Michael and I arrived back at the property before 4:30 that afternoon, without any unnecessary insensitivities or unintentional rejections during our return drive. I was lost in my thoughts about my talk with Father Williams. The profound probe into my personal dilemma had totally unnerved me and I was still reeling from it when I picked up Michael. He must have felt it or seen it on my face, because he didn’t say much to me on the drive home, which only lasted 30 minutes from the time we left the city limits until we parked the Rover into its regular spot.
“Sorry, Michael. I wasn’t good company.”
“I understand, Missy, you had many things on your mind. I’ve been through stuff like that, myself,” he said to me as we got out of the car. I didn’t pay any attention to his remarks. Absentminded and stuck in a dark place, I brushed off his words with careless inconsideration.
“I’ll see you at dinner. Be a dear and bring the groceries to the kitchen for me. I must rush to change and join Irma in the kitchen,” and without thinking, I blew him a kiss through the air and then ran toward my own quarters.
I felt a jolt of shame because I didn’t take Michael’s feelings into account, I turned my back on his obvious crush on me. I was so engrossed in my own problems I lost all sight of his. Usually, I was a sensitive person, more sensitive than I was that day. However, the day still had many open hours when making it up to Michael was still possible.
When I finally joined Irma at the main house, I thanked her for having referred Oliver to me. I told her how much I had liked his genuine concern and helpful suggestions.
“He is a gentle soul, Irma. I can’t believe how effortless the whole conversation went. I felt so soothed after, even though the subject was not an easy one to share. I can hardly wait to see him again.”
“Well, he’s coming for dinner next week, you can steal him away after dinner for a private heart-to-heart.”
“Yes, he told me about your kind invitation.”
“Fred and I have him over quite often. He is our pastor, but he is more of a friend. We always enjoy his visits.”
“I am not surprised. He is quite a man.”
The dinner was ready by seven, at which time, the members of the Roberts family were already sitting in the main dining room. A sudden and severe storm had developed, putting an abrupt end to the initial plan to eat outdoors. The patio was the preferred location for the evening meals. Dusk always provided the perfect lighting and Fred didn’t have to turn on the outdoor lights. A few candles on the table gave the dining area that picture-perfect setting. But not that evening. Everyone sat inside pouting and the expressions on their faces were showing the understandable disappointment. Sally kept looking outside, hoping the rain would stop.
The mood was not a happy one, there was a morose silence in the room while we ate. Even David and Sheila were unusually quiet.
As the storm raged around us, one by one, everyone left reluctantly after dinner. There were a few umbrellas by the front door and they all disappeared. As there was not much to do after dinner, everyone dispersed and returned to the solitude of their own spaces. I stayed to help with the usual after-dinner chores and then I too returned to my place.
The day’s events had set the type of mood perfect for continuing my novel. After starting up the gas fireplace, I sat in the most comfortable chair and resumed where I left off. The words spilled out of me without effort and the time passed went unnoticed until I heard a very dull knocking on my door. I wasn’t sure it was a knock because I heard the rain beating heavily on the rooftop; however, I did get up to see.
I opened the door and there was Michael holding a big black umbrella. The rain was pouring so heavily the umbrella had barely kept the rain from completely soaking him. He looked to be dejected and beaten.
“Michael, come in, come in,” I grabbed his jacket’s lapel and pulled his wet body out of the rain and closed the door right behind him. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“I had to see you, Missy. I am sorry to disturb you,” he apologized profusely.
“You are not disturbing me, but this visit is unusual. You have never come over. I don’t know if we should be doing this,” I said, feeling guilty. No one had ever set rules for fraternizing with the guests, and this sort of situation had never been an issue. I knew if anyone had seen Michael coming into my private quarters, there would be all sorts of gossip, or worse.
I turned off all the lights. I was not setting a romantic mood; on the contrary, I turned them off to make sure no one could see us in case they were looking toward my cottage. I didn’t want to throw him out either. I had been everything but kind to him that day. I felt an obligation to be civil.
I sent him into the bathroom to dry up. He returned wearing René’s bathrobe, making him look as if he belonged there, in my house. There was an awkward moment between us and I didn’t know what to do. My heart went out to him, he was probably feeling the same way as I had around René in the days before he left. I had tried to reach out in a loving way, only to be rejected, day after day.
“Michael, sit down,” I finally said.
He moved over to the fireplace and sank down into an armchair facing it. I guess my approach to his arrival had sent him the wrong message. He probably thought he should stay as far away from me as he could. I wanted to go over to him and give him a hug to erase any hurt I may have caused. I knew about one-sided love. It was the worst emotion a person could feel. I didn’t want that for Michael, but I didn’t want to send him any reckless and dishonest messages either.
“Michael, what is it that you feel toward me? Don’t be shy, tell me.”
“I love you, Missy.”
“But we have only known each other a short time. You hardly know me.”
“I know, it’s crazy, right?” he sounded so embarrassed.
“I guess it’s hard to control how we feel. I am just not able to return your kind feelings, Michael. I like you very much and we have had some precious moments. I liked kissing you, you brought out something in me I craved badly. But, Michael, I cannot be what you want me to be. I am so sorry.”
