You never abandon what you have begun. Make perfect my imperfections.

Saint Augustine

Chapter Thirty-One

Miles

After the early church service, I glance at my watch. 9:45. In the time it will take me to drive over to the village, the shops will be open. I hit Highway 1—I have an errand to take care of. When I reach Mendocino, I park near the Gallery Bookshop. Once inside, I go to the gift section, where I bought Ellyn’s piece of sea glass. I look at the pieces of glass in a basket and turn them over looking for another one engraved with the word Friend. But after looking at each one, I don’t find what I want.

I go to the counter. “Do you have any more of the sea glass in the back—the ones in the basket over there?”

“Let me check.” The clerk gets up and sets the book she was reading on the counter next to the register. Then she makes her way to the back of the store. I wander through the aisles looking at book covers, but not really seeing them as I wait.

I’m still ashamed by my behavior—taking the glass I gave Ellyn and then throwing it into the water. I’m sorry, Lord.

I see the clerk coming back carrying what look like several pieces of the glass. I follow her back to the counter. “Here’s the rest of what we had in the back.” She spreads five more pieces of the glass out on the counter. But Friend isn’t there. Then I read a word on another piece of glass. I pick it up and rub my thumb over the word. “This one is perfect.”

I hand it to the clerk and she reads the word engraved on the glass. Then she smiles. “I take it this is a gift?”

I give her my best I’m-in-the-doghouse smile. “Yes.”

“I’ll wrap it for you.”

I leave the store as I did last time, with a gift bag holding a piece of green sea glass the color of Ellyn’s eyes. As I think of her eyes—and all she allowed me to see in them—I feel a stab at my heart. But . . .

This isn’t about me.

I walk up the street just a block or so and turn left down an alleyway planted with ferns and blooms. I go around to the back of Ellyn’s Café and knock on the back door. I hope someone will be here even though it’s still early. Just as I’m ready to knock again, the door opens.

“Hola, Doctor.”

“Morning, Rosa.”

She eyes the gift bag I’m holding.

“I keep telling her you a good man.” She points to the bag. “She not here yet. You come back later.”

“No, Rosa. I’d like to leave it for her. Could you give it to her, please?”

“Ah, a surprise? I take care of it.”

She reaches for the bag and takes it from me.

“Thank you, Rosa.”

“I still on your side, you know.”

“Good. I need you.” I wave at her as I leave.