Chapter Sixteen

Memories were like the tides.

Mary Alice Monroe, Beach House Memories

Shane met Colleen, Hallie and Dad at the pub’s back door. His face was set with tight control, his fists clenched at his sides. A cloudless sky was turning the early pink shades of twilight, the air still and hot. “What did they say?” No preamble, no greeting.

Gavin answered. “It’s not good news, son, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m going to walk into my pub right now and enjoy trivia night. I’m going to have my one whiskey. I’m going to love you and love Hallie and love Lena. Nothing about that changes.” He nodded at his children and opened the back door and disappeared inside.

Hallie pointed after him. “Let me go with him. Colleen can catch you up.” She slipped inside with her satchel and her papers and her ponytail flapping.

Shane exhaled and leaned against the building, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Just damn. Tell me everything.”

“First, before I forget—when I got out of the shower today, the stove burner was on and he was about to go out in the johnboat.”

Shane rubbed his temples. “I knew this was coming. We have to make plans now.”

Colleen went to him with a hug. This was the boy she’d held when he scabbed a knee or became scared during a thunderstorm. This was the boy she’d taught to hook a worm and throw a net. “I’ve missed you so much,” Colleen said into his shoulder.

“Me, too, sis. Me, too.”

“Shane.” She stepped back. “We are running out of time. Your idea to catch his memories—we have to do it now. The doc said there’s no question . . .”

The sound of the squeaking hinges stopped Colleen’s statement and Gavin emerged. He propped open the back door with his foot and in his free hand he held a garbage bag. He took a few steps toward the dumpster and threw the bag in before turning to his children. “Is something wrong and I don’t know about it? You look so serious.”

Twilight filtered through the Spanish moss, spilling light like strained honey onto their dad’s face. He squinted at his children. Shane took two steps toward him. “Dad, we were just talking about your doctor’s appointment today.”

“My doctor’s appointment?”

Shane and Colleen exchanged glances. “Yes, Dad. We went to Jacksonville today.”

Gavin rubbed at his face, wiping away a film of forgetfulness. “I’m sick, aren’t I?”

“Not sick.” Shane came to Gavin’s side. “Remember? It’s Alzheimer’s.”

Those two words next to each other hit Colleen: Remember plus Alzheimer’s equals Irony.

Gavin’s face broke into sadness. “Ah, yes. Well, that’s a hell of a thing to have, isn’t it?”

Shane’s voice shook. “We’re here, Dad. We are here for you.”

Colleen looped her arm through her dad’s and, together, they walked inside. Colleen cut through the back room and into the main area to sidle to the edge of the bar, with Shane on the other side. Gavin joined a group of friends at the dartboard and his boisterous laughter could soon be heard across the room. Colleen spoke to Shane in almost a whisper. “One thing the doc told me is that ritual and familiarity are two of the most calming forces for Dad. So having him here is good for him.”

“We have to talk to Hallie and make plans,” Shane said. “We have to . . .”

He abruptly quit speaking and Colleen followed his gaze to the front door, where a man entered the pub. Backlit in the setting sun he appeared as a silhouette, a cutout. As the door shut, he walked toward the middle of the room and his form became clear, the sunlight a spotlight: Walter.

He caught Colleen’s gaze.

She wanted to tear her eyes from his, to run, to at least move, but none of that happened. She froze.

She realized now that in her memory he’d been taller. How could that be? Damned unreliable memory. He, too, stopped still, standing halfway across the room.

“Oh, shit,” Shane said softly enough for only Colleen to hear. “Just what we need.”

His blue eyes. She could see them from where she stood. His wavy dark hair. His mouth was open in surprise, and her gaze was drawn to his lips. Those lips that had kissed her everywhere.

Her heart paused and then she was swept back in time: She was in a bridal veil with Swarovski crystals sewn by hand into swirling patterns. She was holding a bottle of champagne. She was sick and dizzy, and she couldn’t move one step toward or away from him. How had she thought she was now okay?

A hand grabbed her arm, pulling her backward. “Lena!” It was Shane.

An electric shock ran from her brother’s hand to her heart and jumped it back to life. She shook her shoulders to free herself from her brother and took long, purposeful steps toward Walter until she stood in front of him.

“Hello, Walter.” She would be the strong one. She would not show weakness. She would hold her head high. He would never, ever know how much he’d hurt her. And even more, he would regret his rejection of her.

“Hi, Lena. Lordy, you look exactly the same. You’re so beautiful.” He smiled, so charming.

“You’re despicable,” she said, low and quiet, her hands stiff at her sides.

