Page 8 of Return to Cheshire Bay
“Mom’s good.Living the high life in Arizona with my step-dad.”
Isearched his face when I heard the hurt in his voice and walked back over to the kitchen.“Awe. I had no idea they split.”
Mindyou, I really hadn’t been keeping up with what was going onaround theseparts.
“They didn’t.”His face fell. “Dad died six years ago.”
I restedmy weary butt on one ofthe stools around his bar-height table. “Geez, that sucks. I’msorry for your loss. Were you close?”
Aweathered expression filled his face and dulled the shine in his eyes.“Yeah.”
“Aww, I’mreally sorry. That’s rough.”
“Yep, soI know what you’re goingthrough. It’s not easy.” He passed me an empty plate. “Sorry, it’snothing fancy, just pulled pork sandwiches and salad. And I onlythrew in the salad because I figured you needed yournutrients.”
It wascute, and a small smile leaked out unsuspectingfrom my lips. “That’s very nice. And thislooks delicious.”
FollowingEric’s movements, I opened a huge hamburger bun and piled on thesweet-smelling pork onto one half. Closing it up, I scooped outsome runny coleslaw onto my plate.
“Yougood if we eat out onthe deck?”
“Soundsdelightful.” Where mydeck was completely open aired, Eric’s had been screened, so itallowed all the fresh air minus the little flying pests that alwaysseemed to come out when there was food around. I sat in one of theAdirondack chairs and took a bite of my sandwich. It was heavenly.“This is really good.”
“I’ll take itas a high compliment.”
There was anuncurrent of a tone, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what itwas.
“So,since I dropped all my drama on your lap, why don’t you tell me your story.” I tookanother bite.
“I have nostory.”
I found thathard to believe. Everyone had a story. Everyone had a past. Iswallowed down my bite before speaking. “I don’t buy it.”
“Whynot?” He faced me and took a long pull from his bottle.
Ishrugged. “Because I can’tbelieve that you… Well…” Whatever was going to follow that,likely was going to come across as rude, so I closed my mouth.“What made you come back and live here permanently? You were a citydweller in summers past.”
“Gottired of the hustle and bustle,and a life that was always go-go-go.”
I was acity girl, born and raised, who only came to the beach in thesummer. Go-go-go was just how life was. “The city, especially inthe winter, has so much to offer. There’salways the theatre and museums and an endlessarray of activities to keep a person busy.”
“Why does onehave to be busy constantly to be fulfilled?”
“Becausethey do.” It’s just whatadults did - worked all the time, made a decent living, enjoyedlife when they could.
“Youmean to tell me youcan’t just sit here for hours staring out into that?” Hepointed out to the endless horizon.
Yes, theview was spectacular and soothing, but no, I couldn’t spend hoursjust staring. I’d need something to do – read a book at the bare minimum, but I was morelikely to paint or work and glance at it occasionally. As it was, Ihadn’t truly rested since I arrived. There was just alwayssomething that required my attention. I hadn’t even had a swim inthe Pacific Ocean.
“Nope.Notpossible. For me, anyway.”
“That’s why I’mnot a guy who’s big on that kind of life. There was nothing beyondhere that begged me to leave this all behind. After a day’s work, Ican sit here and just enjoy the beauty of nature.”
TheDarth Vader thememarched right into the conversation.Damn you, Parker. As always,your timing stinks.
I dugout my phone and flipped the switch to silent. He could call allnight if he wanted, I wasn’t answering. See how he liked it.Jerk.
“Thatsame caller.” If there was atsk on the tip of his tongue, it was gone in aflash.