Tales From Sea Glass Inn (14 page)

The beach was nearly empty. She saw a couple
far ahead of her, walking like one person with their arms wrapped around each
other’s waists. A man stood near Haystack Rock, taking pictures with his cell
phone. A woman on a small spotted horse was cantering along the packed sand,
and Ari stood still to let them pass before she crossed to the water’s edge.
She frowned as the centaur pair got closer. Something about the rider was
familiar to her…

“What a surprise to see you here,” Jocelyn
said in a breathless voice as she pulled her horse to a halt near Ari.

“I’m sure it is a surprise,” Ari said,
gesturing over her shoulder at the Sea Glass Inn. “Who’d have thought I’d be
right outside the place where I’m staying?”

Jocelyn grinned, seemingly undeterred by
Ari’s sarcasm. “Right? Mariner and I just got to the beach and started our
ride, and there you were.”

Ari couldn’t keep from smiling in return.
Jocelyn’s cheeks were red from the wind and her fast ride, and she spoke with a
tone of shocked innocence. She looked stunning on horseback, connected to the
beach and the creature she rode. She was full of shit, obviously, but stunning.
Jocelyn seemed like someone who wouldn’t relent until she got her way, and Ari
needed to stay strong and resist. She made herself look away from Jocelyn and
pointed again, this time at the masses of hoofprints in the sand wet from the
ebbing tide.

“Looks like a whole herd of horses has been
through here,” she said. “Or maybe just one, back and forth a whole bunch of
times.”

“Hmm, I do seem to remember a van full of
horses leaving the parking lot just as we drove in. Must have been them out
here.”

“Oh, okay. So…I’m new around here. Maybe you
can tell me where I go to get a restraining order against a stalker?”

Jocelyn laughed out loud. “We take care of
our own around here. No one will issue one against a poor business owner who is
simply trying to make a living by offering to host a reading for a visiting
author who will benefit from the evening and sell a bunch of books.”

Ari shook her head at the breathlessly
delivered rambling sentence. Every time Jocelyn mentioned the idea, she managed
to make it sound as if she was doing Ari a favor. She couldn’t help but admire
Jocelyn’s persistence—how the hell long had she been riding out here?—but
admiration and attraction weren’t going to be enough to make Ari relent. She
got anxious enough at publicity events. It’d be even worse when she wasn’t
writing and felt like a fraud dressed up in author’s clothes.

She started to walk along the beach,
searching for a way to distract Jocelyn from her mission. The horse fell into
step beside her and Ari reached out to stroke his neck. He was already getting
his thick winter coat, and his mane sprouted every which way like a too-long
mohawk. Ari used him as a diversion.

“He’s cute. Have you had him long?”

“Only since the beginning of summer,” Jocelyn
said, giving the horse a pat. “There’s a livery stable called the SeaHorse
Ranch that offers beach rides for tourists. After the spill, the beach was shut
down indefinitely, so they leased out as many horses as they could. I couldn’t
resist a chance to ride again, and I knew I’d be helping the ranch owners by
feeding and boarding him for a year, so here we are.”

“Out a-stalking on horseback,” Ari said.
“Poor horse, unwittingly leased into a life of crime.”

“We’re not stalking you. We were just out for
a nice ride on the beach and we happened to bump into you and I happened to
mention an amazing marketing opportunity.”

Jocelyn was definitely tenacious about this
favor. Luckily, Ari could be equally persistent in her determination to change
the subject. “What do you mean about getting to ride again? You look natural up
there, like you spend a lot of time in the saddle.” Ari made a concerted effort
not to look where parts of Jocelyn met the saddle. She didn’t need to go
there—her willpower might not be strong enough to resist.

Jocelyn looked straight ahead, suddenly
appearing as uncomfortable as Ari had been when the book signing was mentioned.
“I rode a few times when I was a kid. At camps and stuff.”

“Were you a Girl Scout?”

“Um, no.”

Ari couldn’t help herself. Whenever she wrote
a character that was as evasive as Jocelyn was acting, there was some hidden
reason behind her caginess. Ari tried to convince herself she was merely
gleaning information she’d use in a future book—she loved collecting snippets
of scenes or character motivation—but she was too aware of her growing interest
in Jocelyn as a person. She was an enigma. At once vulnerable and hard as
nails, gentle and pushy.

