Forever Beach (26 page)

Wyatt ducked his head to see her better. “Except you. I knew you'd be crawling the walls by now. So I decided to come over and be here to offer pizza and putt-putt and whatever will smooth over the transition.”

“Putt-putt?”

“Hey, putt-putt is a real man's sport.”

“Uh-huh.” She knew he was trying to take her mind off Leila and she appreciated it.

Once they were in the kitchen, he turned her around and kissed her. She let herself lean against him, a temporary haven from the outside world.

“Too bad I didn't get here earlier,” he said with a sigh.

Sarah laughed and pushed him away. “How about a glass of hibiscus tea instead?” She went over to the fridge and got out the pitcher of tea. When she turned around, Wyatt was looking at the papers she'd left by her laptop on the kitchen table.

“What's this?” he asked. “None of my business probably, but tell me anyway.”

“I was just doing some budgeting this morning before work.”

Wyatt picked up the top paper.

Sarah had to force herself not to snatch it out of his hand. “You're awfully nosy today.”

“Not really, but you left it out and this looks to me like you're considering some drastic changes. Are you having money troubles? Because—”

“No. Everything is fine.”

“Then why does it look like you're planning on selling the store?” He picked up the second sheet. “The house, too?”

“I was just seeing what my assets were.”

“Why would you— Sarah, you're not planning on doing something radical.”

She shook her head.

“Because if you're thinking you could sell everything and run away with Leila, it just won't work. Is that what all these figures are about?”

Sarah bit her lip. She didn't like lying, and she didn't want to lie to Wyatt. Besides, he would know. He already knew. “I just wanted to see.”

He took her by the shoulders. “Listen to me. It won't work. You can't do that to yourself or to Leila. Besides, you wouldn't be able to sell that quickly and the authorities would just follow the money trail.”

“Then I could just take her and go.”

“Honey, would you listen to yourself? Is that the kind of life you want for either of you? Change your names, living in hiding, not letting anyone get close to you. Is that any way to live your life or raise a child?”

“But what if they give Leila back to Carmen?”

He looked at her long and hard, then pulled her close. “Then you'll have to accept it and figure out how you want to handle it.”

“But what if she hurts her?”

“Then they'll take her away again. But you'll have to get on with your own life. You've lived your life completely around her for the last two years. That's not healthy for either of you.”

“It's just because everything is always so up in the air.”

“And always will be whether you have Leila or not. It's called life.”

The doorbell rang.

Sarah jumped away. “It must be them. They're early. I hope everything is okay.” She hurried to get the door.

Danny was standing on the doorstep, holding Leila's hand. His expression was stormy.

“Here,” he said, ushering Leila inside. “She didn't want to leave.”

Sarah's heart broke. She felt Wyatt come up behind her and put his hand on her back.

Sarah roused herself. “Come in.”

Danny dragged Leila in. “Good-bye, Leila. See you next week,” he said, but his voice lacked any sign of conviction.

“I don't like you,” Leila said and kicked him in the shin.

“Leila! We do not hit or kick people. Apologize to Danny.”

“No!” She stalked past them.

“I'm really sorry. I'll go get her.”

“No, that's okay,” Danny said, backing toward the door. “I'll call before next Saturday.”

“Do you want me to take her over next week?”

“No, Carmen doesn't want you there. But everything looked fine when I dropped her off. And when I asked Leila if she had a good time, she said yes. Let's just go with the status quo until the outcome of the appeal.”

He left and Sarah went in search of Leila. She found her where she knew she'd be, behind Sam's chair. Maybe Sam was protecting her from wherever he was.

“That was very naughty to kick Danny. He's just doing his job and driving you safely to the places you have to go.”

Though Sarah had to admit, she'd felt like kicking him and everyone else involved.

“You can tell him you're sorry the next time he comes.”

“No.”

“Why did you kick him?”

“I don't like him.”

“Well, come on out and let's discuss this.”

Leila huffed and turned her back on Sarah.

“Please come out now.”

A shake of the head. At least she was still communicating, which was better than the dreaded silences.

“Come on out, I'm getting hungry. Aren't you?” When Leila didn't move, Sarah pulled the chair aside and lifted her out. She started kicking the air and Sarah put her down.

Leila saw Wyatt and shrunk back.

Not again
. “Maybe we should take a rain check on the pizza.”

