The following Saturday, Val and Megan took a picnic to their special cove. It was a perfect day. The cove was sheltered from the wind and there was a sandbar that stretched far out so that Megan could play safely in the water that curved into the sandy beach.
Megan was a child of the sea. She was never happier than when she was at the beach, building roads and tunnels in the sand, running back and forth with her bucket Val had brought along her speed-writing manual, thinking she would practice. However, after a few distracted moments, it lay in her lap unread. The ocean was too beguiling, with its ebb and flow, providing her endless fascination. She was lazily daydreaming when suddenly she heard Megan saying, “Hi.”
Startled, she raised her head to see Garth Hasten, the rescuer in the grocery disaster. She immediately felt a twinge of guilt. She had not as yet returned his string bag. She had no excuse, she had just put off taking it back. She tried to think of what to say. At the moment, he was squatting on his heels beside Megan, looking with interest at the castle she was building, giving her his complete attention.
There’s a man who loves children. The thought flashed through Val’s mind. Not everyone knew how to interact with them, but this man did. Even as she was thinking this, he stood up, turned and smiled at her. Then, accompanied by Megan, he walked toward her. He was carrying a fishing rod, and a well-worn creel was slung by a leather strap over one shoulder.
“Hi there, Mrs. Madison,” he greeted her. “I’ve had some real luck this morning. Could you use some fresh fish for dinner tonight? I’ve got way more than I can possibly eat.”
Fresh-caught fish were a treat anytime. Val’s grocery budget, usually limited to basic staples, rarely included such delicacies. Even at the risk of becoming more indebted to this man, it would have seemed rude to refuse his generous offer.
Evidently mistaking her hesitation for something else, he grinned. “They’re all cleaned. All they need is to be dipped in a little egg and cornmeal, some butter and a hot frying pan.”
“You must be quite a cook,” Val managed to say.
“Bachelors have to be or they’d starve.” He laughed. “So, how about it?”
“Well, yes, thank you, that’s very generous of you.”
“Good, I’m on my way home. I’ll put these in some ice and bring them over later.”
Uh-oh, Val thought, watching him walk away. Did that mean she’d have to ask him in? She didn’t want, to start anything with this stranger, handsome and congenial though he seemed to be. It would just complicate her already complicated life.
She purposely lingered down at the cove longer than usual, telling herself it was because Megan was having such a good time and the day was so warm, so beautiful. Actually, she was avoiding another encounter with Garth Hasten that might prove awkward.
At last it was time to pack up. When they got to their cottage, on their porch was a small plastic container with the fish packed in ice. On it was a note. “Enjoy, GH.” To her own chagrin, Val felt a small pang of disappointment to have missed him.
That evening, they had the delicious fish for supper. Later, when the dishes were washed and put away, Val settled down to read Megan her bedtime story. It was a familiar one that Megan often requested and Val found her mind wandering even as she spoke the words. Her feelings about their new neighbor were mixed. In one way, she was drawn to him; in another, she was leery of becoming too friendly. It was Megan who made a surprising statement that caused Val to rethink her attitude.
As she was getting ready to say her prayers before getting into bed, the little girl said, “I think I’ll add our neighbor to my God-blesses tonight, Mommy. He’s nice, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is, honey,” Val answered. Afterward, she thought Megan was right. Garth Hasten had been nothing but cordial and helpful. Why did she feel somehow threatened by his entrance into their lives?
It wasn’t until a week later that Val saw Garth Hasten again. Every time she noticed his string bag hanging on the hook by the kitchen door, she reminded herself she must return it. Somehow she felt shy about doing so.
“I’ll wait until a day when Megan is with me and we’re walking into town,” Val promised herself aloud. “I really must do it before he stops here, asks for it.” Although that seemed unlikely, the thought of Garth Hasten’s towering figure arriving at her cottage door was unnerving. His appearance was so masculine, his manner so self-assured. Silly as it seemed, she didn’t want to encourage an acquaintanceship with their attractive neighbor.
A week went by. Almost every day, Val saw Garth Hasten walk past her cottage. Sometimes he had fishing gear with him; other times he just strolled leisurely along the ocean’s edge. She was tempted to run outside, return his string bag. But then she hung back. She didn’t want him to know she often stood at her window, half-hidden by the curtain, and watched him go by. She had succeeded in cocooning herself all these months, keeping her real identity a secret, not inviting even the staff at The Seawinds to be friends. It was safer that way.
As it turned out, she ran into him again purely by accident. She had taken Megan to catch the school bus and was walking back to the cottage along the beach. It was a beautiful morning, the sky clear, the sun bright, the ocean deep blue, the air tangy with salt. As she went along, she was thinking how lucky, in spite of the circumstances that had brought them to this spot, they were to live here. More like, blessed, she amended. More and more she had come to believe that God had directed her steps, just as she had prayed that desperate day after Kevin’s sentencing.
