Page 58 of Resilience on Canvas

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Robert

Breathing in the scent of the salty sea, Robert watched the waves crest and crash on the shoreline.

Behind him, May, Thomas, and Peter were burying Henry in the sand while Clara sat on a beach chair nearby, reading a book.

After a while, once Robert was tired of staring at the ocean, he turned to rejoin his family.

When Clara looked up from her novel, Robert caught her eye.

Smiling, he threw her a wink, and she smiled back.

Wind whipped through her hair, and she tried to tuck some behind her ear out of habit, even though the breeze sent it fluttering only seconds later.

Eventually, Clara’s eyes went back to the page she’d been reading.

Robert tromped over to where the children were burying Henry. They’d been throwing sand on him for over ten minutes by now. Most of his swim shirt had been covered, as had his trunks.

Robert knelt beside him. “Almost finished, huh?” he said.

“Yep,” Thomas said cheerily as he scooped up some sand with his bare hands.

Robert frowned. It was probably taking the children so long because no one had bought them buckets or shovels yet.

Because he hadn’t bought them buckets or shovels yet.

When Robert had seen some other children burying their folks earlier that morning, they’d been scooping up sand with little tin shovels.

One of the children had collected a bunch in a metal bucket, too.

But beach toys would have to wait a few weeks.

Robert had only barely managed to save up enough for him and Henry’s swimsuits.

Thomas’s, Peter’s, Clara’s, and May’s swimsuits had been purchased by Henry’s parents.

Robert stayed put a little longer, watching the children throw bits of sand on top of Henry, and the familiar sting of failure nipped him in the stomach. He winced.

Henry’s fingers found his for the briefest moment, and his soft touch soothed some of the pain.

“Are y’all havin’ fun trappin’ me?” Henry said to the kids before letting go.

“Yeah!” Peter and Thomas both exclaimed.

“Are you really trapped?” May wondered as she threw some sand on Henry’s shoulder.

“Gettin’ there,” Henry confirmed. “Would you say that this is a nice outing so far?”

All three kids replied in unison. “Yep!”

Henry caught Robert’s eye as though he needed Robert to know he was making a point.

“Ain’t Robert the best brother in the whole entire world for takin’ y’all out somewhere fun every week?”

Robert had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yeah!” May said, her smile so big it was making her eyes smaller.

Thomas said, “But yer better ’cause yer lettin’ us bury you.”

“I’m more fun than Henry,” Robert scoffed.

“No,” Peter said in a very matter-of-fact manner. “Uncle Henry’s more fun.”

Robert’s heart pitter-pattered from excitement at hearing Peter call Henry “Uncle Henry,” though he couldn’t fight the way his previously fake irritation was slowly transforming into very real upset. Dammit, he was plenty fun. He could prove it.

“I’m at least as fun as Uncle Henry is,” Robert said. He shoved Thomas out of the way and lay beside Henry in the sand. “Now you can bury me too.”

“Ugh, both of you ? We haven’t even finished buryin’ Uncle Henry yet!” Thomas complained, throwing up his hands. “It’ll take forever!”

Robert shot him a look. “I’m givin’ the lot of you ten minutes to put enough sand on top of both of us so that neither of us can’t escape. If you can’t manage it, I’m tossin’ you in the water.”

Peter’s eyes went wide with horror. “But we can’t swim!”

“Do you think I care?” Robert said, trying his best to keep himself from smiling. “Fewer mouths to feed on Sundays, that would be a blessing. Besides”—Robert pointed back and forth between Thomas and Peter—“there’s two of you. I have no need for a spare.”

Nearby, Clara started chuckling. Robert looked over to see her trying to hide her mouth behind one of her hands.

Robert and Henry started laughing, too, though the children continued to look horrified for a couple of seconds before eventually sinking their hands back into the sand.

Soon, Robert’s bare chest was being pelted with it. He turned his face toward Henry.

Grinning, he said, “Uncle Henry. How about that?”

Henry’s cheeks reddened. “Yeah, I wasn’t even sure I heard Peter right before you repeated it,” Henry replied. He lifted his chin toward the kids, who were still tossing sand on both of them. “I never thought I’d have this. Nieces and nephews.”

“Well, now yer stuck with us. Whether you like it or not.”

Henry’s face softened, his small smile blossoming. “I know.”

