Rogue Wave by Isabel Jolie (reading eggs books txt) 📕

grazed her thumb over my cheek, tilting my face up, measuring me. “Come.”

We both sat down on her back porch, overlooking the marsh. The golds and greens mixed, and the wildlife staccato vibrated around us. Winter covered the southern island with a tender stroke. The days were chillier, and some nights brought frost. A sweater combatted the chilly air on most days. The reddish-brown hues displayed prominently along the landscape offered the predominant evidence of our distance from the sun.

She passed me my tea, and my fingers warmed around the ceramic mug.

“Your family is good?”

“Yes, they are.” I smiled. “They will release Dad to work again within a week or two. That’ll make Mom happy. It drives her a little crazy when he’s just sitting around, even if it is doctor’s orders.”

“And she’s working so hard? Understandable. He’s going back to roofing?”

I sighed out my disappointment. “Yeah, I think so. But this time he’s returning as a manager, and he’ll be overseeing several sites. He’s been offered a supervisor role before, but he’s always liked being one of the workers. Says sweating in the sun makes him feel worthwhile. But I think this latest fall made him face the fact he’s getting older.”

“There aren’t many things in life that are harder to face than getting older. But it’s as certain as the sun rising. And the alternative, well, once we’re nourishing the soil, our conscience is no longer.” She paused, her dark ebony eyes honing in. “But this sad face. ’Tis not for your family, no?”

“Maybe. I always thought my parents would divorce once my sister and I left home. And they haven’t yet, but…”

“You believe they should?”

“Sometimes. It’s not what I wish for them, but I’m not sure they make each other happy.”

“How long have your parents been married?”

“Twenty-five years. They’ve been together longer.”

“Relationships ebb and flow, like a sea through the marsh. Maybe you’re right, or maybe they bring each other a happiness you can’t easily see. But it’s not for you to concern yourself with. The only two people who know the rhythm of a relationship are the two banging those drums and spinning the music.” She paused and placed her weathered hand over my knee. “If they decide to part, their love for you won’t change.”

“Oh, I know that. I do. I spent so much time thinking they stayed together for us, you know, me and my sister. And yet they’re still together. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Or maybe on some days you were right, and some days you were wrong. Ebb and flow. But this sad face. It is not for your family. Tell me.”

I sipped my tea. Her kind eyes and gentle words tempted me to unload. Poppy still hadn’t returned from Las Vegas where she’d gone to get certified in restaurant management. I’d thought about calling my sister, but she’d already written Tate off as someone I needed to forget. Nova wanted me to focus on my next gig, and she seemed particularly keen on me traveling the world like I’d always wanted. Alice’s ebony fingers squeezed mine. What to say?

“I liked a guy more than he liked me.” I lifted my shoulders and exhaled loudly enough to blend in with our surroundings. “A tale as old as time, right?”

“Are we talking about my Adrian?”

I kicked at a dried, shriveled leaf on the step, masking my smile with my hair as I bent my head down. Very few people ignored Tate’s wishes and called him Adrian.

“Darlin’, take it slow. All you need is patience.”

“Patience? He left months ago, leaving me a letter. Didn’t respond to any of my texts. And now he’s adopted a daughter. It’s over. And he’s hired this…” I stopped myself. I wouldn’t go there. I refused to spew jealous hate.

“Adrian is a good man. He’s healing. Sometimes when we heal, we have to protect the wound until it scabs. This girl he’s adopted, she’s part of his healing. He’s a little lost, but he’ll find his way. It’ll come together fine.” She put her left hand flat on my forehead, then reached for my right wrist and placed her palm over my pulse. She closed her eyes and hummed, weaving left and right. The vibrations of her song soothed the deep sadness rooted in my chest. When she opened her eyes, concern flashed momentarily across her features. She let me go.

“Sit. I’ll be right back.”

She rattled around, opening drawers in an old dresser left outside on the back porch. She stepped down and disappeared behind the brick altar. She came around the corner, her hips swaying as she sang in a rhythmic mix of Spanish and English. Mesmerized, I observed. Her bare feet crunched the leaves as she returned, holding out a woven necklace with a piece of shell for a pendant. “You wear this. Keep the good spirits with you, si?”

My fingers clasped the smooth shell, and I nodded my submission. I didn’t believe in the world of spirits Alice succumbed to, but I’d never dispute it. After all, her world version was far more colorful than mine.

She uttered one last word to me before I drove away. “Patience.”

The next day, I stopped by the Sail Shop and picked up a big, hooded sweatshirt. I rummaged through my shell collection and found an unblemished starfish and a sand dollar. Then I stopped by to bring the welcome gifts to Tate’s daughter. It felt like the cordial, southern thing to do.

Even if Tate didn’t want a relationship with me, there was nothing that said we couldn’t have a friendship. And surely his new daughter could use an extra friend. There weren’t many of us locals on the island in the offseason, and in the height of summer, the vast majority dropped in and out for a week or two at most. In such a secluded environment, the year-round residents banded together.

When I arrived at Tate’s, I found him outside pumping air into a bicycle tire. His friend Gabe leaned against