“Mrs. Madison.” At the sound of her name, Val whirled around and saw Garth Hasten striding up the beach behind her. She halted to let him catch up with her. “You’re out early, too, I see,” he said. “Mind if I keep you company?” Without waiting for an answer, he just started walking alongside her. “Boy, what a great day? Look at those whitecaps. We’re sure having some weather, aren’t we? The best I’ve ever seen this time of year and I’ve been coming down here every fall for years.”
That caught Val’s attention. Why had he chosen this particular beach? Val couldn’t guess.
He talked easily, unselfconsciously. “I feel so alive here. There’s something special about this place, don’t you agree? Unspoiled.” He glanced over at her as if for confirmation.
Knowing her reasons were far different from his, Val didn’t answer. Garth didn’t seem to notice, just went on talking, saying he’d gotten up at dawn, walked down to the dock, ate breakfast with some of the fishermen.
Finally, they neared the place where she usually cut over the dunes to her own cottage and she halted. “I still have the string bag you lent me. Would you wait here a minute while I run up and get it?”
“There’s no hurry. You can stop by any time you and Megan are out and bring it over.”
Val hesitated. “Well, if you’re sure?”
“Yes, any time. I’m usually there. Well, so long.” With that, Garth went on down the beach.
Val climbed the rickety wooden steps leading to her cottage. As she went inside, Val was irritated with herself. Garth Hasten must think her a real dud. What’s the matter with me? I can’t even carry on a decent conversation. I never used to be like this. Of course, she knew it was because of the awful events that had changed her life forever. Wouldn’t she ever get over it, be normal again?
A few days later, before walking Megan to the bus stop, she folded the string bag and stuck it in her jacket pocket, intending to make a quick stop at Garth Hasten’s cottage on her way home. If he wasn’t there, she could easily leave it wedged into the screen door. She wouldn’t have to knock or anything, just leave it there, she told herself. Then felt annoyed by all this fuss. Why was she making such a big deal about such an ordinary errand?
The wind off the ocean was brisk and she walked with her head down, bent against it. That’s how she happened not to see Garth coming from the other direction.
He greeted her with his usual good humor. Taken by surprise, she stammered, “I—I was just coming by your place to—”
“Good!” He didn’t let her finish. “How about coming in and having a cup of coffee? I just made a pot and while it was brewing came out looking around for some driftwood.”
Val knew it would be stupid to refuse. Still, she paused uncertainly.
Garth said in a gently teasing voice, “I won’t bite, I promise. I’ve been down here for three weeks and I haven’t had any company at all. I just walked to town and bought some fresh bagels. Please come and share them.”
His smile was so genuine, his voice so friendly, Val realized it would look silly not to accept his invitation. After all, as Megan had pointed out, they were neighbors.
Inside Garth’s cottage, Val looked around with interest. It had exactly the same floor plan as hers, but it was decorated in a unique style. All along one side of the front room, there were built-in bookcases filled with books, shells, odd pieces of driftwood. Then she saw the drawing table at the windows.
“Why, you’re an artist!” she said, turning to look at him with a mixture of awe and surprise.
“Yes.”
She looked at two framed seascapes, then at a stack of unframed canvases stacked against the wall. “Are those yours?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were an artist?” she asked. “It seems like something you’d tell someone right away.”
“Maybe. Sometimes it puts people off.” He paused and looked at her skeptically. “Should I have told you?” He grinned. “Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have come here. You know the old line that goes, ‘I’d like to show you my etchings.’ In my case, my sketches.” He gave her a teasing look. “You wouldn’t have come, would you?”
She had to laugh. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe not. But it’s wonderful. To be talented, I mean.”
“Everyone is talented in one way or another. Mine just happens to be my livelihood.”
“How marvelous to be able to work at something you love.”
“Don’t you?”
Val shrugged. “I’m a waitress at The Seawinds. It’s not exactly what you’d call a talent.”
“That depends. I’ve had some great waitresses and some surly ones. It certainly makes a difference to the enjoyment of a meal.”
Garth went into the small kitchen area at the end of the main room. Val heard the clatter of cups, of cabinet doors opening and closing. She went to look out the window. “You have a fantastic view from here.”
“Sure do. On a clear day I can see past the jetty, out to the lighthouse.” He came out from the counter divider bringing an aluminum coffee carafe. “Come sit over here at this window. There’s another view down to the end of the beach. I can see your cottage from here, just at the curve of the inlet.”
She sat down at the scrubbed oak table in the alcove. Sure enough, she could see their small weathered cottage behind the dunes. In a few minutes, Garth brought a tray to the table, set down pottery mugs and a basket of bagels, a jar of marmalade and a crock of butter.
