A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,100
the one to comfort her. “Bandit,” I ordered, “come.”
Although it was hard, I left Willa. Bandit raced back and forth between us as if seeking a way to bring us together. By the end of thirty minutes, he was exhausted and lay down on the sand, panting.
Just as I left the beach, it started to rain. Willa remained, walking in the drizzle as if unaware the heavens were weeping with her.
* * *
—
The following day, I returned at the same time. As soon as I undid his leash, Bandit took off, running to Willa. She greeted him again but didn’t look to see where I was. After a few minutes of giving Bandit love and attention, she continued walking. I didn’t approach her, although she had to know I was on the beach.
On the third and fourth day she didn’t show. I got the message. If I was going to invade this private time she took to grieve, then she planned to not come. My frustration mounted. This wasn’t working. If nothing else, I needed to let her know I’d stay away. She wanted that time alone, and I would give her that.
Although I was tempted to stop by the house and tell her, I waited until the following morning when I went for my mocha. Willa was at the counter. She stiffened when she saw me.
“What can I get you today?” she asked, addressing me as if we were strangers.
“The usual,” I said in even tones.
She quickly brewed my mocha and set it on the counter.
I handed her the money, but when she went to take the bill, I held on to the cash. “I won’t be going to the beach any longer.”
She looked up and I met her gaze. It was the first time since our last conversation at my house that she’d bothered to make eye contact with me.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Seeing my chance, I spoke. “I’d do anything I could to help you, but you need to know something, Willa. I’m here for the long haul. I’m not going away. I love you, and that’s not going to change.”
Her eyes glistened and she swallowed tightly before she said, “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Not happening, love.” I started to turn away before I remembered the question I wanted to ask. “Say, did your dad get that job at the hardware store?”
“Yes…How did you know about that?”
“He mentioned it the other day.”
“Oh.” She seemed pleased for him. “He’s excited about it.”
This was the longest conversation we’d had in weeks. By this time, I was starved for encouragement, some sign that would give me hope. Brief as our conversation was, it buoyed my spirits.
As I left the shop, I saw Stan Lakey climbing out of his car. With my drink in my hand I approached him. “Hey, I hear congratulations are in order. You got the job.”
His grin was huge. “I’m grateful.” He rubbed his hand down his pants leg. “Have to say I’m not looking forward to the move, though.”
“You need help with that?”
He frowned as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Are you volunteering?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it.” At his age, packing and hauling boxes wouldn’t be easy.
“Willa said she’d stop by after she closed, but I was hoping to get an early start.”
“Then I’m your man.”
He hesitated, as if he still wasn’t sure I was sincere. “You don’t need to do this, son.”
“Don’t need to,” I agreed. “Want to.”
“For Willa?”
No need hiding my motive. “For Willa and for you. As you said, she hasn’t seen much of me lately. This will show her what I’ve been trying to say with action rather than words.”
“Then who am I to stop you,” he said with a chuckle.
He gave me the address of the trailer park where he was currently renting and suggested we meet in the next hour. Knowing he’d need boxes, I stopped off and collected a few from various locations.
Stan arrived before I did and opened the door when I knocked. “I didn’t tell Willa you were going to be here; she’ll find out soon enough when she stops by later.”
“Good.” That was what I wanted. If she knew, she might stay away, and that would defeat my purpose.
“She’s a stubborn one; you need to be patient.”
“She’s worth whatever time it takes.”
Stan nodded. “Glad to know you appreciate her.”
He led the way into his small trailer kitchen. “Don’t suppose I’ll have much need of anything here. Never did much cooking.