An intense rush of fondness hit him. Breathing in the moment’s perfection, Robert closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he noticed Henry’s empty, waiting hand. Maybe the moment wasn’t quite perfect. Yet.

“Hey, May,” Robert said, calling to his sister before she plopped some sand on top of his right shin.

“Come up here.” Staying in a squatting position, May waddled over.

Quickly, Robert lifted his head off of the sand and checked to confirm that no one else on the beach was watching them.

Satisfied that no one was paying them any mind, he took hold of Henry’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“Bury our hands first, will ya?” May simply tilted her head, and Robert let out a huff.

“If our hands ain’t covered in sand in thirty seconds. ..”

He trailed off, torn between threatening to feed her to the sharks or to the seagulls.

Before Robert could make up his mind, May scrambled to start ladling sand atop him and Henry’s linked hands.

Henry shook his head a little like he was scolding Robert for his threats, though he continued to smile through it.

Robert rubbed Henry’s hand with his work-worn thumb.

“I love you,” he mouthed to Henry.

Henry mouthed the words right back to him.

Robert’s cheeks warmed. Now the moment was perfect.

Over the next ten or fifteen minutes, the three children worked to cover both Henry and Robert with sand.

Just before they finished, Robert burst out of his sand-coffin.

May shrieked and ran to Clara, who pretended to hide May with a towel.

Peter and Thomas split up, and Robert went back and forth, chasing them on the beach while bellowing empty threats.

Eventually, once Robert began feeling winded, he fell to his knees and shouted a reassurance to the twins that he was too worn out to toss either of them into the sea.

Soon, Henry came by and tossed some sand in Robert’s hair. Robert warned Henry that he’d make him pay for it later, and then Henry started fanning himself. Because, as Robert had briefly suspected, that was exactly what Henry had been hoping for.

Afterward, Henry went to the edge of the water with May and the twins, and Robert spread a towel out next to Clara so he could sit with her. She climbed off of her chair and settled next to him on the ratty cotton fabric. They watched the waves for a while.

Clara turned to him and said, “How have you been feelin’ lately?”

“Better,” Robert replied. “I’m tryin’ not to focus on the money. Or the fact that y’all are still livin’ with the Sherwoods.” Robert straightened his legs a bit so he could push his feet beneath the sand. “I know that these Sundays are important. I want to make them memorable.”

“I think that’s wise,” she said. “Today was real special so far. Thank you.”

“Yeah?” Robert said. “I tried to make it fun. Chasin’ the twins. Scarin’ little May.”

“It looked fun. I know they were screamin’, but they were smilin’ the whole time, too.”

Robert smiled to himself. He may not have bought the kids a fancy tin bucket or matching shovels, but hopefully their beach time had been pleasurable enough without those things.

Fun memories had to be worth something. Maybe not as much as a whole big house that could fit everybody.

Maybe not as much as school clothes and a week of food. But something.

Clara stuck her legs out so she could bury her feet in the sand, too.

“I have some news,” she said. “Or, maybe it’s news. Sort of.”

“What is it?”

“Charles may have found some work for me.” She started picking the skin surrounding one of her fingernails. “He says that the bank is looking for a few women to fill the, uhm, the lower clerical roles.”

Clara’s news struck Robert in the chest. He could have sworn that he felt his heart stop. Now Clara was finding work before him?

Robert was still trying to make sense of it when Clara continued on in a soft voice, one that was barely loud enough to hear over the churning of the water.

“Do you think I should try? I think I would like to.”

Robert stilled. Clara’s reserved tone and shy confession coaxed forth a swell of empathy, rising up like the crest of a wave, and the subsequent realization that Clara was finally saying what she wanted caused that wave to break, sending fast ripples of pride and love flowing through Robert’s veins with such ferocity that they knocked out every trace of hesitation.

Of course Clara ought to try. Robert wanted that for her.

He wanted it for her not because he thought she needed to make money or because she ought to bow to the suggestion of Charles Sherwood, but because he wanted her to know that she could want things.

And that she had it in her to seize the things she wanted in life, whatever those things were.

“Clara, I—”

But Clara, ever-insecure, cut him off before he could voice his opinion.

“Oh, it’s probably silly,” she blurted out, tearing off a tiny piece of skin on her finger. “I’m sorry.”