“What kind of camp?”

Jocelyn shrugged, as if answering the
question was no big deal to her. “A camp for kids with cancer. I got a wish
granted, and I had such a wonderful time with the horses that my parents sent
me back each summer.”

Ari stopped walking. “Cancer? I had no idea.
I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine now,” Jocelyn said. She pulled
Mariner to a halt. “I had AML. Acute myelogenous leukemia. I’m better now,” she
repeated.

Ari nodded, not sure what to say given
Jocelyn’s defensive tone. She rejected all the platitudes that came to mind and
went with the first honest question that popped into her mind. “How much of
your childhood was spent in hospitals?”

Jocelyn paused as if considering the
question. “Between ages three and six, I’d say I was in hospitals and clinics
far more than out of them. I had surgery and chemo, and once the cancer was in
remission I had more intense chemo, and then a stem cell transplant from
Maggie, my sister. She’s my fraternal twin. After age six, I went back for
regular screenings for over five years. I didn’t go to a regular school until I
was ten, but the doctors hadn’t been convinced I’d even make it to that age, so
I can’t complain about having more nurses and doctors as friends than kids my
age, or about watching other kids play from the sidelines.”

Ari was silent. She’d learned a lot in a few
sentences. She felt she understood the force of Jocelyn’s determination a
little better now. She probably saw challenges as life-or-death situations
after facing such a huge one at a young age. And a twin? Ari was curious and
wanted to ask more, but she sensed Jocelyn had shared enough for the moment.
She had been hesitant to tell her story at first, and then had spit out the
words as if trying to get their bitterness out of her mouth in a hurry. Ari
started walking again, and Jocelyn and Mariner continued, too.

“You said you’re working on a project while
you’re here,” Jocelyn said. “What are you writing now?”

She didn’t seem to have any doubt Ari would
answer, and Ari couldn’t find a good enough reason not to repay Jocelyn’s
confidences with at least one of her own. Trapped by reciprocity. Damn.

“It’s a book about a woman who loses her
mother,” she said, pretending she was actually writing the novel and not merely
staring at a computer screen and thinking about it. “They were estranged, and
the main character is remembering their relationship and coming to terms with
her residual anger and the guilt she feels because she’s angry.”

“I knew it,” Jocelyn said with a triumphant
grin.

“You knew what I was writing?” Ari asked,
confused by Jocelyn’s response. Did she know about Ari’s own mother somehow?
Had she searched hard enough online to learn about Ari’s personal life? The
thought made her feel exposed and she wrapped her arms around her middle,
suddenly cold in the growing breeze.

“No. I recommended the book about beekeepers
because it’s really about family and home. Somehow I guessed you were wrestling
with those issues, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t really you. It was your
character.”

“Do you moonlight as a psychic? Or do you use
tarot cards to pick books for your customers?” Ari heard the challenge in her
voice. Jocelyn had shared something deeply personal, but she still didn’t have
the right to delve into Ari’s mind and emotions.

“Some locals call me the Book Witch,” Jocelyn
said, as if proud of the title. “I pay attention to hunches, is all. But your
premise sounds interesting. You handle painful emotions very well when you
write, and I’ll bet this will be another best seller. What you need to do—”

“No.” Ari hated sentences starting with the
words
What you need to do
or
You should
.
“I’m here on a working retreat, and can’t let my attention be split between
writing and making appearances.”

“One appearance. Not even an appearance, just
a small afternoon gathering where you read a few passages, sign some books, and
answer questions. Nothing to it.”

“It’s not nothing. It would be too much of a
distraction,” Ari said, even though she had spent her entire visit to Cannon
Beach searching for distractions to avoid writing. She halted again and faced
Jocelyn. “I need to be left alone to write.”

“Why?”

Jocelyn clearly didn’t understand. Ari wasn’t
sure she did entirely, either. She’d always been nervous when speaking to
readers, but she’d loved it at the same time. She couldn’t stand up in front of
people and claim to be a writer when she wasn’t writing. Her pain and grief
were too close to the surface right now—what if the audience could see the real
things she was facing, without the veil of her characters between them?

“Because,” Ari said. The meaningless answer
would have to be good enough for Jocelyn.

