bird lifted his wings and, with a leap, took off and soared across the water. “Do what you feel you must.”

“You’re angry.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You sound angry.”

His elbow came down on the arm of his chair as he leaned toward me. “What will you do, Boo, if the answers you seek don’t fall in your favor?”

I said nothing. He knew the answer as well as I. I would fall back into an old pattern. I’d take the bull by the proverbial horns and I’d somehow make it work.

And if that didn’t work . . . well, then we were doomed.

Long before the sun rose over Cedar Key the next morning, I loaded Max into the car, purposefully leaving everything but my toiletries at the house. I then drove the long road home.

The house felt cold, in spite of the fact that I’d set the air-conditioning system to eighty-one degrees before I left. As soon as I pulled into the garage, got out of the car with Max scrambling behind me, and opened the house door, I felt as alone as I’d ever felt before.

My footsteps echoed in the house. I realized they always had. The house was large by most standards, was tiled throughout, and I’d hung very few paintings to absorb the emptiness. To make matters worse, it stood without a single male—save Max—in it. I could open the windows and hear birds chirping to one another, but the marsh and its smells and sounds would not welcome me.

Worst of all, I missed Steven already. Perhaps too much.

I fed Max, then went through the mail my neighbor had daily left for me on the island in the kitchen. Most of it was trash. There were a few bills. No good old-fashioned letters.

When I’d cleared that away I trudged up the stairs with Max behind me. “Come on, boy,” I said. “Let’s take a shower and make ourselves presentable.”

I called Andre at 8:45 to tell him I was in town and to see if there was any news on my sister. “We can’t see or talk to her for the first two weeks,” he told me. “So, no. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that she hasn’t escaped.”

If he hadn’t sounded so beat, I would have laughed. “Well, that at least sounds positive.”

“Yeah. And I’m holding on to every ounce of positive I’ve got right now.”

I honestly didn’t know what else to say. “If you need me, you’ll call?” I asked finally.

“Yeah.”

I forced a lilt into my voice. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

It was 9:00 when I placed the call to my attorney’s office. I told his secretary who I was and that I needed to speak with Tom as soon as possible.

“I can put a note on his desk,” she said. “But he won’t be in until around 10:00.”

“Tell him, please, that I need to speak with him right away. It’s extremely important.”

Tom never called back, but his clerk did. She told me who she was and wondered if there might be something she could do to help me.

Fear and panic set in. “I’d like to come in,” I said, relying on my old methods when I felt I was losing control. “If I wanted to talk about this on the phone, I would have called from Cedar Key.” I stomped my foot. No. No. I wouldn’t take control. I’d trust God . . .

“Okay,” she responded with a mild tone of trepidation. “I’m not altogether sure what that means . . .”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m operating on fear right now and trying very hard not to.”

A pause and then, “Let me see if I can fit you in sometime this week.”

“No,” I said too quickly, then breathed in. Out. “Today. Please. This won’t wait until sometime this week.”

“Mrs. Tucker—”

“Call me Kimberly, please. If I hear myself being called Mrs. Tucker one more time, I may scream.”

“Okay,” she said again. “I have a very limited amount of time at 1:30 this afternoon. But you’ll have to make it quick.”

“I’ll be there,” I said. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

In the fifteen minutes I was allotted, I learned that if I decided to go to court with my petition, the judge would look at a list of facts and circumstances.

“Which include,” the law clerk—a young freckle-faced woman with long strawberry blonde hair—explained, “why you are moving, how much time your sons spend now with their father and how much they’ll spend after your relocation, the relationship your sons have with their father, what trained professionals will determine to be the physical, educational, and emotional effects from the move and—most notably—upon not being close to their father and whether or not the move will improve the quality of life both for you as their mother and for the children.”

“What does that last part mean?” I asked.

“If you are moving because of your job, will you have great financial gain . . . are you moving for the sake of your own emotional health . . .”

“Yes.”

She smiled at me. “I suppose you could say that.” She took a breath. “Also, if you are seeking an opportunity for higher education . . . ?”

“No. I just want to get married and be with the man I love. Plain and simple.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s going to sway the judge, Mrs. . . . Kimberly.”

My shoulders sank. “What are my other options, then?”

She leaned her arms onto her desk. “If I were you—and mind you, I don’t know your ex-husband—I would go see him. Talk to him. Make him an offer he can’t refuse, as the old saying goes.”

“Like?”

“A reduction in child support, perhaps? More visitation? That will usually sway a noncustodial.”

I nodded, looked at my watch, and said, “My fifteen minutes are up.” I stood, extended my hand. “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

She laughed and said, “I’m not sure I had a choice from the sound of your voice.”

I winced. “I can be a bit of a control freak,” I said. “I’m sorry. Believe me, I’m working on that.”

I’d left my phone in the car so as not to be disturbed. In the brief time I’d been inside the law office, I’d received three fully spelled out texts from Steven.

The first one said:

DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU?

The second one read:

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES THE BIBLE REMINDS US THAT ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE WITH GOD? TRUST HIM, BOO.