Wyatt shook his head. And surprised both Sarah and Leila by sitting down on the floor right in front of both of them.

“Now, is that better?” He was talking to Leila. And Sarah realized he was making himself Leila size.

Leila shook her head.

“How come?”

Leila's lip came out. “I don't, I don't, I don't like you.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“I don't like you.” This time she said it more quietly, and
Sarah held her breath to see if she would dissolve into silence, tears, or tantrum. Sarah wasn't sure how much more of this any of them could take.

Leila pulled on her hand until Sarah sat down on the floor.

Leila knelt in front of her and put both hands on either side of Sarah's cheeks.

At first Sarah thought she wanted to play the bunny wabbit game. Some kind of solace?

But instead she said, “Why does DeShawn have to be my daddy? I don't want him. He's mean.”

“Who the hell is DeShawn?” Wyatt asked.

Sarah frowned at him. He winced an apology for his language.

“He shit.”

“It's
he's
shit, but we don't use that word.”

“DeShawn and Carmen use that word and she say she's my mama now and DeShawn's gonna be my daddy.”

“Well, he isn't.”

“She say.” Leila's face crumpled.

“She may say, but that doesn't mean it's true.”

Leila started to cry. “I don't want him.”

Sarah reached for her and was relieved when she climbed into Sarah's lap.

“I don't want DeShawn. Why can't Wyatt be my daddy?”

The world winked out for a split second, as Sarah tried to regain her equilibrium. Sarah didn't know what to answer and she didn't dare look at Wyatt.

She just rocked Leila as best she could sitting cross-legged on the floor, murmuring, “There, there,” which was the only thing she could think of to say. It had no meaning and didn't help at all.

When she did risk a look at Wyatt, he was still sitting on the floor across from her, looking gobsmacked.

She should say something to let him know he shouldn't take anything Leila said seriously, but she just couldn't say that in front of Leila, who was whimpering in her lap. And Sarah didn't want Wyatt to think that she was taking it seriously but she didn't want him to think she wasn't taking him seriously either. What a mess.

They could talk about it later if it came up. For now, she just gave him a half smile trying to tell him that everything would be cool.

He didn't smile back.

W
yatt, deciding they had had enough excitement for one day, took Sarah and Leila to Boardwalk Pizza. It was a perfect choice, Sarah thought as she handed Wyatt the keys to her car and she strapped Leila in the backseat.

They could have walked to Boardwalk Pizza, but Leila was tired, still disoriented and upset from her visit with Carmen and DeShawn, and Wyatt wasn't really in shape to carry her for any distance.

He swore he was okay, but when Sarah tossed him the keys to her car, he didn't argue. It was late for the beach crowd, most of whom were already heading home or out to dinner or had finished their pizza and had moved onto the bars a few towns down the road.

BP, as the locals called the pizza joint, was still doing a brisk business. It was a narrow space with an order counter and a single row of tables along the opposite wall, but there were plenty of tables outside on the sidewalk and people even took
their pizzas across the street to watch the waves. Sarah found a table outside while Wyatt went in to order.

It was getting dark; the lifeguard stands were tipped over on their sides. A few stragglers were still sitting on the sand. Couples strolled the boardwalk, but mostly it was quiet, except for the occasional rattle of a skateboard passing down the wooden boards. A breeze cooled the air as it often did at night, and Sarah pulled a sweatshirt over Leila's head just as Wyatt returned with a handful of crayons and a paper placemat.

A teenage boy, probably a college student, followed him out with plastic utensils and drinks in paper cups.

Wyatt put the mat and crayons in front of Leila, who yawned but picked them up and began coloring a porpoise red.

Sarah just looked at him in admiration. He was so thoughtful.

“What?”

Sarah realized she had a goofy smile on her face. “Nothing. I just think it's nice that you thought to bring crayons.”

“It's no big deal.”

“It is. And I appreciate it. I don't always tell you, but I'm really grateful for how you . . . for being such a good friend to me and caring about Leila.”

He sighed, a laugh or a sound of exasperation. “Why do you always seem surprised that people care about you?”

Sarah shrugged. “I think once you've come through the system, you never lose that one small fear that someone will come and snatch your chance of happiness or stability away. So . . . well, it's hard to completely trust it. Not your friends but just the situation.” She glanced at Leila. “Like if you're not vigilant, if you relax even for a second, it will all go up in smoke.”

