The Guest Book (18 page)

And now Brenda had found a way to move again, to unfreeze from that moment when the doctor had told her her husband had died. And it seemed as if she was happier than she’d been in a long time. Was Macy hanging onto the guest book because this person was her true love, or because by holding onto it, she didn’t have to risk finding true love? She could stay safe as long as she didn’t have answers. There was, after all, safety in staying still. If one didn’t move, there was no risk of losing control, going the wrong way, or falling. But staying still meant no one got anywhere. And Macy was ready to move, to be on her way.

M
acy woke with a sinking feeling on their last full day at the beach. Thursday had been rainy and — other than taking Emma to camp — Macy had stayed inside, brooding over the fact that in two weeks, she hadn’t gotten the answers she’d hoped for. But all her brooding had led her to a decision. She had to find out who he was, even if it meant coming right out with it and asking. She grimaced at the thought.

Maybe she should’ve been more specific with her prayer: “Please send one guy … and make it clear so I’ll know.” She rolled her eyes. At least Hank hadn’t called. Avis must’ve worked her magic.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Macy asked. “It’s our last full day.” She slumped into a chair at the table where Brenda, Max, and Emma were eating with faces as long as hers.

“Well, Buzz and I are taking Emma to her last day of art camp. Unless, of course, you’d like to take her,” her mother said.

“Umm … how about I pick her up?” she offered.

“That sounds good. Buzz wanted to take me someplace special this morning. We can drop her on our way.”

Macy saw Max’s eyes flick toward her before darting away. She knew when their mother was out of earshot he’d have questions for her. She tried not to think about what Wyatt had said about Buzz fixing his house up for Brenda. “How ‘bout you, Max?” she asked.

“I told Nate we’d have lunch. He’s got some books he wants me to read. And he’s got a friend who pastors a new church back home he wants to connect me with. You wanna come?”

Macy shook her head. “I might head over to see him later this morning. I’ve got a question of my own for him. One I’d like to ask without you around. No offense.”

Max grinned and pushed away from the table. “None taken.” He stood up and grabbed his empty bowl. “Think I’ll go for a long walk. Find some shells.” He winked at Macy, and she rolled her eyes in response. She thought of Wyatt’s painting of the butterfly shells he’d shown her. The way she’d felt when he kissed her. She knew he needed to be her first stop this morning. Buzz would be gone, and with any luck, Wyatt would be working on Buzz’s house. Alone.

Satisfied that Emma was taken care of, she headed to the shower and, beyond that, a morning of finally getting the answer to the question she’d been afraid to ask.

Macy walked up the stairs of Buzz’s house with her heart pounding in time with her footsteps. She took a deep breath before knocking, telling herself this was no big deal. But she knew she was kidding herself. She waited for a moment, but no one came to the door. From inside she could hear music playing so she pounded harder. Finally the door was yanked open, revealing one of the crew she remembered from the first day. “Yeah?”

She made herself smile at him. “I’m looking for Wyatt,” she said politely.

“You the girl from next door?” A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and he wiped it impatiently away.

She nodded. “Is he here?”

“Nah. He’s on another site. Sent me here to finish up some stuff.” He chuckled. “He’s the big boss man. He can do things like that.”

“Oh, okay. Well, then, I’m sorry I bothered you.” She turned to leave.

“I know I shouldn’t say nothing, but Wyatt, he’s a nice guy. I always kid him. Say he’s got the heart of a poet beating inside him. He always gets mad at me when I say it. On account of he don’t want no one to know that. But I think you know that. I think he done let you see it. Am I right?”

She knew she was blushing. She nodded again, thinking of the moment he showed her the butterfly shell painting and
how there had been so much buzzing in the air between them: attraction, chemistry, friendship, connection.

“Well, it ain’t none of my business, but I hope you know he don’t go around showing that part of himself to just anyone.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t take it lightly, is all.”

She smiled at him without showing any teeth. “I won’t,” she promised him.

“Well, better get back to work. Don’t want to make the boss man mad.” He thought for a second. “You wanna try and catch him, I ‘spect he’ll be back here sometime this afternoon.”

“Thanks. I’ll do that.” She backed down the stairs as he closed the door. She crossed the yard to Time in a Bottle, thinking of where she would go next and what she knew she needed to say.

