The Beach House (11 page)

He murmured, “It’s all about letting go.”

Jo led the way from Kono’s dining patio out onto the wide boardwalk. She and Molly passed the entrance to the restaurant. It was a funky little place she had known her vegetarian friend would enjoy. They turned right and strolled by the Crystal Pier, its gate just opened now at eight o’clock to the public. Two fishermen carrying poles and pails walked through it. Only the eastern half of the sky shone brilliant blue, but sunlight crept toward the ocean, burning off the gray cloud cover in its path.

A sense of contentment washed over her.
God, thank You for Molly
.

Like the wispy sea breeze now stroking her face, the words floated in her mind—and nearly bowled her over. When was the last time she had spoken to God? There was that screaming fit directed skyward four months ago. Not exactly a heartfelt prayer of gratitude. It didn’t count.

She stole a glance at her friend. In that split moment she saw the two of them walking to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting not far from their college campus. It was to be her first. Molly held her arm and never once told her to get out from under the pile.

That was the night Jo dubbed the phenomenon that had affected her for years. She called it the “Molly Effect.” The Molly Effect both attracted and repulsed her. In it she saw the face of God, radiant love and fiery eyes. She always imagined the fire aimed at her for not being as good as Molly.

The notion was probably why she had drifted away from Molly…and why she had called her after all these years. She needed to reconcile the fire with the love.

A bicycler approached now; she and Molly skirted him. People of all ages and cultures, on foot and on an assortment of wheels, traversed the broad walkway, elevated at this point above the beach. An elderly woman in a broad-brimmed hat was setting up an easel and canvas, no doubt to capture the priceless view of pier and ocean.

Palm trees and assorted flowers lined the route. Four-story motels rose on their left, painted in soft Southwestern pastels, desert pinks and peaches. They were neatly landscaped. Steam rose from a pool and Jacuzzi in the middle of a courtyard surrounded by plexiglass dividers and lush green vegetation. Wrought iron encased balconies that faced the ocean.

Maybe they had rooms available?

“Molly.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We could—”

Where was she?

Jo stopped and scanned the area. Six feet back, Molly sat on a concrete bench along the motel side of the boardwalk. Beside her was a black man, his arms wrapped tightly around a backpack, dressed in a coat too heavy for the day. Though…it would have served him well through the night.

Jo hadn’t noticed him. But then homeless people were as prevalent as skaters, dog walkers, and bikini-clad girls. What was to notice?

She retraced her steps and approached the bench. Molly was stuffing bills into the man’s fist.

Another feeling of déjà vu enveloped Jo. She had often backtracked for Molly, finding her engaged elsewhere, usually trying to help someone.

Molly stood and met Jo a few feet from the bench. She shrugged. Wordlessly they turned and resumed their walk.

Molly said, “His name is Jimmy Mack.”

“Why am I not surprised you know his name?”

“He looked so forlorn, totally despondent. Other than his name, though, he didn’t respond.”

“He’ll just buy booze.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

Jo leaned around until Molly met her eyes. “You don’t know that he won’t, either.”

“So tomorrow I’ll buy two breakfast burritos.”

“Andie’s what?” Jo stared at Char in utter disbelief. First the ugly beach house, then the unnerving neighbor, then Molly’s unsettling questions about childhood memories of church and linking them with the List. Molly
knew
she would relate to the List! And now this.

Char, seated on the wall opposite the ugly beach house, stared at her over the rim of an ugly, multicolored, garish coffee mug. Her eyes, mere slits, proclaimed Jo’s earlier assumption correct, that Char never had become a morning person. She was not about to waste breath repeating what she had already said moments before:
Andie’s surfing with Julian
.

Molly laughed and pointed toward the ocean. “Look! There she is!”

Jo spotted the redhead as she emerged from a flattening wave. White water swirled around her legs. For all the world, she resembled a surfer! Clad in a black wet suit, hair plastered to her face, she grinned and turned to the man beside her.
Man beside her
? It was Julian, sans eyeglasses, his thick curly hair dripping.

Char murmured, “What is that orange thing?”

She noted the spongy raftlike object bobbing at Andie’s knees as the wave receded. A cord led from it, ending in a strap around her wrist. “It’s a boogie board. Something like a mini-surfboard. You lay your upper body on it, point it toward shore, and catch a wave.”

Molly propped a thumb and forefinger at the corners of her mouth and let out one of her wild whistles. Andie looked their direction and waved like a mad woman. Before Jo finished raising her own hand in response, Andie had turned away and began heading back out into deeper waters. Julian followed her.

“As I live and breathe.” Char’s voice was barely audible. “Whatever possessed that woman?”

Molly only chuckled.

Jo thought of Andie’s timidity at the ocean’s edge, her avoidance of Julian, her tears the previous night. She thought of Molly’s prayer, of Molly’s rendition earlier about herself and Andie studying the midnight sea.

The Molly Effect.

Jo shrugged. “Well, Char, all I can say is Molly prayed.”

Andie giggled like a ten-year-old and kicked wildly, clinging to the rough edges of the boogie board with both hands. Her black-sleeved arms spread out over the fire-orange slice of stiff foamlike material. Fire-orange again. It was everywhere. The beach house, the sunset, her hair. It was such a happy color. She felt slender, cellulite and rolls tucked snugly into the thick, sleek, neck-to-ankle wet suit.