And the third:

I AM PRAYING FOR YOU. I LOVE AND MISS YOU SO MUCH IT HURTS.

“Oh, Steven,” I whispered in the stifling heat of my car. “I love you too.”

I dialed Charlie’s number.

“What?” he answered.

“I’m in Orlando,” I began, “and I want . . . I’d like . . . to see you.”

“I’m not going to be talked into anything,” he said.

“Charlie, please. If you ever loved me at all, please just see me for a few minutes. I’m not asking to see the boys; I’m just asking to see you.”

“I’m working, Kim, you know that.”

“Are you planning to work all night?”

“No, but the boys are coming home this afternoon from Atlanta and I want to be here when they arrive.”

“I know that, Charlie. I talked with Chase and Dad yesterday when I took a break driving home. For Max’s sake.” Not that it mattered when or why. “They said they’d be back by 3:00.”

Charlie sighed. “I have to be in Baldwin Park for a meeting later today. Meet me at La Bella Luna at 5:30.”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

“Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.” I started to say good-bye, but instead, “And Charlie?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

The restaurant where Charlie asked to meet is near Lake Baldwin, one of Orlando’s many bodies of water. A nice breeze was kicking off the lake, making for a perfect afternoon. I decided to dress nicely for our meeting and chose a coral halter empire-waist dress that stopped just above my knees and flower thong sandals. Other than a large coral bangle, I wore no other jewelry.

Charlie—who looked as handsome as ever—greeted me by sliding out of the booth and standing when I walked into the pizzeria. “You look good. Island life obviously becomes you,” he said.

As uncomfortable as I was with the compliment, I replied, “Thank you,” before sliding into the seat opposite him.

A young server came over.

“What will you have?” Charlie asked.

A beer served in an ice-cold mug stood between us. I looked from him to it and then to the server. “Coke, please.”

Charlie chuckled when the server walked away. “I took the liberty of ordering a small pizza bianca for us.”

We’d dined here before—when there’d been an “us”—and he obviously remembered how much I adored the pizza bianca. “Thank you,” I said again. And this time, I meant it.

Charlie took quick control of our eating together. Of my wanting to talk. So, while we ate, I listened as Charlie shared news about the business, from his family and some of our old friends. Not once did he bring up the boys, so I finally asked, “How did Chase and Cody enjoy Atlanta?”

Charlie beamed. “They had a blast. Your dad was pretty worn out, and I don’t think Anise had the energy to get out of the car. But the boys had a good time.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

When nothing was left but crumbs to the pizza, Charlie ordered two cups of coffee, then leaned in and said, “All right.” His face turned stoic. “Tell me what you’ve come to say.”

I took a deep breath, whispered a prayer, and said, “I want to make you an offer.”

“I’m listening.”

I drew my shoulders back. “Charlie, I have no intention of doing anything anytime soon, but I think that, yes, I will marry Steven and I will move to Cedar Key. Permanently.”

My ex-husband opened his mouth, but I raised my hand to stop him just in time for the server to return with our coffees and to ask if we wanted red velvet cake for dessert. Charlie said that we did and to bring two forks.

“Keep going,” he said when the server had walked away.

“When I do,” I continued, “I want to make an offer. I’ll petition the court to take off a third of your child support payment. We’ll continue with every other weekend visitation, you’ll get half the summer versus four weeks, and every spring break. On weekends with Monday holidays, you can keep the kids the extra day. Nothing else changes. We’ll alternate Thanksgiving and Easter as before and Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as before. I’ll drive halfway for their visits. Unless, of course, you’d like to just come to the island for a visit.” I took a deep breath, exhaled. “I’m not offering low and hoping you’ll counter. I’m letting go of wanting it all and truly . . . truly . . . making a sacrifice so you’ll meet me halfway.”

The server brought the red velvet cake to the table. Charlie picked up his fork, but I left mine lying tong down on the edge of the plate.

“You seem to have thought this through fairly well.”

“I have.”

His eyes bore into mine as he returned his fork to the table without taking a bite. “Has he asked you to marry him?”

I didn’t know whether to be honest or not, but I decided to go with what was right. “Yes.”

He looked at my left hand, then back to my face.

“I’m not wearing a ring until after he’s had a chance to meet my sons.
Our
sons.”

Charlie squared his shoulders against the padding of the booth’s seat back. “I see.” He pressed his hands against his thighs.

“Charlie,” I said. “I want you to know something. I’m sorry if I smothered you or tried to control you when we were married.” A sound like the wind being let out rushed from between his lips. “I’ve come to realize that this is one of my downfalls.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t just you, Kim.”

I leaned forward. “Then what was it?”

His head fell back and then straight again. “Ahhhhh . . .” He laughed a little. “I
did
love you, you know that, right?”

I nodded.

“And life was pretty good until . . .”

“Until?”

“Some of the crewmen at work . . . they were young, single. They went out after work for drinks. Told exploits of the women they’d been with over the weekend.” Charlie shook his head. “They didn’t have a responsibility in this world, and it just all became so tempting. And then there you were . . . Miss Merry Homemaker. There wasn’t anything you couldn’t do and do right. Perfect, in fact.”