Wyatt reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

The college student returned with their pizza.

The pizza was good, made better from being eaten in the ocean air. They stuffed themselves, and afterward walked across the street to the boardwalk. Leila was tired but she seemed to have forgotten her earlier visit with Carmen, and knowing that her reaction was bound to resurface sooner or later, Sarah welcomed the chance to put it off for a while longer.

They strolled down the boardwalk away from the lights of the pizza restaurant and sat on a bench to look out to the sea.

Sarah knew that she would have to say something about the daddy bombshell before Wyatt left tonight. But she didn't know what to say. Because if she were to be honest with herself, and she always tried to be honest with herself, it didn't sound so bad to Sarah, either.

She'd liked the way they had been for all these years. Easy, not demanding, on again off again, seeing other people in between. They always got back together, even after Leila came and the game changed. But could the three of them be good together—a forever family?

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

Wyatt looked down at her. The moon balanced just above his shoulder and for a second he looked like a superhero. Or Lord of the Underworld. “You're overthinking again.”

“I can't always help myself.” She looked down at Leila wedged between the two of them on the beach, nodding toward sleep. For a moment, Sarah allowed herself to believe in the three of them. She pulled herself together. That was still a long way away, if ever.

She leaned back and rested her head on Wyatt's arm.
Looked up at the sky. It was a clear night and she could see a myriad of stars even with the lights of the community.

The waves were dark and steady; the roll and break lulled her heart. There had been a time, though she hardly remembered it, when she had been afraid of the beach, of the waves. Sam couldn't believe that she had never been to the beach in all the years she'd lived in a group home only a fifteen-minute walk away.

How could she explain that it was safer to walk west, through the exhaust fumes of stalled traffic, past check cashing and liquor stores, the drug dealers and the drunks, than to go east to the beach, where the air smelled like promise but was just a taunt. Because every walk always ended in the same place—group home. She would never have anything better.

So yes, she feared the waves, but she didn't hate them. Actually now they held a special place in her heart. It had been her fear of the water that had turned her toward town where she discovered Clocks by the Sea and Sam Gianetti.

“I'm going to learn to swim,” she said into the darkness. She felt Wyatt's muscle twitch beneath her neck. “I know it's crazy that I never learned.

“Sam didn't push me to learn, he said it was enough to sit beside the water and share the energy and peace of its power.” She turned her head to look at Wyatt. “Is that what you feel?”

He sighed. “Sometimes, like now, when I'm just sitting. But when I'm diving, or rescuing, or even lifeguarding, it's a challenge.” She reached over her shoulder and took his hand. “It can be beautiful but never laid back. There's a whole other world living beneath the surface. A world most people don't experience.”

He coughed a laugh. “If they did, maybe they would treat
it with more kindness. And if they respected it more, they wouldn't take a boat out drunk and get themselves killed.”

She heard that tiny whisper of bitterness, and she reached over and kissed his cheek. Then she kissed him for real.

“You're squishing me,” came a mumble from between them.

“Someone is about to nod off,” Wyatt said. “Let's get back and put her to bed.”

Sarah nodded. She started to rouse Leila, but Wyatt laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “And after that, we're going to talk.”

R
EESA STRETCHED TO
relieve her aching back. She'd been sitting at the kitchen table hunched over her laptop all evening. The White children's permanency hearing was the coming week. She'd organized her documents, and in case there was any doubt in any person along the info trail, the PowerPoint presentation she'd made this evening would leave all question about reunification behind.

When she finished, it was past time for bed. But she knew she wouldn't sleep with the images she'd revisited alive again in her mind.

Reesa went to the sink, got a drink of water, and came back to her computer. Might as well keep working.

She logged onto the Internet. She'd already run some info searches on available grants for community centers, education, and social progress. She spent another hour checking the deadlines for the ones they might have a shot at, then her mind began to wander to her own predicament. She had a plan . . . of sorts: to work with Hands Around the World on funding and focusing their direction while she beefed up her credentials for work as an elementary-school social worker, if she could afford
to go back to school for the requisite coursework. She searched for nearby affordable colleges with classes in psychology and social work.

The kitchen wall clock ticked away the minutes, then the hours.

Other than that, the house was strangely quiet. No television was blaring from the other room. She'd gotten so used to hearing it that it had become a kind of white noise to her life.

