Authors: Mariah Stewart
On Sunset Beach (11 page)
“I agree.” He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t aware of how deeply you care about the paper and what it means to you. I’m glad you kept it going all these years, Mom. I’m happy that there’s something in your life that gives you so much satisfaction.”
“Thank you, dear. You know the old recipe for happiness—I’d say I have all the ingredients.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know that one.”
“Someone to love, something to do, something to
look forward to. I’m such a lucky woman to still have all those things in my life.” She was smiling but her eyes grew wary as she added, “Now tell me, what are you looking forward to?”
“Right now I’m looking forward to finishing this delicious breakfast and taking out a kayak and making it all the way down to Cambridge and back before lunch.”
He returned her smile but knew that the answer he gave wasn’t the one she was hoping to hear, but he couldn’t have answered any other way. Someone to love? The woman he’d once loved was dead. Something to do? At the moment, he had no idea what he wanted to do with the rest of his life—and seriously, what did he have to look forward to now?
It was sobering to think that his mother, who was well into her seventies, had a life that was much more fulfilling and complete than his.
And what, he wondered, did that say about him?
Diary ~
Happy me! I’ve been waiting forever, it seems, to have all three of my children under the same roof. What a joy to see my wandering boy’s face again!
Now truth be told, my boy’s face is thinner than it should be—actually, all of him is too thin. And there are things inside him—dark things—that I cannot read. I’d thought the fog I’d sensed would lift once he was home, but it hasn’t. He’s here physically, but sometimes it’s as if he’s somewhere else. I know that something is hurting him deeply but I can’t read him the way I did when he was a child
.
Which is probably a good thing, now that I think about it—after all, he is a grown man, for all I think of him as my boy
.
But on to other things—the welcome-home party should have been a happy night for Ford, but he seemed so on edge that it saddened my heart. I could feel his unease from across the room. He did, however, remember his good manners and was cordial if not pleasant to everyone
.
I just don’t know what to make of it. Dan says it’s just that Ford’s been away so long that he has to acclimate himself to being home, but somehow, that seems too simple an answer. There is a restlessness in Ford that worries me—it’s
as if he might take off at any moment and disappear again. And of course, now that he’s home, I want him to stay—though I doubt the company of his mother and his siblings alone would be enough to keep him in St. Dennis
.
My secret dream, of course, is that he’ll want to stay and take over the
Gazette
for me. I know! I know! A snowball’s chance and all that. We actually chatted about the paper and he gave me no indication that he had any interest in it at all
.
But there is nothing I wouldn’t do to make that happen
.
Oh, sure, I suppose I could resort to a spell but I hate to interfere in that manner. I mean, what if his fate really lies elsewhere?
So I guess there is something I wouldn’t do after all. But don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me!
In other news, I met with Ellie and her friend Carly Summit—the New York art dealer and gallery owner—on Saturday at Curtis’s place to discuss the proposed art gallery. I must say, Carly has some wonderful ideas for the old carriage house. I’ve already decided to do a series of interviews with her as part of a feature about the gallery. I figure if the town council starts dragging their feet, perhaps public pressure will move them along. I think the whole idea
of turning the Enright mansion into a cultural center is a wonderful idea, one that will only further St. Dennis’s reputation as a bright spot on the Eastern Shore. I cannot imagine anyone not seeing this as a good thing, but you never know when you’re dealing with the public. Here’s where I confess that my motives aren’t exactly pure. I’d invited Carly to the party hoping Ford would meet her and take a fancy to her, but he claims not to have met her. There is something about that girl … I sense she will be important in our lives in some way
.
Yes, of course I’ve asked, but the spirits haven’t been speaking to me this past week. As a matter of fact, the silence has been deafening. I do hate to whine, but what good are spirit guides if they aren’t there when you need them?
Even Alice—who used to be so reliable at times such as this—seems to have taken the summer off
.
~ Grace ~
“F
ORD
,” Dan called from the hallway after having rapped on the door once. “You in there?”
“Yeah.” Ford put down the newspaper he’d been reading and went to the door and opened it. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, really. I was just taking a short break and thought I’d check in with you, see what you were up to.”
“Come on in.” Ford stepped aside and his brother entered the room.
“Everything okay here?” Dan stood halfway between the sofa and the fireplace, and gestured with a nod of the head in the direction of the captain’s portrait. “He giving you any trouble?”
“Haven’t heard a peep out of him. He’s been on his best behavior.”
“Maybe he only likes to toy with the ladies.”
“Sit down.” Ford folded the newspaper and tossed it onto the table.
“Ah, I see Mom’s got you reading her
Gazette
.” Dan grinned and picked up the paper at the same time that he sat on the arm of the sofa.
“We were talking about it at breakfast the other day and she seemed so proud of it, I thought I’d take a look.”
“It’s actually pretty good, for a small-town newspaper. This week’s cover article about Curtis Enright’s gift to St. Dennis is great.”
“I just read about that. It’s the house down at the end of Old St. Mary’s Church Road, right?”
Dan nodded. “That big place with all the trees on the one side and the carriage house in the back.”
“Imagine owning a place like that and just giving it away.” Ford sat on the chair next to the fireplace. “Did his family have a problem with that?”