For all the practiced speeches, for all the times she’d imagined this moment, for all the eloquent words she’d manufactured in her journal and in her mind, those were the two words that fell from her mouth.

Walter burst into laughter and spread his arms wide. “There’s my girl.”

“Your girl?” Colleen’s voice shook.

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“I mean you haven’t changed. Full of fire and spit.” He reached forward for a hug.

Colleen, so stunned she couldn’t react, allowed him to put his arms around her. He squeezed tightly and she froze until he released her and stepped back. “I’m hoping we can all be a family now, Lena. I hate that it’s your dad’s illness that brought you back, but let’s all try.”

“Try to be a family?” She repeated his words as though he’d been speaking in another language, and she was translating.

“Well, we are, aren’t we?” He winked at her.

He winked!

Nausea rose so quickly that her body finally took action and she ran for the back room, through the swinging doors and out to the alleyway.

In the pub parking lot, taking gulps of fresh air, Colleen’s body-memory flew back in time. She sensed Walter’s mouth on her, his words and his promises as fresh as though he were saying them now. She bent over and placed her hands on her knees, drew in a deep breath.

She and Walter in bed together, a rumpled white comforter tangled between them. Sunrise filtered through Walter’s bedroom window, which faced east toward the river that, in turn, flowed right past her own house. She reclined sideways, her elbow bent with her head propped in her palm. Walter trailed his fingers along her neck and then down her body, his lips following. “You’re my family now,” he said.

“We’re a package deal,” she told him, the desire rising again. She folded her leg over his to pull him closer and closer still. “Do you realize that if we floated along the river from here, we’d end up right at my family’s dock? We’re tied together by water.”

“Meant to be,” he said.

She felt him hard against her thigh and again they made love with the fervor of those who believe they will never get enough of each other. Their bodies were the same as the river outside, drawing them together with every tide.

A bang of the back pub door and Colleen shook herself from the vivid remembrance. She hated him. She wanted him. She loved him. No, she didn’t. She hated him.

“Are you okay?” The voice startled Colleen and she stood quickly, becoming off balance and falling back to catch herself on Beckett’s arm. “What?”

“I saw you run out, and I thought . . .”

“You thought what?”

“That you didn’t look well.”

Colleen tried to smile. “Just needed to catch my breath.”

“Are you sick? Can I get you some water or something . . .” He reached for her hand and took it, lifted it to his lips to kiss her palm. So gentle; so sweet.

“It’s not the kind of sickness that can be helped with water.” She squeezed his hand.

“What is it then?”

“Memories,” she said. “A sickening memory that came alive and then walked through the door; one I’ve tried to forget.”

“Trying to forget never works.” He smiled at her as if they were in on a secret together.

“Well, isn’t that the hell of it all? My dad wants to remember and he can’t. I want to forget and I can’t.”

“I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” Colleen shook her head and let go of his hand. “So very sorry.”

“I know a great place to forget for a while, a place where we can see the stars. They give me perspective. Come with me?”

“If it means I don’t have to head back inside, then I’m good to go.”

The back pub door swung open again, spilling a funnel of light onto the gravel driveway as Walter and Hallie stepped onto the threshold. Hallie crossed her arms over her chest; he gesticulated wildly. What world had Colleen fallen into that she had to watch this now? She pressed herself against the dumpster and pulled Beckett toward her. “Shh . . .”

“I saw you, Walter.” Hallie’s voice held back tears; Colleen knew the sound well.

“Saw me?” Walter’s smooth voice, so seductive and calm, so caring and sweet.

“Hug my sister. I saw you. Did you kiss her, too?”

A great rip of laughter burst from Colleen. She slammed her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Walter and Hallie turned toward her, moving out of the light to see Beckett and Colleen. “I’m sorry,” Colleen said. “It’s not funny, is it?”

“Not funny at all.” Hallie stepped toward her sister.

“But it is,” Colleen said. “Can’t you see that? Nothing happened and look at how you feel. Feel how you feel.” Colleen felt the veracity moving in waves, and she came closer to Hallie in the darkness. “Imagine you’re in a wedding dress. Imagine you have no idea. Imagine . . .”

Hallie made a soft noise in the back of her throat. “We have children . . . we have a family.”

“I was your family!” Colleen spread her hands wide. “We were your family. But you chose him.” The grief rose and Colleen turned to Beckett for help.

Beckett held out his hand and Colleen took it. “Come with me,” he said.

Hallie stepped back to stand next to her husband. Colleen kept her eyes on Beckett. She allowed herself to be guided by his hand and the faint glow of the pub light. “Where are we headed?”

“Do you have to know everything?” he asked.

“Yes, I believe I do.”