Beach Rental(5)

His car was decent, but nothing fancy. She could manage it, even in the dark. “I do.”

“I’ll give you directions to the house after we cross the bridge.”

After that exchange, Ben went silent. The silence was heavy and awkward. Nagging tales about foolish women who get into cars with strangers nipped at her nerves. Yet, she couldn’t imagine any threat from this man. Had her good sense abandoned her?

To fill the emptiness, she began to talk—more than usual. As they drove through Beaufort and crossed the bridge into Morehead City, she told quirky, probably rude stories about the foster families she’d grown up with, about her co-workers, about the lessons she’d learned for getting by in life. Juli chatted on, surprised at herself. It was unlike her to open up her history for inspection. Once or twice she suspected he’d fallen asleep, but when she looked at him, his eyes were fixed upon her and he seemed fascinated by her monologue. So she talked. She knew the words were lost in the void, spoken to a man she’d never see again.

That night she felt as clear-headed as she ever had. Juli suspected it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When life as you know it pauses and you realize there’s nothing else to do, but to go on in the same unsatisfactory way you always have, it’s a black moment. Driving through the night, over the bridge, and along the ramrod straight, mostly dark, Atlantic Avenue that stretched the length of the island, Juli sensed a change coming. She caught her breath and her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

Soon after they crossed the town line into Emerald Isle, Ben said, “Turn here.”

His house looked impressive, a duplex rising several stories. It seemed immense in the moonlight and on the far side, the beach side, the full force of the Atlantic Ocean crashed onto the shore, sounding violent and reassuring and timeless, all at once.

She experienced a first—a serendipitous flash of being in a place where she belonged.

Wishful thinking.

She parked his car in the open area below the house and walked with him to the base of the wooden stairs. The stairs scaled the exterior side of the house. They were steep, especially in the dark with the night wind whipping around from the ocean side, flinging sand and salt.

“You’re welcome to come up while I call the cab service. I don’t have their number programmed in my cell.” For the first time, he seemed nervous.

“No, thanks. I’ll wait down here.”

“I understand.” He drew some bills from his wallet. “Here. I can’t thank you enough for your help. I’ll go up and make the call. If you get worried or it takes too long for the cab to arrive, let me know.”

“Your keys and your phone.” She handed them to him.

He started up the stairs and she couldn’t help watching—he moved like an old man. Well, he’d gotten his wish and was home now, and she had picked up a nice bit of cash.

Juli perched on a low rock wall to wait. It was dark, but only about eight o’clock or so. The street was quiet despite the many houses and most had their exterior lights on. Above her, a window scraped open.

She looked up and he called out, “Are you okay down there?”

“Fine.” She waved. The house blocked most of the onshore breeze, but she was still chilly. She pulled a sweater from her backpack and settled in to wait. The tangy smell of the ocean and the sound of surf, artificially loud in the quiet of night, transported her a thousand miles away from practicality and reality.

The mood was lovely and lasted until the cab dropped her off at the entry to her second floor walkup on the backside of a renovated apartment house. Not bad. Worn and slightly dingy, but as neat as she could make it. It was her own place and she worked hard to support herself. She was self-reliant and proud of it.

Juli tossed her backpack into the corner behind the sofa. When she removed the elastic band from her hair, she sighed and massaged her fingertips into her scalp. It felt as good as getting out of those pumps.

So much for Sammy and his catering crew. She’d stuck with that job as long as she had because it was convenient to grab a ride with Frankie, but everyone had their limit and she’d met hers this evening. Convenience and a paycheck didn’t justify every job.

She needed to concentrate on finding work that offered some kind of future.





Chapter Two



Juli watched Ben Bradshaw walk into Singer’s Market on Tuesday morning. Her cheeks grew warm and she tensed when he stopped to survey the line of cash registers.

She hadn’t expected to see him again, not ever, and she didn’t believe in coincidence. She raised her hand to get his attention.

He was thin, but had a hint of color in his cheeks and a sparkle in his warm, toffee-colored eyes. “Miss Cooke, I was hoping I could talk to you.” He glanced around. “I guess this isn’t a good time?”