To the Beach and Back

Chapter 12

There's a chill in the air when I step onto the front porch early the next morning, a cup of coffee in one hand and my phone tucked my pajama pocket. Sadie follows me, sniffing in deeply with her chin raised before scrambling down the stairs to do her morning business.

I lean against the railing, watching my old dog as she ambles to a patch of grass, her back legs wobbling almost bowlegged with each step. I frown as she squats, wondering how much longer she'll be able to handle the effort, wondering when it will be the time for me to make that hard decision. After all, she is sixteen. Australian Blue Heelers only live an average of fourteen to sixteen years.

Is it time?

Sadie finishes and then investigates a suspicious patch of weeds with her ears perked before trotting back to the porch and bounding up the steps with the gusto of a young dog. I stroke her head, that's now more white than gray but her eyes still clear and beautiful. "Is that your way of telling not yet, girl?"

She answers by lying down, ready to take her first of twenty naps of the day. Good idea. I sit on a blue Adirondack chairs and look out onto the nearly-empty street. A lone runner trots by, eyebrows furrowed and mouth turned down as she glances at her watch, clearly not satisfied with her progress.

That was always me at the beach.

Each time we came, I felt a pressing need from sunrise to sunset to be doing something, some kind of activity in order to not waste the day, always busy, busy, busy. Or I'd clean as part of my nonstop quest to keep a tidy house, sweeping up sand, washing beach towels, picking up after Nick and Wesley, never just relaxing, leaving me even more tired once we go home than before.

Sadie stretches, turning over to her side, blissful in her wallowing state. That's what I should do today. Just wallow. Relax. Read a book.

Just be.

But ... what about Haven? I still need to order a dumpster ... I should have done that immediately after seeing how trashed the place was. And contractors ... I need to start making phone calls even though it's highly unlikely anyone will be available so last-minute. After all, that's what I'm here for. To work.

I sigh and pull out my phone in hopes that Dave followed through with his promise to email me a list of potential contacts. He did, thank goodness, with two attached PDF files that I send to Ryan's wireless printer before reading Dave's message.

Hey, Marcie, thanks again for the wonderful time last night...

My face instantly burns.

Yes, it was wonderful ... until it wasn't. I hold the phone to my chest, remembering his reaction to my non-stop apologies as we sailed away from the scene of our near-sexual encounter under a sky full of stars.

"Marcie, stop! I had a great time tonight. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Yeah, everything was amazing ... until my freak out down below."

He grinned, leaning back in the white-leather chair as a seagull swooped level with the water, looking for a meal. "Oh, please. I own a beach bar, so I've seen some freak-outs, okay? No. That was not a freak out, that was just you figuring out what boundaries you're comfortable with during this new season of your life. I respect that."

Boundaries and respect.

Back when I was young and dating, I would have thought it was rude to lead a guy on like I did last night, only to say pull back at the last minute. What did Nick say on our third date, after I pulled back in hesitation during a steamy make-out session on the front seat of his Buick? "Don't tease me, now, unless you plan on following through."