Nate was in his office. His secretary gave her a knowing little smile as Macy passed her, and though she knew it wasn’t true, Macy couldn’t shake the feeling that the woman saw single women parade in and out of Nate’s office week in and week out, a clergy Casanova. She knocked and opened his office door to find him scribbling on a legal pad. He looked up and smiled.

“I was just thinking about bringing you a Krispy Kreme donut.” He laughed at his own joke, and she grimaced at the reminder of her “biggest secret.” He pointed to the pad. “Sermon
notes. I hate that you’re not going to be here this Sunday.” He gestured toward an overstuffed chair across from his desk, and she sat down primly on it, her hands folded in her lap. She wondered how many people had sat in that same chair and poured out their hearts to him. How many secrets had been spilled in this room?

“Uh-oh,” he said. “I know that look.”

“What?”

He pointed in her direction. “That look you’ve got. Like you’re just here to say good-bye and bolt. Like we’re total strangers.”

She shifted in her seat and tried to look more relaxed. “Well, I am leaving tomorrow.”

He pretended to pout. “And here I thought my fried green tomato sandwich would convince you to stay.”

“It
was
delicious.”

“But?”

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Okay, here’s the deal. You said you’d stayed at Sunset Beach as a kid. That you’d been to Time in a Bottle.”

He nodded. “Yeah?”

She paused, her gaze snagging on a cross hanging behind him. “So I have a weird question for you.”

He smiled. “I’m a pastor. I get weird questions all the time. Shoot.”

“Did you ever draw pictures in the guest book there?”

His wrinkled brow of response was all the answer she needed. He had no idea what she was talking about. “See? I
told you it was a crazy question.” She leaned back in the chair, oddly relieved just to get it out there. She only had to do it two more times, and then she could go home to figure out her life equipped with reality rather than a childish fantasy. She had asked God to let her know once and for all. Now she would know. “Never mind. It’s silly.” She waved the question away.

But Nate wasn’t deterred. “Not silly at all. From the look on your face, I’d say this guest book meant a lot to you,” he said, so kind to not belittle her or make her feel more foolish. She liked this guy a lot and—had he answered yes to her question—she could see digging deeper into their friendship, seeing what was there. And yet, he hadn’t answered yes.

“Yeah, it does,” she answered. She dropped her eyes and nodded at the floor, wanting to sink into it.

“Tell me about it.”

She waved her hand. “It’s hard to explain. And a long story. You don’t want to hear it.”

He laced his fingers together and studied her for a moment. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear.”

“You must be a good listener. You sure have helped Max a lot.”

He shrugged. “Part of the job. To be a good listener.” He smiled at her with his kind brown eyes twinkling. “I find that most people just want to be heard—some for the first time in their lives.”

“I guess that’s what the guest book’s been to me all my life: someone listened to me. Only it wasn’t with words, but with the pictures I drew or painted. It started when I was just
a little girl. About Emma’s age. I drew a picture every year and someone, a boy, always drew a picture back. It became this amazing … conversation we had.”

“And you’re convinced that he’s out there somewhere.”

She nodded.

“And you can’t move forward if you don’t find out who he is.”

She nodded again, color rising in her cheeks. She might as well be naked in front of him. And yet, wasn’t that why she’d woken up with a pit of dread in her stomach this morning? Wasn’t this what today was about? “I know it sounds stupid. Like a little girl believing in fairy tales.”

He rested his chin on his laced fingers and studied her. “Some people say the Bible is nothing more than fairy tales that people believe in.” His mouth curled into a half smile. “You might recall our conversation about that.”

She nodded, thinking of how long ago that night seemed.

“And yet,” Nate continued, “I choose to believe. Sometimes believing—just choosing to take that leap of faith—is the best thing we can do.”

“That’s what you’ve helped Max do.”

He nodded. “And I wanted to help you too.” He grinned. “But I have to admit that you’re much prettier than your brother and that might’ve swayed my motivations.”

She smiled back. “So you knew it wasn’t going to work out?”

