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Authors: Georgia Bockoven

BOOK: Return to the Beach House
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Christopher began, reluctantly, telling Kyle about a dream he’d never shared with anyone until Grace. He talked about his long-standing friendship with the vet who took care of his horses and how he’d gravitated toward taking care of the large animals when he worked at his neighbor’s farm. His first trip to Tufts University Veterinary School with his horse Josi had been an eye-opener. He’d left determined to talk to his mother about veterinary school and walked into a surprise party she’d thrown to celebrate his acceptance at Penn State. Everyone was there. Everyone was thrilled for him. His grandmother cried. His mother beamed. He put up good old Penn State’s blue-and-white flag and surrendered.

“Why didn’t you say anything before now?” Kyle asked.

“Because I didn’t want to disappoint my mother and grandmother. It wasn’t just their dream that I follow in my father’s and grandfather’s footsteps, it was their obsession. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a Penn State pennant in my bedroom or a T- shirt in my closet. We even have Nittany Lions ornaments on the Christmas tree and an exact granite copy of the Nittany lion on a pedestal in the garden. Growing up, the only homecoming game I ever missed was when I was in Lexington at a dressage competition.”

“How would you feel if I were to put in a good word for you at Davis? It couldn’t hurt to do your undergraduate work there.”

Was it really possible for everything to fall into place this easily? Of course there was a wide river between a good word and an acceptance letter. “That would be great.”

Kyle pushed his chair back from the desk. “Why don’t we talk about this over lunch? We can take care of the truck when we get back.”

Christopher followed him outside and waited while Kyle flipped the sign on the door and then locked it. “I can see why Grams likes you.”

“And it’s pretty easy to see why she’s crazy about you too.” As naturally and comfortably as if Christopher were his own son, Kyle put his arm around his shoulders and walked him to the garage stall holding the Tesla.

The next morning Alison stood beside the truck, her arms folded tightly across her chest, fighting tears while she waited for Christopher to come out of the house.

“I think I’ve got everything,” he said, standing on the porch and staring at her. “Come on, Grams, you promised. No tears.”

“It’s the wind.”

“It’s foggy. There is no wind.”

“Okay, so I got something in my eye.”

“It’s just a road trip. People go on them all the time. It’s why there’s so much traffic. Just imagine I’m going away to college.”

“I’d rather imagine you pulling up to the house five days from now.”

“Whatever gets you through the week.”

She laughed as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “Wherever did you pick up that expression?”

“Grace’s dad says it all the time.”

“I saw Andrew this morning. He said Grace was crying too.”

“I seem to have that effect on the women in my life.”

“Only because we love you.” She put her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Now go on. Get out of here. And before I forget, there’s a present in the glove box.”

“What is it?”

“A camera—something that takes pictures a cut above your phone. You’re going to be seeing a lot of country I’ve never seen, and I want a full report, pictures included.”

He settled into the driver’s seat and rolled down the window. “Love you, Grams.”

She blew him a kiss as he pulled out of the driveway. “Five days,” she called after him.

Still facing forward, he put his arm out the window and waved one last time.

Alison watched until the truck disappeared into the eucalyptus grove before she headed back into the house to answer her cell phone. It was Nora.

“He’s on his way,” she said in lieu of a greeting.

In more ways than we might have wanted, and on a road that’s sure to have more bumps and twists and turns than we would have wished, but it’s his journey, not ours. No matter how much it hurts, it’s time to let him go.

Alison carried the phone to the back deck only half listening to Nora’s plans to try to talk some sense into Christopher when he arrived. They discussed last-minute details for his birthday party and what to do with the new ceramic pieces that had arrived the day before, then said good-bye with a promise to call each other as soon as either of them heard from Christopher.

She tossed the phone onto the chair and went to the railing, where she had a better view of the beach. The fog would be gone in another hour or so, and the beach would begin to fill. But for now it was nearly deserted.

Was this your doing, Dennis? I know I’ve been complaining about being lonely and that I’ve been worried about Christopher, but don’t you think you went just a little overboard?

I finally decided you must have called Peter in to give you a hand with Christopher. That brave face I put on when I saw him off was about as real as the smile on the runner-up in the Miss America contest. I’m going to miss him all day every day and with every part of my being.

Is that why you sent Kyle in my direction? I like him. Maybe too much. But I think you’d like him too, so I guess it’s okay. After all these years, I’m actually thinking about uprooting myself and doing something I couldn’t have imagined a month ago. Can you picture me a California Girl? Well, okay, a California Woman.

Alison watched a mother and her five-year-old son cross the sand and settle near the shore, where the sand was wet and compact. The boy was carrying buckets and cups and scoops, equipment to build a sand castle. The mother had the towels and umbrella and water bottles.

Alison’s eyes grew misty as memories of long-ago beaches and sand castles washed over her.

“For every thing there is a season,” she said with poignant longing.

And we’ve reached the season of final good-byes, my beloved. It really is long past the time I should have moved on.

Her phone announced a text message. She considered ignoring it, but habit won out.

It was Christopher.