A wave undulated toward her. From what Julian had taught her, she knew by its appearance it would break after rolling past her. She was not in position to ride with its curl. Instead, she waited, letting her legs dangle in the water. The wave flowed beneath her and lifted her gently. She glided down the back side of it, her face still pointed to China.

China. Absolutely nothing stood between her and that mysterious faraway country except seawater. The thought exhilarated her. Or maybe it was the realization that little Andie Mouse had stepped so incredibly far away from the wall. She had even rounded
another
corner and now stood in the midst of all that was unknown. The only thing she could control at that moment—well! She couldn’t think of a thing she could control at that moment. She was in the
ocean
, and her feet could not touch bottom! She wore a swimsuit in late
September
when Midwestern leaves were turning gold. Her hair probably looked as if it were glued to her scalp. She hadn’t even applied cheek blush. And, tucked in with all that cellulite, were a pair of decidedly nubbly legs.

Wouldn’t Paul be—Oh, there were too many adjectives to describe what he would be!

“Andie!” Julian called from a short distance away to her left. He too wore a wet suit and floated upon a boogie board. “Get ready!”

An approaching wave heaved, much larger than the previous one. She quickly rehearsed what Julian had taught her over the past hour or so. Her position and the size of the wave eliminated the option to ride over it. She could wait for it to crash atop her and get tumbled about. The clothes dryer routine cleared out her sinuses but wasn’t particularly enjoyable. She would have to dive through it, a maneuver she hadn’t quite mastered.

Without further hesitation, she kicked and pushed herself downward, down into the bowels of the rushing tower. Instant quiet enshrouded her. A moment later she emerged on the backside of the wave and expelled her breath in a hearty laugh.

“I did it!”

“Woo!”

They propelled themselves out farther. The water rippled gently, and they drifted, giving their legs a rest.

Andie crossed her arms on the board and rested her chin on them. The exhilaration calmed too, and she sighed in satisfaction. The sun warmed the back of her wet head.

Who would believe it? Not Paul. Nor the boys. Even Char wasn’t so sure, and she’d been right there watching her struggle into the wet suit.

How had she gotten there? Only Julian seemed to think it possible as he gently suggested a way to combat her fears. He had offered his assistance and patiently waited for her decision, never once pressuring. Twenty nervous, determined minutes later she met him on the sand.

“Andie!” he called now and pointed.

The sight of the incoming wave took her breath away. It raced toward them, blocking half the sky. There was no going over or through it. The thought of tumbling under it nearly strangled her.

“Julian!” she squealed.

“You can do it! Let’s go!”

Like him, she grasped the front edge of the board and kicked around in a half circle until she faced the shore.

“Go, Andie! Go!”

The roar of water swallowed his voice. Not far to her left the wave began its curl, crashing over into white water, racing in her direction like a bolt of lightening. With all her might she kicked. If she didn’t meet the white water at the exact moment it reached her, the wave would win and she would lose.

Lose. She understood losing. She’d lost her Grandmère Babette. She’d lost her dad too soon. She’d lost Paul. She was losing her sons, both off to college over the next two years. She’d lost her spunk.

She was tired of losing.

“Lord.”

The wave lifted her. Higher and higher still. She froze, her teeth gritted and her heart pounding in her throat.

And then she realized she had done it. She had caught the wave! She was one with it.

Her locked jaw released itself as did something deep inside of her. Grinning, she flew on liquid glass, the power of a jet engine propelling her forward. The wind whistled in her ears.

A long breathtaking moment later the wave diminished, its power spent. Andie stayed with it, letting it carry her until her knees dragged on the sandy floor. Nearly overcome with laughter she stood and raised her hands Rocky style.

She turned around. Where was Julian? She must share the moment with him. There he was, far out still, floating on the board. He had missed the ride! She waved to him.

He raised an arm, his hand fisted, a thumb skyward. Then he headed back toward the horizon. He wasn’t coming in to coax her out again as he’d done numerous times.

Andie felt as if she had graduated. Who would believe it?

With a giggle, she picked up the board and walked onto the beach.

“Molly. Sugar.” Char heard a tinge of exasperation in her voice and paused to glide her tongue along the backs of her teeth.“You are truly welcome to pick up this cell phone and use it whenever and for however long you would like. It makes no never mind to me or Cam or the phone company. I never use up my allotted minutes.”
Well, not every month, anyway
.

Molly sat at the kitchen table, her hands tightly clasped beside the phone, a forlorn expression on her face. “You’re sure?”

Standing at the counter, Char traced the fronts of her teeth and swiveled around to pick up the coffee carafe. How could the woman be so out of touch with the twenty-first century?

“Molly, I am sure.” She poured the last of the coffee into her mug.

“I would have used Jo’s earlier, but she didn’t take it to the restaurant. It must be hormones.”

“What must be hormones?” Char turned to face her.

“This…” Molly waved her hands above her head and twirled her fingers. “This…I don’t know! This out-of-body experience.”

“You’re having an out-of-body experience?”

“It feels that way. Like my brain detached itself. I don’t feel in control. Not that I am truly ever in control, but this is like I don’t know what’s going to come out of my mouth until it’s already been said.”