Page 28 of Hush (The Seaside Saga #25)

So Shane waits right there. The late-October sun feels good today. There’s a hint of summer left in it. While sitting on the boardwalk, he takes off his cap and tips his face to the sky.

For a few minutes, anyway. Until he hears footsteps approaching. He turns to see Maris. Her hair is in a French braid. She’s got on a corduroy peacoat over a sweater, faded straight-leg jeans and brown penny loafers. She’s also holding a take-out tray, which she sets on the boardwalk bench.

“Hey, Shane. I promised you coffee and one last doughnut,” she says, sitting and handing him a hot coffee. “Fresh from Scoop Shop.”

“Perfect, Mare. Works for me.” Shane opens the lid and takes a long sip.

And it does work—this simply sitting with Maris.

With his old girlfriend. His old fiancée—from another life, it seems. Her life is with Jason now, of all people.

All these years later, that son of a bitch took his girl.

And the funny thing is? Shane can’t wish it, want it, imagine it any other way now.

But what he and Maris will always be is old beach friends.

Old beach friends who skip the beach walk to just sit in the sun, break doughnuts in half, dip hunks in their coffees… and talk.

Shane tells her how he stopped by the Gallaghers’ cottage right before coming to the boardwalk. “Played a quick darts game with Matt in that highfalutin sports cave Jason designed.”

“Quite a room, isn’t it?”

“Shit, yeah. And Eva? She loaded me up with a tote of her chicken cutlets to get me through a few days’ dinners.”

“That’s my sister for you. She’s like that, keeping us well-fed.”

“It’s still hard for me to believe you and Eva are sisters after so many years unaware. But then I look at the two of you? And the similarities, the mannerisms, are undeniable. How’d we all miss it?”

Maris nods. “I could never live farther from Eva than I do here. Just a few blocks. We still make up for our lost time.”

“I get it. So do me and Kyle.”

Maris tells him a little about her Driftline manuscript now. And how she’s working toward the ending. That Mitch Fenwick will start editing the book soon—for which she’s so grateful.

“Neil met Mitch, you know,” she lets on.

“Seriously. Small world, no?”

“When Neil was writing the novel back then, he happened by Mitch’s cottage one day. Mitch was up on a ladder, and Neil struck up a conversation with him. Got himself a tour of the cottage, too. To inform his story.”

“That’s right.” Shane looks over to the Fenwick place farther down on the sand. Scaffolding wraps around part of it; piles of fresh lumber are stacked nearby, too. The Castaway Cottage reno is in full swing. “Neil set the story right in that very cottage, didn’t he?”

“He did. In the novel, a hurricane had just struck. And now I’m finishing what he started.”

Shane reaches over and briefly squeezes Maris’ hand. “Tall order. But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

They quiet then. The gentle October breeze lifts off the water. A couple of seagulls swoop low and cry out .

Maris asks him if he’s seen Celia yet. Tells him she and Jason are pulling for them. And that she was sad to hear of all that never came to pass between Celia and her mother.

“Celia’s had a hard lot these past weeks. And I feel like dirt because now I’m leaving her.”

“It’s not like that, Shane.”

“Isn’t it? Her mother left her. Sal left her. And now I am.”

“But you have to make a living.”

“That I do.”

“And like I’m doing for Neil, you also have to finish what your good friend started.”

“Shiloh?”

“That’s right. You have to see his lobstering season through. You have an obligation. An honorable one.”

Shane nods. “One thing at a time,” is all he says then.

And really? It’s the type of goodbye for which Shane had hoped. An easy, bittersweet one between two old friends.

“That husband of yours is treating me to dinner tonight,” Shane says as Maris packs up to get back to her writing shack.

She pauses then. Just sets down her Scoop Shop bag filled with their napkins and empty coffee cups. Does something else, too. She reaches over and hugs him.

“That stairway work you did means the world to Jason, Shane,” she says near his ear. “Please know that.”

“I do,” he answers.

Maris pulls back and looks at him carefully. Gives a sad smile, too. “It was something Jason could physically never take on.”

** *

When Maris leaves the beach, Shane stays behind.

He’s not ready to leave. It feels like there’s a goodbye here that he still has to say.

So he steps off the boardwalk, pulls his newsboy cap low and crosses the beach to the high tide line.

His combat-booted feet walk the packed sand there.

The light wind ripples his twill bomber jacket.

Small waves splash ashore, then hiss in retreat.

As he walks the beach, he skips a flat stone across the water. Pockets a few good stones, too.

The whole time, he’s also trying to remember Neil Barlow—whose death he only learned about two months ago.

If he could just sense his old friend walking the beach in his jeans and sweatshirt, journal in hand, moppy hair blowing in the wind.

If he could picture Neil’s ready smile. His laid-back ways.

While Shane walks, while the waves splash close, he thinks of the twists and turns Neil’s life took—right here.

Finally, Shane just sits on the sandy beach. He wraps his hands around his bent knees and looks out at Long Island Sound reaching seemingly to the far end of the earth. The infinite water is blue beneath the midafternoon sun. The waves break. A salty wind brushes past.

The beach, right now, is empty.

Shane’s the only one on it.

“Neil,” he whispers, tipping his cap to the sea.

The loss still feels fresh.