Val took a sip of the delicious coffee. “Mmm, this is wonderful. Freshly ground, gourmet, right? I’ve forgotten how good real coffee tastes. I use instant since I’m the only one who drinks—” She stopped abruptly. She hadn’t meant to say something like that, give away her single status so quickly.
Garth picked up on it immediately. He stirred sugar into his coffee, looking at her directly. “Then there’s no Mr. Madison?”
Val felt breathless as she always did when she had to hedge the truth. She took another sip of coffee before answering in a low voice, “No.”
“Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to find out. Hoping to find out I mean, I’ve seen you and Megan a lot. Even before we officially met. Remember the grocery fiasco?” He smiled broadly. “I’ve seen you walking by. Then that day on the beach. Naturally, I couldn’t help wonder. I mean, obviously Megan had to have a father. What I guess I’m trying to ask is would it be okay for me to ask you to go out with me sometime?” Val’s shock must have shown on her face. Garth put down his coffee, his expression all concern. “Sorry. Did I say something out of line?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. It’s just that I haven’t been going out—yet.”
“I should have asked first. Are you divorced, or is he…dead?”
Later; much later, Val was to remember her moment of truth. Or rather, untruth. At the time, it hadn’t seemed that important. After all, everyone at The Seawinds, except Eileen and Tom, thought she was separated. But, right then, as Garth’s steady gaze held hers, she had felt trapped. Still, he was someone she’d really just met. He’d told her he was only staying until December. After that, he would leave Seawood. She’d never see him again. What difference did it make?
Besides, Kevin might as well be dead. That’s the way he wanted it, wasn’t it? In that split second of decision, Val justified her answer.
“He’s dead.”
“Has it been long?” Garth asked next.
“Almost a year,” she said tightly, wishing desperately she’d never come here for coffee, never gotten into this whole mess. It would be rude to get up and leave at this point Escape. Common courtesy required her to finish her coffee, carry on some kind of conversation. She glanced at Garth and saw that he was looking so anxious she felt sorry for him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive me. I always seem to be starting out on the wrong foot with you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.
“You don’t remember, do you?” Garth paused. “San Francisco, about this time last year. The rooftop restaurant at Ghirardelli Square. I asked if you would allow Megan to model for me. I’m the artist who did the sketch of her.”
Val put down her mug and stared at him. Slowly, the incident floated back into her memory. Of course, the sketch of Megan, the bearded man who had come to their table.
“That was you?” she demanded. “But you don’t look the same.”
Garth rubbed his jaw. “I’ve shaved off my beard.”
Val scrutinized him. “Yes, now I vaguely…” Her voice faded as a more vivid memory took its place. That was the day—the terrible day—she had learned what Kevin had done. Everything else that happened that day had simply disappeared. Except for that one awful reality. No wonder she hadn’t recognized Garth Hasten.
“Look, I don’t know how to apologize,” Garth said. “Maybe I should have told you right away, that first day I met you on the beach. Told you who I was and that I recognized you…well, actually, I recognized Megan first.” He paused. “You’ve changed a little yourself.”
Self-consciously, Val touched her hair. “Yes, I know. I wore my hair differently then.” She spoke slowly through stiff lips. Her voice seemed to be coming from a long way off. It was such a strange, fantastic coincidence.
“It’s none of my business, I know, but why are you living here? Seawood is a long way from Marin.”
“I wanted to get away from things. Make a new start,” Val said. That at least was the unvarnished truth.
“But I’ve heard when you lose someone you love, you need the support Is it a good idea to isolate yourself from people who care, could help, and live so far from family and friends?”
“There is no family, nor any friends.” Val’s mouth twisted slightly. “No people who care.”
“No one?” He stared at her, making Val feel even more uncomfortable. “That’s hard to believe.”
“Believe it,” Val said, and stood up. “I really have to go. Lots to do before time to meet Megan.”
He walked with her to the door and opened it for her. “Look, have I messed up things impossibly between us or can we be…friends? I’d like that very much.”
“Of course.”
“I’d really hate it if I’ve offended you. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s all right, really.” He was blocking her way out and she wanted to leave badly. It had been a mistake to come here. She’d talked too much, told this man too much. He moved away, giving her room to pass.
“I have to go up to the city for a few days on business. But when I come back, could I see you, make some plans?”
“I don’t know.” Val began to feel suffocated. She had to get out of here.
“I’ll call, then, may I?” he persisted.
“I don’t have a phone. I really have to go,” she said, and stepped out onto the porch. “Thanks for the coffee,” she said over her shoulder, then hurried down his wooden path, over the dunes and onto the beach, without looking back.