A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,107
if I’m not busy.”
His smile rivaled the summer sun. “Great. How about Wednesday? Didn’t you once tell me that was your least busy day of the week?”
That he would remember that small detail told me that he had paid attention. “All right. Wednesday.”
I was rewarded with another brilliant smile. My body automatically leaned toward him, as if drawn by a powerful magnetic pull. I fought against it and nearly spilled my coffee, looking to escape him.
By the time Wednesday rolled around, I was agitated and nervous.
“What’s gotten into you?” Shirley asked me that morning soon after we opened for business.
“Nothing.” I hadn’t told her, hadn’t told anyone I was taking time out of my morning to sit and talk with Sean.
Hands on her hips, Shirley glared at me. “Are you still not sleeping?”
“No…It’s worse than ever.” The melatonin didn’t work any better than the other sleep medication I’d purchased over the counter. Nothing seemed to cure my insomnia. In desperation, I’d made a second appointment with Dr. Annie. I’d given the melatonin a fair shot.
Sean arrived at the same time as usual, collected his order, and returned to the same table where we’d last met. Without a customer in sight, I didn’t have an excuse not to join him. Taking my mug with me, I sat down across the table from him.
“Do I look heavier than the last time you saw me?” he asked.
I grinned. “The last time I saw you was only a few days ago,” I reminded him.
“I ate the entire cake. It was delicious. I had it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Best cake in the universe.”
Sean knew exactly what to say to make me smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Knowing you baked it for me was the secret ingredient.”
Unwilling to let him know how pleased I was at his appreciation, I lowered my head.
“So, how’s it going with your dad living with you?” he asked, easing into the conversation.
“Pretty well thus far, although I think we’re going to need to find another apartment soon. Snowball is bigger now, and we won’t be able to keep her hidden much longer.”
“Are you sure you can’t talk the landlord into agreeing to let you keep the cat? You’re a good tenant and I doubt they want to lose you.”
“It will probably be best if we did move,” I said, although I hated the idea. “Dad prefers a house. Now that he’s working at the hardware store, he’s wanting a garage for a work area. That will be good for him. He used to do a bit of woodworking and always enjoyed it.”
“If I hear of a house for rent, I’ll let you know.”
I hadn’t made the effort to look, preferring to put it off until necessary. “That would be great.”
His gaze held mine. “How are you, Willa?”
“Good,” I answered quickly, probably too quickly.
Reaching across the table, he captured my hand. “No, you’re not. You’re pale and there are shadows under your eyes.”
He was smart enough not to mention the weight I’d lost. I heard enough about that from Shirley, who had made it her life goal to fatten me up. So far her efforts hadn’t worked. I shrugged, answering without answering.
He continued to look at me, silently demanding an answer.
“I’m having a bit of trouble sleeping,” I reluctantly admitted. “I’ve been in to see Dr. Annie and have made another appointment. She’s not eager to give me a prescription drug, for fear it will become habit-forming.” I understood her concerns, but I was at the point that I no longer cared. All I needed, all I wanted, was one night of decent sleep. One good night would change everything.
His hand tightened around mine. “Insomnia is only natural after everything you’ve been through.”
I’d heard that from Annie. That didn’t make it any more bearable. “I’m sure it will pass in time.”
“If there’s anything I can do…”
“At this point, I doubt there’s much that anyone can.” I hated to sound depressed and sad. Lack of sleep left me bone-weary and feeling hopeless.
“I’m serious. If you want to talk in the middle of the night, call. I’ll sing you back to sleep.”
“Funny.”
“I’m serious.”
* * *
—
At two in the morning, I stared up at the ceiling, wide awake, fighting back tears of frustration. Was it too much to ask for a good night’s sleep? Just one night. I’d prayed, I’d begged God to let me rest, but no matter what I did, my mind refused to stop. Every time I