“I think I knew a couple of days ago that the reason God brought you into my life wasn’t because you’re ‘the one’ for me.
Rather, your willingness to go to Buzz, who in turned called me, allowed me to meet Max. He and I have talked through some pretty important stuff these past few days. It’s been a privilege to point him in a direction that, I think, is going to help him resolve some stuff he’s been dragging around for quite some time.”

“I’m happy for my brother.”

“But what about you?”

“Remember last week I told you I’d prayed for the first time in a long time?”

“Yeah. I was glad to hear it.”

“Well, these two weeks have been the answer to that prayer.” She stopped herself. She sounded so naive and gullible, and yet she’d come this far and he was still listening, so why not finish the story? “So the night we got here, I went out to the beach, and I prayed that somehow God would bring this person to me. I prayed that God would finally answer the big question about who this person is so I could just … know once and for all.” She looked over Nate’s shoulder, her gaze catching on the iron scrollwork cross. “Within a matter of days, three men came into my life, and I just knew somehow one of you was going to turn out to be him.” She sighed. “But I’ve been too afraid to ask.”

“Why do you think that whoever he is never told you who he is?”

She shook her head. “That’s the million-dollar question. He once left me a note, asking me to meet him at the gazebo by the pier. But I didn’t do it. I was afraid. And maybe now he
doesn’t want me to ever find out. Or maybe he’s married now or … there’s a hundred different scenarios I’ve been over in my mind. So I’m just going to do what I can to get the answer. And then I am going to go home and move forward with my life.”

“That sounds very wise and logical.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me wise or logical before.”

He sat up a little taller. When she’d imagined him as the artist, she had imagined him offering her safety and comfort. “Just be prepared that it might not be any of these men you met here. That the answer you asked from God might just lead you to God and not to this artist. He has a way of drawing us to Him, to show us He’s been waiting for us to come home, like the prodigal son’s father, scanning the horizon for our return all this time.”

Her heart clenched as she thought of God waiting for her return. It made her sad to think she’d kept Him waiting for so long. For just a moment she wished Nate had been the one. She would’ve liked a life spent with this man, who made her feel both comforted and comfortable. “Can I ask you why you’re not married, Nate?”

He smiled at her. “I just haven’t found her yet. But I trust that she’s out there. And I keep my life open for the moment God chooses to send her through my door.”

She rose from her chair and hugged him good-bye. “Thank you,” she whispered into his polo shirt, grateful he was tall enough she didn’t have to look him in the eye. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Macy. I’m rooting for your happiness. Remember what I said to you about that fairy tale.” He squeezed her hand, and she showed herself out, walking quickly away from Nate. She sat in her car and thought about living the way Nate did, his life an open door just waiting for God to send the right person through it, believing prayers really do get answered.

M
acy ran the gauntlet of kids and parents released from day camp like an old pro, this time barely feeling the jostling and jabs as she made her way down the hall. She kept her eyes trained on the door at the end of the hall, hoping the person she wanted to talk to was inside. She had no idea what she would say, but she had to say it. Today wasn’t about dignity, it was about discovery. She entered the room and scanned the knots of children and parents for the face she was looking for. “Mommy!” she heard. She turned her eyes in the direction of the voice and saw a little face encased in a sunshine mask, triangles like the sun’s rays affixed around a circle painted yellow like the sun. Cute.

The child she could only guess was Emma scampered up to
her. “Remember when you used to sing ‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine’ to me?” she asked. Her voice was muffled behind the mask. There was no hole in it for a mouth.

“I do remember that,” Macy replied, giving her daughter a squeeze.

“Well, now I really am your sunshine!” Emma dissolved into giggles while Macy scanned the room one more time.

“Was Dockery here today?” Macy asked her.

“Uh-huh. His friend Rebecca was here too. I asked him if we could get a corn dog after camp, but he said noo-oo, because he had to do something with Rebecca.”

If Macy didn’t know better, she would say her daughter was jealous. She thought of the night they’d seen Dockery golfing with Rebecca and her own annoying jealous feelings. Great. With Rebecca around, she’d get no chance to ask Dockery her question.

“There he is! Dockery!” she heard Emma exclaim, and turned to see Dockery making his way toward them. Thankfully, Rebecca was nowhere in sight. When he caught her eye, she waved shyly, slowly losing her nerve. If she hadn’t met him when she did, she wouldn’t even be asking him. They’d spent very little time together, and she’d had no real indication he could be the one she was looking for. And yet, she was compelled to ask. At this point, what could it really hurt?

