When We Touch

“When Jack went to school, his father and I agreed your relationship should follow the normal course of high school relationships. It should end.” She isn’t answering my question about Jackson’s mom, but I’m distracted enough by what she is saying to let it go.

“What did you do?” My insides are quaking. I’m not sure if my hands are shaking from fear or anger, but I have to know the answer to this question.

“We simply agreed to encourage you both to see other people.”

“Jackson said his father showed him a picture of me with Mason Green. His father told him I’d been promised to Mason, and we were getting married as soon as I graduated and were heading to the mission field together.”

My mother’s eyes flutter and she looks to the ceiling. “If only the lord would grant me such a noble daughter. Instead I have you—willful and unworthy of my love.”

The knot in my throat twists so tight it’s physically painful. “Did you tell Jackson’s dad I was engaged to Mason Green?”

Her eyes narrow, and she steps closer to me. “Randall Lockwood came to me with a proposition. If I wouldn’t block his attempts in the city council to get approval for his new development, he would see to it Jackson never came back here for you again. He’s a liar just like his son. He traded you for the right to destroy this town.”

“And you gave it to him.”

She glares at me a moment longer before striding from the room, Sunday’s sermon clutched tight in her hand.

Idolatry.

Greed.

Lies.

I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I take two steps backwards before finding my footing and going to the front door. I’m having trouble breathing, and all I can think is I have to get to Coco. I want to find my daughter and take her home. I’m not leaving her in this house another second.

The wind swirls around the wooden structure, captured by the series of pillars, rails, and awnings. It’s a natural wind tunnel. I look up the road at the unsuspecting people working in their yards like it’s any other day and not the most significant day in almost eleven years.

For them it’s not.

It’s just another Saturday.

Looking across the street, I see Betty Pepper still huffing around her yard. She bends over and straightens a garden gnome. His pointed red cap extends past her shoulder as she grunts. I know all about you and your family…

I’m off the porch and hustling across the street again as the old woman stands and sees me.

“What do you want?” she grumbles, jerking her blouse down to cover the straining button on her Bermuda shorts.

“You’ve lived here, across the street from my parents’ house since before I was born?”

“I’ve lived here for fifty-one years, Emberly Warren, and you’ll do good to remember that.” Her pale face is pink around the edges, and wisps of grey hair fly in the breeze.

“I was talking to my momma just now… she said something about Beverly Cane destroying my family the same way Randall destroyed the town.”

“She did?” The old woman’s eyes flash round, and I know I made the right decision coming here. “I can’t believe she’d dredge up that old baggage.”

“What did she mean?”

“You know very well what she meant. Randall Lockwood developed Oceanside Beach, and all the tourists left here. They all went to the strand, and our economy dried up.” She walks along the inside of her picket fence.

I follow along the outside. “And Beverly Cane?”

She sniffs and lifts her chin. “I’m not one to go around spreading dirt about the dead. It’s disrespectful.”

“It’s still my family.” I give a little smile, hoping she’ll soften.

“Speaking of disrespectful, you need to learn to respect your elders. Attacking me when I was simply asking if you’d seen Bucky…”

“You’re right,” I nod, doing my very best to look apologetic. “I had no right to speak to you that way. I think the heat is making me tired.” Tired of the bullshit.