Journey's Child

10

I stayed close to the cottage for the rest of the day. Having come in contact with the 'beach bullies', my new name for the local kids, twice in one day was enough for me. I was not as eager to start my investigation of the stranger and his dog.

I hung out down at our beach while my mom wrote and drank wine. Towards evening, as the sun moved west blanketing the sky with a white light, I started to walk back up the trail. I was surprised to run into a girl around my age, coming down to the beach.

"Hi," she greeted with a friendly smile.

"Hey," I responded.

"Are you staying at the cottages?"

"Yes, are you?" I shot back defensively.

"Yes, I'm here with my mom and her boyfriend. We're staying until Friday."

"I'm here with my mom," I told her. "What's your name?"

We exchanged stories. Her name was Linda and she was eleven years old. She wore her medium brown hair real short. She was thin with pale skin and freckles that were almost as light as her complexion. She seemed happy and friendly, two emotions I hadn't seen for quite some time, so I was glad to visit with her and remember how I used to feel.

*

We ended up spending the week together, hanging out and confiding in each other. Her mom and her mom's boyfriend weren't very friendly, but they left us alone. They visited with my mom sometimes, but I didn't pay much attention.

On the day before Linda was to leave we hung out in an alcove we found at low tide. It was a small area with high rock walls. The tide was still going out, so we talked and beach combed, forgetting the rest of the world. I was really happy that day with Linda, giggling and kicking at the waves. We had become friends, both of us a little lost and unhappy and uncertain.

"I wish you weren't leaving tomorrow," I told her.

"Me too, but my grandma wants to see me before I go."

"Where are you going?"

"To heaven," she said looking straight at me. "I have Leukemia. The doctors' can't make me better anymore, so I'm going to die."

"Oh," was all I could think to say. "I'm sorry you're sick."

Linda smiled and held out her hand that was holding the shells she had picked up. "I hope heaven has oceans and beaches just like this, with beautiful sea shells."

"Yes, and it will always be summer," I added. "I bet my little brother Sam will be there, too. He loves the beach."

Linda smiled at me shyly, "I'll look for him when I get there."

"That would be great! Tell him I said hi, would you?"

She nodded and I put my arm around her shoulders as we walked through the waves on our last day together.

I moped around the cottage the entire weekend after Linda left. I missed her more than I missed Susannah, who I had known since kindergarten.

*

After three days, my mother made me go outside and find something to do. I wished I could drink wine and smoke cigarettes and sleep most of the time like she did. I couldn't, so I went for a walk into town. I had seen some lip gloss at the emporium and I thought I might give it a try.

As I walked up a side street, the stranger and his dog walked past in the same rushed manner as before. I hurried to catch up and kept a short distance as I followed them down Main Street. The stranger was carrying a large package under his arm. He stopped in front of one of the art galleries and made a hand signal to his dog who laid down against the building. I slowly approached the gallery. Keeping my distance from the dog, who showed no interest in me, I looked through the window as the stranger and the man behind the counter did their business.

The stranger had given the man the package he had been carrying. The man looked like he was happy with it and he shook the stranger's hand. I walked down several shops before he came out and signaled to his dog.

Just at that moment...

"Hey, Gilly, where have you been?" Debbie's voice came at me like a swarm of bees.

I flinched and looked over at the stranger, who glanced towards us before moving down the street.

"Hi," I said, hoping to get away quickly.

"Was that your mom with you at the store the other night?" Ben asked.

"Yes," I answered waiting for the comeback.

"She's pretty," he said smiling at me.

"Thanks."

"Well, we've got to go," Debbie piped in. "We just came to town to get some treats for tonight." She paused for a moment then added with a snotty attitude, "We're going to the drive-in with our parents."

"Okay. Bye." I said maybe a little too quickly.

She let out a big sigh. "Let's go."

I watched them all walk off, the beach bullies, I thought to myself. I headed back down the street feeling stronger than I had since we got here. I knew meeting Linda had given me more courage. As I passed the art gallery, I came to a dead stop. The man was hanging a picture in the window.

I stood staring at the ocean scene that came to life on the canvas. It was a stormy ocean, churning under a dark threatening sky. The colors were deep and beautiful and sad. I felt a pain, like a cramp in my chest as I looked at the painting. There was a thread of light breaking through the clouds way off in the horizon. It felt like the light I had always heard about when you die. Go to the light, people would say. That's the way to heaven, I told myself, wondering if my dad and Sam saw a light like that one. I hoped so and I hoped Linda would see it too. The picture so grabbed at me that I went inside to ask the man about it.

"I'm sorry," he said, not looking or sounding a bit sorry, "children are not allowed in the gallery unless they're with an adult."

"Okay," I said, "but can you tell me who painted that picture?"

The man looked at me suspiciously. "You like it?"

"It's beautiful and sad at the same time. I love the colors."

"Well," he began, "that would be the artist's intent. Thaddeus Squire is a local painter. He just dropped this off matter-of-fact."

"Does he live around here?" I asked.

"Not far, but he doesn't like visitors. He's what is known as a recluse, so to speak. He lives alone and paints. He has quite a following in the Bay Area. He's made a name for himself."

"Are his paintings very expensive?" I asked, hoping I might buy this one and hang it in my room.

"Oh yes. This one here is fifteen hundred dollars. Thaddeus is kind enough to let the gallery handle one or two of his paintings each summer. We sometimes get tourists who will buy a painting of where they vacationed, and Thaddeus Squire is known in the art world."

"Well, thanks. I guess I'll just have to look at it in the window when I come to town."

I turned to leave when the man spoke again, "You can come in if you want. You have a good eye for art, young lady."

Exiting the store, I turned and walked back the way Thaddeus Squire and his dog had gone. I wanted to know more about this man.