A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,11

take it in. This from the man who leaped out of airplanes!

“Yup! Crazy, huh?”

“You won’t get an argument out of me.” Chantelle placed her hand over her heart. “You’re a lot braver than me.”

“No worries, I don’t plan on doing it again. This was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. I survived to tell about it.”

“Thank goodness,” I chimed in. “If I’d known what you planned that day, I wouldn’t have let you leave the house.”

“You’re such a mother,” Harper teased.

What she said was true. It was the role I’d been cast into after Mom died. My teen years were lost to me. All three of us had to grow up quickly; we’d had no choice. I’d filled in for our mother, Lucas had enlisted in the Army, and Harper, although the most protected of us three, had faced leukemia. The only one to stumble had been our father.

Chantelle checked the time. “We should leave now, or we’ll be late for dinner.”

We stood, eager to be on our way. Lucas grabbed the last two cookies and shoved them into his jacket pocket. Snickerdoodles were his favorite.

“Lucas,” Chantelle warned, “you’re going to ruin your dinner.”

Harper looked at me. “She already sounds like a wife, doesn’t she?”

Lucas sent a warning look our way, but it didn’t faze Harper. Looping her arm through Chantelle’s, she added, “I thought our brother was smart enough to know a good thing when he saw it. Apparently, I was wrong.”

“Stop,” he ordered. “That’s between Chantelle and me.”

Harper slowly shook her head. “Just saying.”

Frowning, Lucas said, “Kindly keep your thoughts to yourself, little sister.”

I knew better than to harass him. I’d basically said the same thing when we spoke earlier and had been shut down. I didn’t know what held him back, but as he’d pointed out, his and Chantelle’s relationship was none of my business.

* * *

—

Lucas drove the four of us to the casino, which was less than five miles from Oceanside on the tribal reservation. On a Friday night, the parking lot was nearly full. I was grateful Chantelle had thought far enough ahead to make reservations at the restaurant.

When we arrived at the restaurant, our father sat waiting just outside. He brightened and stood up as we approached.

“Lucas. Chantelle.” He shook hands with his son and then hugged all three of us girls. “This is great.”

“You’d think it was Thanksgiving,” Harper joked. “That was the last time all of us had dinner together.”

“It couldn’t have been,” I said, and then realized Harper was right. It had been more than seven months since we’d all been together for a meal.

Chantelle approached the hostess and we were escorted to our table. Friday nights offered a seafood buffet with crab, shrimp, salmon, and all the fixings. We decided to go for that, since Dad was on his dinner break and had only an hour. Seeing how busy the restaurant was, we couldn’t guarantee we’d be finished within sixty minutes if we ordered off the menu.

When the server came to take our drink order, we collectively held our breath, fearing Dad would opt for wine with his meal.

“Water’s good for me,” he said, smiling up at the server.

The four of us released a simultaneous sigh of relief. Once Dad started drinking, he couldn’t seem to stop. The casino had a no-drinking policy for employees while working. If Dad lost this job, I don’t know what he’d do with himself.

Once we placed our drink order, we went through the buffet and returned to the table with our plates loaded down with an abundance of seafood.

“How long are you in town for, son?” Dad asked, looking to Lucas.

“Chantelle and I will head out tomorrow afternoon.”

Dad looked a bit surprised, but then slowly nodded as if he understood.

“We’re planning on going to the cemetery to visit Mom in the morning,” I said, wanting to encourage Dad. “Won’t you come with us?”

Seeing his face fall, I wished I hadn’t asked. Even mentioning that we were going to visit Mom’s grave site was an unwelcome reminder of all he had lost. All that we’d lost as a family. It was beyond our father’s comprehension how the three of us had bonded after losing our mother. All he saw and felt was loss. I understood and didn’t judge.

“Another time,” he said, and dug into his food as if he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. And he probably hadn’t. I invited him to dinner on Sundays, my one day off from my small café,