I watched his reaction but there were only tears. I felt so sad for us. I started to cry too. I took him into my arms and we stayed in that position for a while before he stood up and went to the bathroom to retrieve his jacket.
“I’m sorry, Missy. I meant no harm,” he walked out into the rain, leaving the umbrella standing by the door.
There was no mood left for writing, it took every ounce of my energy to stop myself from running after him. I regretted ever allowing him to kiss me on that first day on the sandbar. I hoped someone in his family could give him a shoulder to lean on and some words to lift his spirits. I had not noticed the dynamics of his family’s relationships, so I didn’t know if he could find a sympathetic ear. I hoped and prayed that he could.
I went to sleep late that night, thinking both of René and Michael. I wondered if René had found his calling in life and if he was missing me. Then I thought again of Michael and I wondered where his life was going to lead him now that I had refused his love.
I slept through the night with many nightmares that kept me tossing and turning. The storm lasted through until the early hours of the next day, the rain pounding heavily. I heard the sound of the angry sea thrashing the surf against the shore. When I finally awoke at daybreak, it was to the sound of the surf hitting the shores. The tide was high and rough from the previous night’s raging storm. It had passed but left behind remnants of its merciless force.
Irma came to knock on my door just as I came out of the shower. The hot water running down my body gave me some relief from the previous night’s agonies: Michael and the storm.
“Missy, come, Larry and René are on the phone.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I grabbed my jeans and put them on quickly and ran up to the main house. The cottages were not hooked up to the phone lines and so calling or receiving calls was only possible in the Andersons’ house. When I arrived, Irma was talking to Larry. She then handed the phone over to me.
“Missy? How are you, I miss seeing your beautiful face. We are in Toronto now. We will be loading soon and then we will leave after a few days of rest.”
“I miss you too, René. It’s not the same without you. Hurry back.”
“We should be in Virginia before Christmas and I will see you then.”
“Take care of yourself. I love you,” I had to say that to him again, but I heard no reply; he had already hung up the phone.
Irma gave me a hug of comfort, seeing my stunned and disappointed expression. I must have looked silly waiting for a confirmation of love from René. She knew it hurt me terribly, always wondering where I stood with him.
“It’s OK. I’ll be fine,” I said to console her.
We got down to preparing breakfast for the Roberts family; however, there was no sign of any of them.
By 10:30, the food was getting cold and Irma had to send Fred to check the guest house for any signs of movement. When the door opened, as Fred left, we heard Sally’s faint voice coming from somewhere far down the beach.
“Michael? Michael?” she was calling out loudly.
Fred came back a few minutes later and asked,
“Have you seen Michael?”
Before I could answer, I felt a gut-wrenching pain in the pit of my stomach and my voice froze. I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t. I just stood there with a blank stare on my face, white as a sheet.
“Missy, what’s wrong?” Irma asked.
“I saw him last night, just for a minute,” I dared to say.
“And?” Fred wanted more information.
“He went back to his house,” I said.
“They’ve been looking for him all morning. He is nowhere to be found.”
We all put on some sort of jacket, as it was much cooler outside and there was a brisk westerly wind blowing. Someone had checked the parking lot and all the vehicles were there, so we assumed he was still somewhere close by. I thought of the sandbar. I took Fred with me in the northern direction, battling the fierce wind blowing sand into our faces. Bob, David and Sally went toward the opposite direction and Sheila stayed with Irma, in a hysterical state, at the house.
We all came back to the house, exhausted, but without Michael.
“Where can he be?” Sheila asked between sobs. “I saw him after dinner last night.”
“Me too,” David said.
“I saw him leave the house, but he didn’t say where he was going,” Bod added.
I had no choice but to share my brief encounter with Michael.
“He came by my place for a few minutes, but he left soon after,” I said sadly.
“Why would he do that?” Sheila asked.
“Because we were together during the day and he had forgot to give me back the change from the money I gave him. He came over to return the money to me,” I lied.
“In the pouring rain?” Fred asked.
“What can I say? I was surprised too,” I started to cry.
“We’ll find him, he’s probably walking around somewhere,” Bob said, trying to reassure his mother, who was crying uncontrollably.
“Maybe he took Rufus for a walk, has anyone seen the dog?” David asked.
“No. Let’s go out again and look,” Sally said hopefully.
We all got dressed again and ran up and down the beach shouting and whistling for Rufus. Far in the distance, up toward the north, we saw Rufus running down toward us, he was a mere red dot in the distance and it appeared he was being followed by some men dressed in navy blue suits.
Fred was the first one to greet them. Rufus had run right passed him and straight to Sally’s side. From the sound that Fred made, we all started to cry and stop in our tracks, unable to approach the police officers who had obviously given Fred some sort of horrific news. I turned back toward the house because I was in a state of denial and shock.
“Missy, what is going on? Why was everyone shouting? Where is Fred? What has happened? Speak to us,” Irma was holding and shaking me, but I was motionless, speechless and non-responsive.
Fred came into the house alone and went to pour himself a shot of bourbon.
“Fred, talk to me,” Irma yelled at him, trying to snap him into reality.
“Michael was found. He drowned,” then Fred wept.