It wasn’t. “I’d think a reading would be
inspirational for you. It would be good publicity, plus you’ll be adored by
your fans, your ego will be boosted, and you’ll sell books. That’s the whole
point, isn’t it?”

“You mean
you’ll
sell books.” Ari had to laugh when Jocelyn shrugged and grinned at her without
even a hint of shame.

“Tomato, tom-ah-to. You’ll get royalties and
I’ll generate a little income to help my business survive.” She leaned forward
and balanced her arm on Mariner’s neck. “We’ll actually be helping each other.”

Ari shook her head and started to back away.
“As much as I’d love to help, this trip isn’t about making money. It’s about
communing with nature. Synchronizing my spirit with the timeless rhythm of the
waves.” Ari spread her arms wide and shouted into the wind. “Becoming one with
Mother Earth.”

“Baloney.” Jocelyn laughed. “I’ll ask again.”

Ari moved faster, glancing over her shoulder
to make sure she was aiming toward the inn and wasn’t about to trip over some
driftwood. “And I’ll say no again.”

Jocelyn raised her voice as Ari got farther
away. “Then I’ll keep asking until you finally say yes.”

Ari waved her off and turned around. She
crossed the deep, loose sand and got to the steps leading to the inn before she
heard Mariner’s hooves slapping through the waves as Jocelyn cantered away. She
climbed the steep wooden staircase, using the rough banister for support.
Jocelyn was exasperating. She was so adorably and irritatingly confident that
she’d eventually wear Ari down and rope her into the signing, that Ari was
beginning to doubt her own ability to avoid it.

*

Ari sat on the wooden step at the top of the
bluff with her jacket pulled over her head to protect her from the misty fog.
The day was gray and wet. The ocean rolled and heaved, only discernible from
the sky in movement, not in color. Something, either very low clouds or a heavy
fog, Ari wasn’t certain, hid the fir-covered hills surrounding Cannon Beach
from view. She hadn’t been all the way down to the beach since her encounter
with Jocelyn three days before. She kept watch for the horse and rider pair,
but even though she hadn’t even seen a hoofprint in the sand, she didn’t
consider herself safe from Jocelyn’s relentless petitioning for a book signing.
Ari tried to remain firm, but Jocelyn was a fighter. Ari had a feeling she was
regrouping and planning her next attack. She stirred too many emotions within
Ari—how long would she be able to withstand the turmoil of arousal and defiance
she felt whenever Jocelyn was around? Soon she’d agree to anything Jocelyn
asked, just to get some peace.

Unless, of course, she could avoid seeing
Jocelyn entirely until she was scheduled to leave. The easiest way to
accomplish the feat would be to spend every waking hour besides mealtimes in
her room, diligently working on her new book. Or, to be more precise, starting
her new book. Getting a sentence down on paper. She still struggled with the
opening line, and she had used different tricks to get past her block. She’d
tried starting a later chapter, writing some of the dialogue she heard playing
in her mind, and doing every character-building exercise she had ever heard of.
Nothing seemed to work, and after pacing in her room and staring out the window
for several hours, she absolutely had to get outside.

And run the risk of seeing Jocelyn. She’d
either gotten in her car and driven out of town or kept to the inn’s garden
path over the past few days, places where she was sure to be left alone by
anyone other than Pam, Mel, and the other guests who’d arrived two days
earlier. Those two, a pair of honeymooners from Eugene, Oregon, were far too
wrapped up in each other to care about Ari at all. Just the way she liked it.

Ari understood why Jocelyn was as tenacious
as she was, especially given the circumstances of her childhood, but she still
didn’t have the right to bulldoze over other people to get her way.

“Are you okay out here?”

Ari startled at the voice and she turned to
find Pam standing behind her. “I’m good.” She pushed her makeshift hood back
until she could look up and see Pam’s face. “Not the greatest weather for being
outside, but it’s beautiful out here. Very powerful and ominous.”

Pam laughed and sat on the step next to Ari.
She didn’t bother covering her head, and fine drops of mist settled on her
short hair. “The ocean has many moods,” she said. “This is one of my favorites,
when it churns and everything is monochromatic. The atmosphere is more
interesting than on a calm, sunny day.”