“Apparently not. Enrights have been in St. Dennis forever. Curtis has two sons—Craig, who he hasn’t spoken to in years, and Mike, who I know isn’t interested in the house. His wife is really ill and they just moved to Florida. There are a bunch of grandkids, I’m not sure how many, and from what I hear, they’ve all been taken care of in Curtis’s will, but he didn’t want to show favoritism by leaving the property to one and not the others. At the same time, he wanted to ensure that the house would always be kept up and maintained. Mom said he’s put money into a trust for that purpose, so the town couldn’t refuse to accept the property on the grounds it couldn’t afford the upkeep.” Dan stretched his legs and leaned back. “Someone else suggested that he did it so that no one who wasn’t an Enright could ever own it or live there, but I don’t know about that.”
“The article said he wanted them to turn the main house into some sort of community center.”
“That’s old news. They want an art center, and an art gallery, and a place to hold community events. Artsy stuff. Mom met with someone on Saturday who doesn’t think the house is suitable for a gallery, though. She said the old carriage house would be better.” Dan shrugged. “What do I know? Either way, if it’s good for St. Dennis and brings people into town, I’m for it.”
“From what I’m hearing, you don’t need to worry about bringing people to the inn.”
“We’re lucky, full every weekend.”
“I think it’s more than luck. Mom says you’ve made the place what it is.”
Dan shrugged. “It’s always going to be a work in progress. We try to update or bring in something new every year.”
“You’ve obviously done a great job. I can’t imagine anyone doing better.” Ford hesitated before adding, “I wish I’d been around more to give you a hand.”
“You have your own thing to do. Everyone isn’t cut out for innkeeping, but me, well, it suits me to a tee. There’s nothing else I ever wanted to do. Even when I was a kid, I knew that someday I’d run this place.”
“Win-win,” Ford said.
“Pretty much. So what about you? What’s your thing?” Dan turned to look at his brother full in the face. “I mean, now that you’ve saved the world.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t save much of anything,” Ford said.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Thanks, but not really.” Ford sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Does it have anything to do with the fact that you
were not working with the UN as a Peacekeeper?” Dan asked.
Ford tilted his head to one side and studied his brother’s face. “You knew?”
“A few years ago, D.J. had a report to do for school, and he chose the Peacekeepers as his topic since you were purportedly one of them. He did some research and brought it to me to ask how come you’d been away for so long if Peacekeepers were only supposed to serve for one year.”
“Under most circumstances, that’s true.” Ford chewed on his lower lip. “He didn’t say anything to Mom …”
“No. We told him to keep that information under his hat, that Gram would be upset if she knew that you weren’t where you said you were. He got it.” Dan laughed. “But now my son is convinced that you’re working for the CIA.”
Ford smiled weakly. “Who’s ‘we’?”
“Me and Lucy. She said she figured it out a long time ago after she saw something on TV about the UN.”
“You think Mom figured it out, too?”
Dan shook his head. “No. I think she’d have said something if she had. She was worried enough when she thought you were on Peacekeeping Missions. She’d have been nuts if she’d known you were …” He paused. “What were you doing, anyway?”
Ford got up and walked to the window. There was no way he could tell even his brother everything—every place he’d been and everything he’d done.
Finally, “I was with a special forces group that served various functions.” He chose his words very carefully.
“Most recently, we were to provide backup—security—for a group of Peacekeepers who were in Central Africa. I didn’t tell Mom ’cause I knew it would worry her.”
“And if you hadn’t come back at all?”
Ford shrugged. “Let’s just say it wasn’t my call to make, and leave it at that.”
“So who else was in this backup group in Africa?”
“Just some other special ops guys.”
“Sounds very shadowy and covert.” When Ford didn’t respond, Dan added, “Sounds like a lot of muscle to protect a couple of folks on a Peacekeeping Mission.”
“It was a dicey area.” Ford cleared his throat. “Much of Central Africa is pretty dicey these days.”
“So who were you supposed to be protecting these people from?”
“Even the answer isn’t simple. There are so many different factions fighting each other, it’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad. There are rebel troops with ties to al Qaeda. There are tribesmen who have traditionally fought with other tribes, destroyed their villages, and made off with the women and kids, and there are rebel forces that are doing the exact same thing. Then you have the legitimate government that isn’t equipped to handle all the chaos—villages being burned, women and children stolen, raped, and/or murdered, boys of nine and ten being taken to serve as soldiers. The UN had Peacekeepers on the ground, but many of them were caught in the cross fire. Getting them safely out of the country was part of our mission.”
“How’d that go?”
“Not so good,” was all Ford said.
“I’m sorry.” Dan moved from the arm of the sofa to
one of the seats. “I can see this isn’t something you want to talk about, and I’m sorry for pushing you. I had no idea …”
Ford could tell his brother was rattled.
“Look, it’s okay. You had no way of knowing since I hadn’t shared much of anything with you over the past few years. It isn’t something that I like to talk about … so much went wrong in so short a time.” Ford shrugged. “I think it was a mission set up to fail in the first place.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have a situation where people who want to do good are sent into all this chaos and you expect them to work miracles. To be a calming influence on a bunch of hotheaded egotists who are all out for their own gain. You put them in the middle of a civil war that is complicated by having outside forces—namely al Qaeda—trying to manipulate the population.” Ford shook his head. “It had disaster written all over it.”
“Why are so many factions so eager to be in control?”
“Oil,” Ford said simply. “Huge resources as yet untapped. The government hasn’t had the means to extract, refine, and move it. There are lots of folks who’d like to help them do just that.”
“So how did you manage to get out?”
“We were heavily armed and had helo support. I never figured us being in danger.”
“All of your people got out alive?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“So, what’s your status now? Are you out? In?”