The breeze blowing onshore gentled as the sun sank lower. The salt and seawater blended with the air and smelled of something elemental, perhaps of life itself. It touched a core within her. It steadied her.
“You two were, are, very close. I guess you’ve noticed he’s not thrilled about me.”
“Not you. It’s me he’s worried about. He’s having trouble letting go.”
“Letting you live your own life?”
“No, I mean accepting I’m leaving his—that I’m dying.”
Her stomach clenched. The steadiness she’d felt now seemed suspect. “You seem so well. Tired some, but who doesn’t get tired?”
“I have to deal in reality, Juli. You and I are enjoying each other’s company—I am and I hope it’s true for you—but we met nine days ago. You aren’t emotionally invested. We don’t have history. Remember you asked why I didn’t have a friend move in for companionship and I said it would be cruel? Well, that’s what I meant.” He paused a few seconds before adding, “I’m not afraid of death. I know where I’m going when I die.”
Reality. It wanted to hang over her head like a smog-filled cloud and she detested the awkwardness of the topic.
She ran a few steps ahead of him, then spun around to look him in the face. “In this world, none of us have more than the moment we’re in. You’re here. I’m here. Tomorrow can take care of itself.”
He held out his hand. “Juli, come stand here beside me, please? I want you to see this.”
She returned to stand beside him. He pointed ahead, to the west. “Look.”
He touched her hand lightly and she clasped his in return. The sunset had been growing as they strolled up the beach and was now aflame, burning high as if the houses lining the western end of the beach had ignited. Dark wisps of clouds, like smoke, streamed up in the midst of the conflagration, and a high whitish-yellow glow backlit all of it. It looked like onrushing Armageddon.
She moved closer to him. Her cheek touched his shoulder and, after a brief hesitation, he put his arm around her back. When the sunset lost its strong color, they strolled back along the beach in the growing dark.
As they crossed the rough walkway back over the dunes, Ben said, “Luke asked us to join him for dinner later this week or next.”
Sharing dinner with Luke wasn’t likely to aid good digestion.
Juli looked up at the clouds and back down at the few scattered shells on the crossover. She kicked at them with her toe, wishing she could kick this decision somewhere down the road.
“Juli?”
“Fine. If you’d like to go, we will.”
She reached out and took his hand back into her own. No one could ever say she didn’t keep her side of a bargain.
Chapter Seven
She was surprised to find Ben downstairs ahead of her in the morning. He was seated in the rattan swivel rocker. Thick cushions softened the seat and back. The chair swayed back and forth as he read. When she stepped down onto the landing, a stair tread creaked and he looked up.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Hi.” He was holding his Bible. The brown leather Book appeared here and there around the house. This was the first time she’d actually seen him holding it.
Out beyond the window, a cloud moved away from the sun and the early morning rays brightened and touched Ben, gilding the angles of his face and lighting his hair. It gave him an almost insubstantial air. Translucent. The unseen cloud slid back into place, taking the eerie image with it. Juli released the breath she’d been holding.
She said, “You look a little pale this morning.”
“I woke early and couldn’t get back to sleep.” He closed his Bible and laid it on his lap. “There’s a package for you on the counter.”
“Really?” She picked up the small box. “A cell phone? But I have one.”
“You mentioned your plan didn’t allow for many minutes.”
“Sort of. It’s prepaid.”
“I put you on my plan. Unlimited minutes. I added texting, too. Everyone seems to be doing that now.” He laughed. “Everyone, but me. Seriously, I hope you like the phone. If you don’t, we’ll go by the store and switch it. It’s already charged.”
She felt strange holding the box and didn’t open it. Texting? Everybody but her, too. She didn’t have anyone to text. “Thanks. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll look at it later.”
He didn’t answer. If he was disappointed that she didn’t do some kind of happy dance, well, he needed to get over it ‘cause she wasn’t a happy dance kind of gal.