Spanish Bay (23 page)

Neil was confused. “You want us to come live with you, Grandma?”

“Well, not with me, but at my place. I’d be moving into town into your apartment. It’s smaller and would be easier for me to maintain, and when I can’t walk anymore, there’s a built in elevator.” She laughed at her own comment.

Neil looked at Chris, who shrugged and smiled. “Never argue with Grandma Sue. I learned that early on in our relationship…”

“I, eh, but, you’ve lived in that house for decades,” Neil tried again, not that he wasn’t delighted by the idea of being able to move the entire family into his grandmother’s house; more that he doubted she’d actually move out. “Are you sure you want to move into town? With all the noise?”

“Are you trying to talk me out of it? Honestly, Neil. I’ve got my car so I can go wherever I want. My girlfriends live in town, you guys are going to be downstairs at the café most of the time anyway, so I’ll probably see more of you than I do now. But if you don’t like the idea, you don’t have to accept. It was just something we thought of to help you quickly and without the need for mortgages and a lot of paperwork. We’re family, Neil. We’re supposed to help each other.”

Neil looked over at Chris, who shrugged. “I think this is perfect,” he said.

And so it was decided, on the drive from San José to Carmel that the Miller-Horner family would move into Grandma Sue’s house, while she would take over the apartment.

The children spent the night at their new house, while Sue was packing her things. Downtown, the boys and Frank began to pack their belongings. Frank wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of leaving his room in this dream apartment for a 1970s-looking room to share with his nephew Andy, but he accepted the new reality and the need these kids had for a new home.

By the end of the weekend, both places had been cleaned and the family and Sue had moved into their respective new homes. Sue was all giddy about her new apartment and the modern furnishings, while Chris and Neil wondered if they’d ever get rid of the smell of pot in the house. “There will be no smoking in the apartment, Grandma, do you hear me?” Neil had admonished her before he and Chris left her to take in her new surroundings.

***

Two months had passed since their return to Carmel, and they were getting ready for another school year. The kids had adjusted reasonably well to their new home, and despite the changes, Frank and Andy got along, as did the girls. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked. Together with Phil, who had come home from college for the summer, and Joe, they had worked hard to renovate the house. They had laid hardwood floors to make it easier for Frank and Neil and their chairs, not to mention getting rid of the wallpaper and the stench of four decades of pot smoking. The master bathroom had been adapted so that Neil could maneuver more easily and be self-sufficient. And Grandma Sue was happy as ever in her new apartment, entertaining her girlfriends in her super-modern, twenty-first-century living room, and showing off all the fancy furniture and gadgets.

Frank and Julie were starting school in the same class, which everyone thought was a great idea, and they promised to keep an eye out for Andy and Lucy. All in all, life was moving along as it always had. Only their family had grown. One day, when Neil returned from an exercise run, he found a letter in the mail. He’d not yet been able to secure a job and helped out at the café instead. Today was a work-from-home day, as he was doing the books, paying invoices and ordering supplies. The letter had no sender, and was addressed to him and Chris.

Dear Chris, dear Neil,

Thank you for taking in my kids. I know you probably think that I’m the worst mother in history, and you’re probably right. I should’ve never had kids in the first place, but I think that point is moot. Hindsight is always the wiser, and I didn’t have that wisdom when I first met Skip.

I heard from Ms. Taylor that you’d taken in our kids without reservation, just as you did Frank after Mom and Dad passed away. I figured that I at least owe you an explanation. I’m twenty-nine years old this year, and yet I feel that I haven’t lived my life, at all. I’ve spent the past twelve years giving birth and raising children, looking after the house while my worthless husband was out doing God knows what.

He hit me and the kids. He was abusive and got in trouble with some really bad people. They came by the house once and scared the shit out of me. Finally, something in me broke, and I snapped. I had to get out, and I didn’t see things straight. I took the money from the inheritance and boarded the first bus out of town.

I need to get my life in order. I’ve enrolled in college to get a nursing degree, and I’ve met a nice fella who’s real good to me. I’m not even thirty yet, so who knows, I may just get a second chance at life. Please tell the kids that I love them, despite everything bad I’ve done to them, and while abandoning them was the worst thing in a long line of bad decisions, the more I think about it, the more I hope it was for their best. You two are much better equipped for raising children than I ever was or will be, and I’m sure that Julie, Andy and Lucy will thrive with you.

I don’t know if and when I’ll be in touch again. I need healing, I need time.

Thank you,

Alexandra

p.s. I know it’s not much, but here’s a check for fifty grand. Hopefully it will help you pay toward their education.