“Hey, Grams! Stopped for a burger and realized I forgot to say I luv u. I do. Luv u, I mean.”

She pressed the phone to her chest and smiled as tears filled her eyes. She was okay. No, she was a whole lot better than okay.

“Thank you, Christopher,” she texted back. Then she called Kyle to ask him if he would like to accompany her to New York to celebrate Christopher’s birthday and to meet Nora.

His “yes” was filled with an enthusiasm that made her heart sing.

PART TWO

 

August

Chapter 1

“How long are you going to be mad at me?” Bridget asked, shifting lanes to merge onto the freeway after leaving the Sacramento International Airport.

Danielle shot her a glaring look. “I haven’t decided.”

“Could you at least try to understand?” There was an unmistakable plea in the question.

“No.” Danielle ran her hand under the seat-belt strap that crossed her shoulder. She’d paid a premium on her current car for the sole reason that it had an adjustment to keep the belt from cutting into her neck. Now she was spoiled, even knowing, with all that was going on at home, that it was likely the last time she’d be able to afford this particular luxury.

Most of the time she didn’t mind being an eighth of an inch under six feet tall because she’d made enough money over the years to afford the consequences of not fitting the norm, but now that she and Grady temporarily lacked an income since they’d lost the ski shop, she was going to have to learn to deal with things differently.

“You do realize I could do all the things that make people feel sorry for me. The minute someone realizes I’ve lost my hair to chemo, they’re mine.” Bridget gave Danielle a quick smile before she turned to look at oncoming traffic, slowed the Honda to match their speed, then eased into the flow behind a semi hauling trailers filled to overflowing with bright red Roma tomatoes. The tomatoes were headed to the factory to be turned into a paste that would become everything from catsup to pizza sauce, and the sight of the trucks on the freeway was as familiar as the rice fields.

“How was your flight?” Bridget asked, purposely changing the subject.

“Great. Right up to the minute I saw you with that rag on your head.”

Bridget reached up to touch the scarf she’d wrapped turban style around her fuzzy scalp. “My mother made this.”

“Makes sense. Your mother always did like your sister better than you.”

Bridget laughed. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“Just not enough to let me know what you’ve been going through?” Danielle tried, but couldn’t help a welling of tears. “How could you not tell me?”

“It’s taken two years for the four of us to put this trip together. And even at that, we’re still a year past the five-year schedule we promised we’d never forsake—
no matter what.
There was no way I was going to give anyone an excuse to postpone again.”

“Do you have any idea how lame that sounds? What could have been more important? One phone call and we would have been on the first plane to Sacramento—all of us. We would have worked something out.”

“I thought about it, but Carrie was in the middle of a battle to keep the love of her life from walking out. You were knee-deep in that new project at work. And Angie . . . she never takes time off for anything.”

“Did you buy all that stuff with Carrie?”

“What do you mean?” Bridget asked.

“I don’t know . . . it seemed kinda fishy to me. She never even mentioned she was living with someone, and then all of a sudden she was terrified they were going to break up.”

Bridget adjusted the air conditioner vents, directing them at her face. “Are you going to ask her what happened?”

“No way. I figure if she wanted us to know, she would have told us.”

“Still . . . aren’t you curious?”

Danielle laughed. “Don’t even try. There’s nothing you can say that will get me to go there with Carrie.”

“You’ve never been shy about asking me about my love life,” Bridget said.

“That’s different. I didn’t make a blood vow behind my grandfather’s barn to never keep secrets from Carrie and Angie the way I did with you.” Danielle and Bridget had been best friends since middle school in Atlanta, Georgia. They’d expanded their friendship to include Carrie and Angie when they were sophomores at the University of Virginia and created what had turned into a lifelong bond. Despite winding up living a thousand or more miles apart from each other, the four of them had remained best friends. Just not always as close as Bridget would have liked. Otherwise, Bridget never could have kept her cancer a secret from them.

Danielle knew where and to whom Bridget had lost her virginity. More importantly, she knew whether it had been worth the wait.

She had been the maid of honor at Bridget’s wedding and was the first one at the hospital four years ago when Bridget had her second miscarriage, the one that ended any possibility she would ever be able to carry a baby to term. Danielle had arranged a flight, packed a bag, gotten to the airport, flown from Denver, and arrived in Dallas before Miles managed to leave his meeting in Houston.

Danielle had never liked him before; she actively hated him after that trip.

Bridget passed the tomato truck only to get stuck behind one hauling almonds. It was harvest season in the Sacramento Valley, and the freeways were filled with open and closed trucks hauling everything from watermelons to apples to peaches to plums. Later would come rice and olives and onions and garlic. “I knew you’d be upset when you found out about the cancer, but I was so sick, all I wanted to do was crawl in a hole and disappear.”

“Did this happen before or after you dumped Miles?”

“I know how hard it is to accept, but you need to get over it. He dumped me.” Bridget fought to show that she’d moved on, but the way her hands gripped the steering wheel, so tight her knuckles turned white, gave her away. She shrugged. “Pure and simple, he wanted kids and I couldn’t have them. He felt it was not only his right but his duty to find someone who could.”

“What about adopting?”

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