“Hey,” he said. “Glad I got to see you one last time. Emma said you guys are headed home tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Yeah. My mom’s making us attend some big
unveiling thing here at OIB that Buzz is involved in first, and then we’re hitting the road.” She gave a brave smile. “Back to reality.” She wished she could pinpoint exactly what it was about him that so disarmed her: his looks, his intensity, his mystery? All of the above?

Dockery put his arm around Emma. “Well, I sure have enjoyed getting to know your daughter these past two weeks at camp. I hope you’ll bring her back again.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe we will.” Emma ran off to hug another little girl, allowing them to have a moment alone.

“Well, I guess I better go help clean up around here. They’ve got Rebecca in the office helping shut things down, and I said I’d help her. Maybe I’ll see you at the unveiling tomorrow. I have to be there too.”

“Do you know what it’s about? I guess Buzz donated money for it or something.”

He shrugged. “It’s very hush-hush. Some sculpture or something. You’re an artist. You’ll probably love it,” he joked.

She shrugged and nodded. Art usually only served to remind her of what she wasn’t doing with her life, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.

“Well, bye,” he said. He started to make his exit. Her chance was slipping away.
Just jump
, she told herself.

“Dockery?” she asked. He stopped.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got a crazy question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you … Have you … Did you …” She took a deep
breath, felt her toes leave the ledge. “Did you by chance ever trade drawings with a girl in a guest book in a house at Sunset Beach?” She closed her eyes as she said it, aware of how stupid she sounded. She laughed. “Never mind. Sorry. Stupid question. Maybe I’ll see you next year.”

Dockery stared at her for a moment, his thoughts unreadable. “Sorry. Can’t help you with that one.”

She shrugged and looked away. Rebecca entered the room, looking for him, no doubt. “Okay, well, thanks.” Rebecca was crossing the room toward them, apparently done with her work in the office, her sweet smile absent. “You go. Really.”

He looked in Rebecca’s direction and back at her. “Yeah, I better go. Maybe I’ll see you and Emma tomorrow?”

“It’ll probably be crowded, but yeah, maybe.” Translation: she hoped more than anything that she did not see Dockery so she didn’t have to prolong this embarrassment any longer. She held up her hand to wave good-bye as he crossed the room toward Rebecca, who looped her arm around him territorially as they headed out the door. A better person would wish them much happiness together. But Macy wasn’t there yet.

Emma came up behind her. “Hey, where’s Dockery going?”

“He’s going where he needs to go.” She pulled on her daughter’s ponytail playfully. “And we’re going where we need to go.”

She laced her fingers with Emma’s and pulled her from the room. Two down, one to go. She found herself hoping she’d saved the best for last.

When Macy and Emma returned home, Brenda, Buzz, and Wyatt were all eating lunch together. Max, she remembered, was spending time with Nate. Though she was happy to see Wyatt, it was hardly the perfect opportunity to ask him the question she had to ask. She pasted on a smile and set about making a sandwich for Emma, who proclaimed she was starving. She caught Wyatt looking at her a few times as they ate, but she averted her eyes, fearing he’d somehow read her thoughts.

The more she processed it, the more it made sense that Wyatt was the one. He’d always come to visit his dad after she was there. He’d shown her the butterfly shell painting, which could mean he knew how special they were to her. He’d admitted to wanting to get to know her better but never finding the right time or the courage. And the kisses they’d shared had been an indicator of deeper feelings on both their parts. She shivered a little at the thought that she was most likely eating lunch across from the one person she’d been searching for all her life. She looked up and caught him studying her. She quickly looked away.

Brenda rose from the table. “I think Buzz and I are going to head down to the beach. I don’t suppose anyone at this table would like to go?”

Emma leaped to her feet, her hand in the air. “I would! I would!”

Everyone smiled as Emma’s brand of joy filled the room, and Macy silently thanked God for her. “Macy? You want to come?” her mother asked.

“Mmmm. Maybe later?”