Michael hadn't come back—at least not while she'd been there—though she had noticed some of his clothes were gone. Which meant he wasn't planning on coming back soon. And the television stayed off.

Reesa didn't really miss the noise. But she was surprised that she also didn't miss Michael. There was a time not too long ago when she would have felt half of her was missing. But that was before the accident that not only broke his leg but knocked the spirit out of him as well. Now that she looked back on things, she saw they had been leading pretty much separate lives even before then. She went to work, he went to work; she came home and made dinner, and he turned on the ball game.

Or if she was out late on a call, they would order out or run down to the pub for a burger and a beer. At least then they were doing something.

Now, it was just her going to work. And it was just her sitting in the kitchen. She figured he'd come back sooner or later. Or maybe not. Maybe he was just as tired of her as she was of him.

And that made her sad. How many people stayed together just because they couldn't afford to live apart?

The salaries for school social workers weren't much better than what she was making now. She might even have to take
a cut in pay since she wouldn't have any seniority in the school system. Was she being unrealistic?

Maybe. But she knew that she couldn't keep doing what she was doing. Her job had sucked the spirit out of her. What a pair the two of them were.

Or not a pair any longer.

Reesa didn't want to leave social work altogether. She just wanted to be on the other side of it. On the side where people succeeded, made something out of their fractured, sometimes broken lives. Running into Tanisha Clark in a store Reesa never shopped in had been the clarion call. Ten minutes earlier, ten minutes later, if she'd just stayed home or gone into the office instead of going to Karen's for the weekend, she would have missed that meeting. And her second chance.

Thank God she had gone. She felt more hopeful tonight than she had felt in many years. Since before the kids had moved out, perhaps.

Hopeful, yet alone.

S
ARAH AND
W
YATT
didn't talk when they got back to Sarah's. Not at first. Leila barely woke long enough to be carried into the cottage and put to bed in her clothes.

“Go do what you need to do,” Wyatt said. “I've got all night.” He smiled in a gotcha way and went to the kitchen to get himself a beer. When Sarah came out of Leila's room, he was sitting on the couch drinking his beer. There was a glass of wine for Sarah sitting on the coffee table.

Sarah was suddenly nervous. Like she might be on a date. Not that she'd dated that much—whether she wanted to or not.

It was one of the many things she and Sam had scuffled
over. He'd changed the way she dressed the first week she'd walked into the store; taught her to respect others and herself. Until she ran into a guy from her former life and made the mistake of bringing him to the clock store.

She knew she was testing the waters, pushing to see how far Sam would go before kicking her out. The stakes were getting higher, and she didn't want to leave. But the old urge to fail kept ambushing her.

She'd expected Sam to fly into a rage, kick the guy out. But Sam surprised her. He forced the guy to shake hands then invited him for a cup of tea. Chatted like they were old friends. The guy couldn't wait to get out of there and never came back again.

Sam never said a word and neither did Sarah. He'd proved his point. She really had left that part of her life behind.

There were more times like that, though none as treacherous as the first. Sam was patient, and in the end his good sense rubbed off on her. He'd loved Wyatt. Maybe he thought of him as the son he'd never had. Though he'd never pushed them together. Never even mentioned it. Just stood back and let things take their course.

Fix the now.
It was time.

She sat down, took her glass, put it down. “So . . .” she began.

Wyatt just smiled and shook his head. Handed her the wineglass. “Chill. It's all okay.”

“But—”

“But it's all okay.” And he made it so.

It was close to four when Sarah awoke to crying. Immediately awake, she jumped out of bed and ran across the hall to Leila's room. The night-light was on, Leila was tossing in her
sleep, but she was still asleep. Sarah sat on the bed and soothed her hair, rubbed her tummy. And when Leila reached out her arms, Sarah curled up beside her until she was calm again.

When she finally tiptoed back to her own room, it was almost dawn and Wyatt was still there.

Sarah hesitated for a split second.

Wyatt sat up. “Well, do I stay or go?”

She looked behind her to the dark hall and the sliver of light that shone from Leila's room.

“I don't know if Leila . . .”

“What do you want? You? Not what is good for Leila or what she'd want. Not what is good for the both of you. But what you want. That's what I want to know.” He looked at her, sleepy and tousled and serious. “And maybe once I know, I'll figure out what I want.”

She thought about it.

He pulled her down and kissed her. And she thought she knew the answer. A few minutes later she forgot the question.