Their nightmares continued for almost a year. Once in a while, when he colored with Kristen or fished with Josh,they’d grow quiet and he knew they were missing their mom. Kristen sometimes said as much in a babyish,trembling voice, while tears ran down her cheeks. When that happened, he was sure he could hear his heartbreaking, because he knew there was nothing he could do or say to make things any better. The counselor hadassured him that kids were resilient and that as long as they knew they were loved, the nightmares wouldeventually stop and the tears would become less frequent. Time proved the counselor right, but now Alex facedanother form of loss, one that left him equally heartbroken. The kids were getting better, he knew, because theirmemories of their mom were slowly but surely fading away. They’d been so young when they’d lost her—four andthree—and it meant that the day would come when their mother would become more an idea than a person tothem. It was inevitable, of course, but somehow it didn’t seem right to Alex that they would never remember thesound of Carly’s laughter, or the tender way she’d held them as infants, or know how deeply she’d once lovedthem.
He’d never been much of a photographer. Carly had always been the one who reached for the camera, andconsequently, there were dozens of photographs of him with the kids. There were only a few that included Carly,and though he made it a point to page through the album with Josh and Kristen while he told them about theirmother, he suspected that the stories were becoming just that: stories. The emotions attached to them were likesand castles in the tide, slowly washing out to sea. The same thing was happening with the portrait of Carly thathung in his bedroom. In their first year of marriage, he’d arranged to have her portrait taken, despite her protests.
He was glad for that. In the photo, she looked beautiful and independent, the strong-willed woman who’d capturedhis heart, and at night, after the kids were in bed, he would sometimes stare at his wife’s image, his emotions inturmoil. But Josh and Kristen barely noticed the photo at all.
He thought of her often, and he missed the companionship they’d once shared and the friendship that hadbeen the bedrock of their marriage at its best. And when he was honest with himself, he knew he wanted thosethings again. He was lonely, even though it bothered him to admit it. For months after they lost her, he simplycouldn’t imagine ever being in another relationship, let alone consider the possibility of loving someone again.
Even after a year, it was the kind of thought he would force from his mind. The pain was too fresh, the memory ofthe aftermath too raw. But a few months ago, he’d taken the kids to the aquarium and as they’d stood in front ofthe shark tank, he’d struck up a conversation with an attractive woman standing next to him. Like him, she’dbrought her kids, and like him, she wore no ring on her finger. Her children were the same ages as Josh andKristen, and while the four of them were off pointing at the fish, she’d laughed at something he’d said and he’d felta spark of attraction, reminding him of what he had once had. The conversation eventually came to an end andthey went their separate ways, but on the way out, he’d seen her once more. She’d waved at him and there’d beenan instant when he contemplated jogging over to her car and asking for her phone number. But he didn’t, and amoment later, she was pulling out of the parking lot. He never saw her again.
That night, he waited for the wave of self-reproach and regret to come, but strangely, it didn’t. Nor did it feel
wrong. Instead, it felt… okay. Not affirming, not exhilarating, but okay, and he somehow knew it meant he wasfinally beginning to heal. That didn’t mean, of course, that he was ready to rush headlong into the single life. If ithappened, it happened. And if it didn’t? He figured he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He was willing to waituntil he met the right person, someone who not only brought joy back into his life, but who loved his kids as muchas he did. He recognized, however, that in this town, the odds of finding that person were tiny. Southport was toosmall. Nearly everyone he knew was either married or retired or attending one of the local schools. There weren’ta lot of single women around, let alone women who wanted a package deal, kids included. And that, of course,was the deal breaker. He might be lonely, he might want companionship, but he wasn’t about to sacrifice his kidsto get it. They’d been through enough and would always be his first priority.
Still… there was one possibility, he supposed. Another woman interested him, though he knew almost nothingabout her, aside from the fact that she was single. She’d been coming to the store once or twice a week sinceearly March. The first time he’d seen her, she was pale and gaunt, almost desperately thin. Ordinarily, he wouldn’thave given her a second glance. People passing through town often stopped at the store for sodas or gasoline orjunk food; he seldom saw such people again. But she wanted none of those things; instead, she kept her headdown as she walked toward the grocery aisles, as if trying to remain unseen, a ghost in human form.
Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t working. She was too attractive to go unnoticed. She was in her late twenties, heguessed, with brown hair cut a little unevenly above her shoulder. She wore no makeup and her high cheekbonesand round, wide-set eyes gave her an elegant if slightly fragile appearance.
At the register, he realized that up close she was even prettier than she’d been from a distance. Her eyes were agreenish-hazel color and flecked with gold, and her brief, distracted smile vanished as quickly as it had come. Onthe counter, she placed nothing but staples: coffee, rice, oatmeal, pasta, peanut butter, and toiletries. He sensedthat conversation would make her uncomfortable so he began to ring her up in silence. As he did, he heard hervoice for the first time.
“Do you have any dry beans?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” he’d answered. “I don’t normally keep those in stock.”
As he bagged her items after his answer, he noticed her staring out the window, absently chewing her lower lip.
For some reason, he had the strange impression that she was about to cry.
He cleared his throat. “If it’s something you’re going to need regularly, I’d be happy to stock them. I just need toknow what kind you want.”
“I don’t want to bother you.” When she answered, her voice barely registered above a whisper.
She paid him in small bills, and after taking the bag, she left the store. Surprising him, she kept walking out ofthe lot, and it was only then he realized she hadn’t driven, which only added to his curiosity.
The following week, there were dry beans in the store. He’d stocked three types: pinto, kidney, and lima,though only a single bag of each, and the next time she came in, he made a point of mentioning that they could befound on the bottom shelf in the corner, near the rice. Bringing all three bags to the register, she’d asked him if hehappened to have an onion. He pointed to a small bag he kept in a bushel basket near the door, but she’d shakenher head. “I only need one,” she murmured, her smile hesitant and apologetic. Her hands shook as she countedout her bills, and again, she left on foot.
Since then, the beans were always in stock, there was a single onion available, and in the weeks that followedher first two visits to the store, she’d become something of a regular. Though still quiet, she seemed less fragile,less nervous, as time had gone on. The dark circles under her eyes were gradually fading, and she’d picked upsome color during the recent spate of good weather. She’d put on some weight—not much, but enough to softenher delicate features. Her voice was stronger, too, and though it didn’t signal any interest in him, she could holdhis gaze a little longer before finally turning away. They hadn’t proceeded much beyond the Did you find
everything you needed? followed by the Yes, I did. Thank you type of conversation, but instead of fleeing thestore like a hunted deer, she sometimes wandered the aisles a bit, and had even begun to talk to Kristen when thetwo of them were alone. It was the first time he’d seen the woman’s defenses drop. Her easy demeanor and openexpression spoke of an affection for children, and his first thought was that he’d glimpsed the woman she oncehad been and could be again, given the right circumstances. Kristen, too, seemed to notice something differentabout the woman, because after she left, Kristen had told him that she’d made a new friend and that her name wasMiss Katie.
That didn’t mean, however, that Katie was comfortable with him. Last week, after she’d chatted easily withKristen, he’d seen her reading the back covers of the novels he kept in stock. She didn’t buy any of the titles, andwhen he offhandedly asked as she was checking out if she had a favorite author, he’d seen a flash of the oldnervousness. He was struck by the notion that he shouldn’t have let slip that he’d been watching her. “Nevermind,” he added quickly. “It’s not important.” On her way out the door, however, she’d paused for a moment, herbag tucked in the crook of her arm. She half-turned in his direction and mumbled, I like Dickens. With that, sheopened the door and was gone, walking up the road.
He’d thought about her with greater frequency since then, but they were vague thoughts, edged with mysteryand colored by the knowledge that he wanted to get to know her better. Not that he knew how to go about it. Asidefrom the year he courted Carly, he’d never been good at dating. In college, between swimming and his classes, hehad little time to go out. In the military, he’d thrown himself into his career, working long hours and transferringfrom post to post with every promotion. While he’d gone out with a few women, they were fleeting romances thatfor the most part began and ended in the bedroom. Sometimes, when thinking back on his life, he barelyrecognized the man he used to be, and Carly, he knew, was responsible for those changes. Yes, it was sometimeshard, and yes, he was lonely. He missed his wife, and though he never told anyone, there were still moments whenhe could swear he felt her presence nearby, watching over him, trying to make sure he was going to be all right.