NEIL WAS SITTING on the boardwalk by the beach at Spanish Bay, a place they often came to. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful California summer’s day. Julie and Frank had graduated from high school a few days earlier, and now that school was officially out for the summer, the family was enjoying a day at the beach, one of the Horners’ favorite places. Julie was out on the ocean, surfing, while Chris, Frank, Andy and Lucy were horsing around on the beach, playing ball. Neil couldn’t join them with his chair, but didn’t mind. It was nice to enjoy the sunshine and watch his family enjoying themselves.

At thirty-one, Neil didn’t feel old, yet he and Chris had been through so much in their twelve years together, from that first fateful meeting outside Sally’s, their romance, raising Frank, and then taking in Alexandra’s kids. After Alexandra agreed to sign off on the papers, they had finally been able to adopt them. She had reset her life and turned over a new leaf, living with a new guy somewhere in Houston. They only had intermittent contact with her; she was still ashamed of how she’d treated her kids, though the kids were healthy enough to look forward rather than backward. They spoke to her on the phone every now and then. Who knew what the future held, if they’d ever reconnect in earnest?

For now, all Neil cared about was their happiness and that they did well in school. Julie and Frank would be off to college, Julie to UCLA and Frank to Stanford, to pursue an engineering degree. Frank rarely used his wheelchair anymore. Sometimes in the evening, when he was really tired, he’d need it, but most of the time he’d simply use his crutches. He’d even been able to get a driver’s license. Julie wanted to become a doctor. She was so ambitious, both in school and in her surfing.

In a year’s time, Andy would graduate, and then it would just be them and Lucy for another year, before they would be in their mid-thirties and, for the first time in their married life, alone. Neil chuckled at the thought, that he would end up alone with Chris in that big house, just as his grandma once had. Sue was still living in the apartment above the café. She didn’t move much anymore, and she’d been very wise in making sure there were people nearby for most of the day, as Chris, Neil and the staff could easily check in on her to make sure she was all right.

Sally’s was still the place to go in Carmel and very popular with the high school kids. It had become more of a family enterprise than it had ever been, with their kids helping out in their spare time. Sally, the founder of the café, had sadly passed away a couple years ago, in the New York nursing home where she’d lived since signing over the café. They’d received the news from Samantha, in a letter, a couple of months after it had happened. Just a short note, matter of fact, dutifully closing that chapter of their lives. That night, they’d had a short memorial at the café, to commemorate the founder of Sally’s Café.

Neil watched Julie join the rest of the family in their ball game. Chris may have been the tallest, but he didn’t stand a chance when the others ganged up on him, and there was laughter and smiles wherever Neil looked. He was happy, and he knew that Chris was happy, too. When he thought back to that first day they’d met, as he so often did, he could still remember the burning from the disinfectant Chris had applied to his cuts and bruises, but even more so, he felt the rush of warmth at the touch of Chris’s hands. He still felt that way, every time they touched.

Chris came running up to him. “Hey, why don’t you come and join us for some food?”

“You guys done playing?”

“They’re not, but I am.” Chris laughed.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to get the chair full of sand.”

“You can leave it here, and we’ll keep an eye on it. Besides, it’s not like anyone’s going to steal a wheelchair on a beach…” Chris leaned down toward Neil and kissed him. “Come on, I’ll carry you.”

THE END

No book is a one man show. I think I’ve established that a long time ago. But, as always, gratitude is in place and I’d like to start with my editor and publisher Debbie McGowan whose genius is only surpassed by her patience with the likes of me. Her company, Beaten Track Publishing, is a great place to house my stories.

Thanks to Claudine Clarke for proofreading.

Thanks are also due to the talented Natasha Snow for yet another striking cover to help me put the story in the eye sight of my readers. Thanks for listening and being such a good sport in helping us realize our vision.

Thanks to my readers and fans who keep pushing me to keep writing. Without you, I’d probably be doing something else by now. Please keep encouraging me, and please keep buying books.

Last but not least, the greatest gratitude to my family, my husband, my son and my dad, who support me in my endeavor. They may judge me crazy, they may not always understand what I’m doing, but they support me, wholeheartedly. I am forever in their debt.

Photo: John O’Leary

Hans M Hirschi has been writing stories since childhood. As an adult, the demands of corporate life put an end to his fiction for more than twenty years. A global executive in training and development, he has traveled the world and published a number of non-fiction titles and well-received novels. The birth of his son provided him with the opportunity to rekindle his love of creative writing, where he expresses his deep passion for a better world through love and tolerance. Hans lives with his husband and son on a small island of the coast of Sweden.

Visit Hans online at:
www.hirschi.se

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