Brenda glanced from Wyatt to Macy and back again with a knowing look on her face. “Okay, well, we’ll be out there when you get ready to join us. You two wouldn’t mind cleaning up this lunch mess so we can get on out of here, would you?”

“No, that’s no problem,” Macy agreed readily. She could talk to Wyatt while they cleaned, the work a nice distraction. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye when she asked her question.

Brenda and Buzz were already in their bathing suits, so she sent Emma to change into hers. Emma returned in a matter of minutes, bathing suit on and a broad smile across her face. “All ready!” she announced.

With the three of them gone, she and Wyatt were, miraculously, alone. As soon as the door shut behind them, he crossed the room and took her in his arms. “I thought they’d never leave,” he said. He kissed her, and she felt herself melt into his body, her resolve to talk to him melting with her. It would be so much easier to just go with it, to discover what she needed to know naturally. Maybe there was a reason for it being the way it was. Maybe pushing it would be the wrong thing to do.

She pulled away from him. “We need to clean up.”

He grinned at her. “Later.”

“Let’s just get it over with,” she said, turning away from him and heading to the kitchen.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

“No. But I’m alone with you and all these feelings, and …” she smiled at him, “the dishes are safer.”

“Fine.” He pointed in the direction of the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

She began clearing the table and taking the cups and plates to the sink, thankful Brenda hadn’t used paper plates. The diversion of the dishes was a good thing at that moment. She let the water run over the same plate for far too long as she practiced what she’d say.
Just jump
, she told herself.
The words will be there when you open your mouth
,
just like the other two times.

She wondered why Wyatt wasn’t back and went in search of him. “Wyatt?” she asked cautiously by the closed bathroom door. No answer. She was about to head back to the kitchen when she heard movement in her bedroom. She walked toward it, wondering why he’d be in there. She found him sitting on her bed with the guest book in his lap, paging through it. He looked up at her, guilt crossing his face. He rested his hand on the picture he was looking at, the last picture he’d drawn for her. His hand nearly covered it up.

“I was intending to ask you about that today, actually,” she said, pointing at the book. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel the blood pounding in her ears. She made herself smile at him. “I’m glad you found it. So we can talk about it.”

He closed the guest book and looked up at her. “The first time I saw this book was when my dad brought me over here to check on something. I guess you guys had left something here, so he came by to get it. He’d told me all about you by then. Said he wanted us to meet someday. While we were here, he showed me this, showed me what you had drawn. Those butterfly
shells. He said you were something special.” He smiled. “And as I looked at the pictures you’d drawn, I was sure he was right.”

“And yet we kept missing each other.”

He shrugged. “My mom didn’t let me spend as much time here as I wanted. She wanted to erase my dad from my life. Didn’t work, obviously.”

“Why didn’t you ever sign your name?” she asked, breathing the question she’d waited all her life to ask.

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and looking at her with confusion.

“To the pictures you drew in response.”

He shook his head. “Oh, I didn’t draw those pictures. I have no idea who did that.” He laughed a little. “I hardly paid attention to those. To me, this book was always about you. It was a glimpse into this girl I wanted to get to know so badly. I looked forward to the new drawing every single year.”

Macy closed her eyes for a moment. Wyatt wasn’t the artist? “So you’re telling me you didn’t draw any pictures in response to mine?”

He shook his head, tightening his grip on the book. “No. The only painting I do is walls. Some ceilings. That’s pretty much it.” He stood and placed the book back on the nightstand. He crossed the room to take her into his arms. She stood rooted to her spot in the doorway, unable to believe it. She could feel his heart beating through his shirt. “Why do I feel like that was the wrong answer?” he murmured into her hair.

She pulled back from him and studied his face. “It’s fine,”
she said. “It wasn’t the wrong answer. It was the truth. And I wanted the truth.”

Standing there with Wyatt’s arms around her, Macy knew one thing: whoever was the artist didn’t matter anymore. Truth was, that person had most likely gone on with his life and forgotten all about their silly childish tradition. Her request to God that first night had ultimately led her to three men: one who helped her find her way back to God; one who reminded her that a little mystery was exciting and possibly even good; and one who showed her that she was special to him. She let Wyatt pull her close and closed her eyes as he stroked her hair. She was where she was supposed to be. She would learn to let that be enough.