Because of the glorious weather, the store was busier than usual for a Sunday. By the time Alex unlocked thedoor at seven, there were already three boats tied at the dock waiting for the pump to be turned on. As was typical,while paying for the gas, the boat owners loaded up on snacks and drinks and bags of ice to stow in their boats.
Roger—who was working the grill, as always—hadn’t had a break since he’d put on his apron, and the tables werecrowded with people eating sausage biscuits and cheeseburgers and asking for tips about the stock market.
Usually, Alex worked the register until noon, when he would hand over the reins to Joyce, who, like Roger, wasthe kind of employee who made running the store much less challenging than it could be. Joyce, who’d worked inthe courthouse until her retirement, had “come with the business,” so to speak. His father-in-law had hired her tenyears ago and now, in her seventies, she hadn’t showed any signs of slowing down. Her husband had died yearsearlier, her kids had moved away, and she viewed the customers as her de facto family. Joyce was as intrinsic tothe store as the items on the shelves.
Even better, she understood that Alex needed to spend time with his children away from the store, and shedidn’t get bent out of shape by having to work on Sundays. As soon as she showed up, she’d slip behind theregister and tell Alex he could go, sounding more like the boss than an employee. Joyce was also his babysitter,the only one he trusted to stay with the kids if he had to go out of town. That wasn’t common—it had happenedonly twice in the past couple of years when he’d met up with an old army buddy in Raleigh—but he’d come to viewJoyce as one of the best things in his life. When he’d needed her most, she’d always been there for him.
Waiting for Joyce’s arrival, Alex walked through the store, checking the shelves. The computer system wasgreat at tracking inventory, but he knew that rows of numbers didn’t always tell the whole story. Sometimes, he felthe got a better sense by actually scanning the shelves to see what had sold the day before. A successful storerequired turning over the inventory as frequently as possible, and that meant that he sometimes had to offer itemsthat no other stores offered. He carried homemade jams and jellies; powdered rubs from “secret recipes” thatflavored beef and pork; and a selection of locally canned fruits and vegetables. Even people who regularlyshopped at the Food Lion or Piggly Wiggly often dropped by on their way home from the store to pick up the localspecialty items Alex made a point of stocking.
Even more important than an item’s sales volume, he liked to know whenit sold, a fact that didn’t necessarilyshow up in the numbers. He’d learned, for instance, that hot dog buns sold especially well on the weekends butonly rarely during the week; regular loaves of bread were just the opposite. Noting that, he’d been able to keepmore of both in stock when they were needed, and sales rose. It wasn’t much but it added up and enabled Alex tokeep his small business afloat when the chain stores were putting most local shops out of business.
As he perused the shelves, he wondered idly what he was going to do with the kids in the afternoon anddecided to take them for a bike ride. Carly had loved nothing more than strapping them into the bike stroller andhauling them all over town. But a bike ride wasn’t enough to fill the entire afternoon. Maybe they could ride theirbikes to the park… they might enjoy that.
With a quick peek toward the front door to make sure no one was coming in, he hurried through the rearstoreroom and poked his head out. Josh was fishing off the dock, which was far and away his favorite thing to do.
Alex didn’t like the fact that Josh was out there alone—he had no doubt that some people would regard him as abad father for allowing it—but Josh always stayed within visual range of the video monitor behind the register. Itwas a rule, and Josh had always adhered to it. Kristen, as usual, was sitting at her table in the corner behind theregister. She’d separated her American Girl doll clothing into different piles, and she seemed content to changeher doll from one outfit to the next. Each time she finished, she would look up at him with a bright, innocentexpression and ask her daddy how he thought her doll looked now, as if it were possible he would ever say hedidn’t like it.