A Walk Along the Beach by Debbie Macomber Page 0,42

first, he was able to work only an hour at a time; then two, then four. By the end of the week, Joanna, worried that Sean was pushing himself too hard, asked me to drag him away from his computer.

“He’s been holed up in his workroom for nearly six hours. That can’t be good for him,” she complained to me over the phone. “He doesn’t eat. Can you come?”

“Not until later.” I sympathized with her. I was concerned, too. The way I figured it, Sean’s ability to concentrate was self-limiting. He’d know when it was time to give it up for another day. Taking him away from his work wasn’t something I wanted to do. No one appreciated being pulled from a project while in the groove.

“He was like this as a youngster, too,” Joanna complained. “The worst was when he first got involved in baseball. He’d practice hitting the ball for hours, until he had blisters on his hands from holding the bat. From the time I can remember, he’s always been driven. I worry about him.”

“Watching him drive himself like that must have been hard on you.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she said and sighed. “All I ask is that you stop by the house as soon as you can.”

“I will,” I assured her. What I didn’t tell her was that I was deeply involved in getting the event for Relay for Life organized. Every minute I wasn’t at Bean There or with Sean, I was working on the event with Annie Keaton. The date was set for Friday, August 14. We had walkers willing to volunteer to circle the high school track for every hour except between two and three. The wee hours of the morning were always the most difficult to fill.

Mellie Young preferred those early-morning turns and chose to walk between one and two. Rather than let the following hour between two and three go blank, I penciled in my name. Since I was up early most mornings, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.

Dinner was on the table when I arrived at Sean’s. “I’m sorry to be so late,” I said, “I got hung up working on the Relay for Life event.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Joanna said, setting food on the table. “A friend of ours was involved. She told me that although it’s nationwide, it started in Washington State.”

“That’s what I understand.”

“Everyone knows someone who has dealt with cancer. It’s long past time to eradicate the disease.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” I said.

Sean came into the kitchen, kissing my cheek and then his mother’s before sitting down. He looked drawn, and I realized his mother had reason to be concerned. He was doing too much too soon, and I feared he might relapse.

His mother and I shared a look, and it was as if she’d silently shouted the words: I told you so.

“We leave first thing in the morning,” Patrick told me, as we passed the fresh green salad around the table.

While aware his parents would be returning to Arizona, I was surprised by how much I hated to see them go. Spending time with Joanna reminded me of how desperately I missed my own mother. I hadn’t talked to my father in weeks and he hadn’t returned my most recent phone calls. Busy as I was caring for Sean and my efforts for Relay for Life, I hadn’t reached out in the last week. Watching how Sean’s family had gathered around him, I regretted that I hadn’t tried harder with my own father.

After dinner, I helped with the dishes and then joined Sean on the back patio while his parents settled down in front of the television. The UNO pack was out, but I noticed he hadn’t opened the box. Tired as he was, this wasn’t a good night for games.

The evening was perfect. The weather was cooling down with a gentle breeze, wafting the scent of pine from the tall fir trees that surrounded Sean’s property. He reached for my hand and I could see how tired he was.

“I’ve enjoyed spending time with your parents.”

“I’m glad you didn’t run for the hills,” Sean joked. “My mother can be a bit much. It’s the attorney in her; you should see her in the courtroom. I know judges who are afraid of her.”

I could see Joanna fiercely defending her clients.

“Count your blessings you have your mother,” I told him, feeling the loss of my own. I’d lost