The Stolen Canvas(17)

“You still work for the old lady who owns that big Victorian house on Ocean Drive?”

“Mrs. Holden passed away; her granddaughter owns it now.” He paused. “So what brings you to Stony Point?”

Jem stopped, drew in a long breath, and looked back toward the lighthouse, the marina and the bay, golden with molten sunshine. “Yeah,” he said in a dreamy exhalation, “it has been a while, but the old place looks the same. Maybe a bit more prosperous. Lobstering and tourism ain’t been half bad, seems like.” As they gazed over the well-trimmed lawns, the neat shops, the clean boardwalks, and the busy beaches, Wally felt pride in his hometown.

“We do all right,” Wally said. “Summer people spread the word; seems like we get more every year.” He waited for an answer to his question. Why had Jem turned up now?

“I tell you, little brother,” Jem began with a slow drawl. “Real estate’s in a bit of a slump right now, so I thought it would be a good time to get a little R and R. And why not good old Stony Point? Catch up with my kin.” Jem rubbed his jaw. “Is the Shark’s Head still around? I sure could use a drink.”

Wally hadn’t touched a drop since he and Peggy had gotten married. But not staying sober had a lot to do with the accident that put him in Stony Point General for six weeks where he’d had time to think about where his life was going. Reverend Wallace had told him God was watching out for him and that there was a reason for everything. Wouldn’t Jem get a good laugh out of that! Church and God were topics for old ladies, he’d say, not for real men.

“I gotta get home,” Wally said uncomfortably. He moved on toward his truck parked in the shade along Cedar Street. He had retrieved it after Peggy had finished her shift. “Peggy will be waiting supper.” He fished for his keys with fingers still stiff from balling his fists. He wasn’t about to have a drink with Jem or anybody. In the old days they had sometimes swiped bottles from his dad’s stash—but those were the old days.

“So you’re married now, little brother?”

Wally winced over the “little brother” bit. You’d think they were still kids instead of grown men in their thirties. “Best thing I ever did. We have a little girl; name’s Emily.” Jem would remember Peggy from high school since she lived next door, but Peggy never asked about him. There were a lot of the old locals who would remember Jeremiah Carson, certainly. “And what about you, Jem? You have a family?”

“Me?” Jem quipped, as though the idea were outrageous. “Nah, I’ve had a few close calls, but no girl has tied me down yet.”

He’d had his choice of Stony Point girls, Wally remembered, and Jem had liked to party. But you’d think by the time a man reached his age that he would settle down. “My place is just there, beyond that rise. Come on. Peggy will put on an extra plate.”

“You sure, man? I hate to intrude.”

“You’ve been gone a long time, but you’re still family, Jem.” And Wally was surprised to feel a lump form in his throat.

“Maybe you wouldn’t mind introducing me as J.C.? There are folks around here who’d just as soon forget Jeremiah, if you know what I mean. I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot with the good folk of Stony Point.”

Wally shrugged and opened the door to his cottage. “Come on in. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s paid for, and Peggy’s fixed it up real fine.” Wally stood aside, waiting for Jem to pass through. A glance around brought a quick sense of relief. Peggy must have gotten home from The Cup & Saucer early enough to tidy up. On Wednesdays a co-worker gave her a ride home, picking up Emily on their way.

“Daddy!” Emily flung herself at him, her hands clutching his legs. “You smell like fish!” She wrinkled her tiny nose, and seeing Jem, cocked her blond head to one side.

“This is Je—‘er—J.C.,” Wally said, “my brother—and your uncle. He’s come for a visit.” Wally felt a burst of pride. He’d always yearned for Jem’s approval, sulked when it never came, and finally had simply let it all go. He no longer needed it; he never even talked about Jem anymore, not even to Peggy. But suddenly, the old feelings crept up from somewhere. Truth was he’d never stopped caring, even when Jem had been, for all intents and purposes, kicked out of town. Not that there hadn’t been reasons. What had brought him back? Was all that talk about position and success true or was Jem still looking for that dime?

“Hello, Mr. J.C.,” Emily said with her usual friendliness, cocking her head to one side and peering up at him.