Sandover Beach Memories Read online

  Jackson felt like a coward watching, when all he wanted to do was run down all three flights and hold her. Instead, when she happened to look up, Jackson simply waved. He opened his mouth to call out, but Jenna hurried away. The way she practically ran back to the car should have prepared him for the disdain that dripped from her voice this morning.

  Like a fool, he had hoped to get a second chance with the one girl he had always wanted. You weren’t supposed to fall in love when you were sixteen and carry that love, unrequited, until you were a few years shy of forty. Not that Jackson hadn’t done his fair share of dating. He had. But Jenna stayed with him, mostly in the back of his mind, until he saw her again at the funeral. Then it was like that high school crush fanned into hot flames of something much deeper. He didn’t want to really think about the feelings he had for Jenna. Especially since they were clearly not returned.

  Jackson sank down in his office chair, feeling deflated. His anger still hummed under the surface, but for now, he wasn’t going to punch a hole in something. For years, Jackson thought his attraction stemmed from that whole wanting-what-you-can’t have thing. Jenna was always with that jerk Steve, at least until their senior year when she finally wised up. After the breakup, Jackson had asked her out, but she said no. Stupidly, he tried to hook up with her sister Rachel to make her jealous. That not-so genius plan backfired and led to one of the moments he was most ashamed of.

  Jackson didn’t start the rumors about him and Rachel or even confirm them, but the story spread anyway. The whole school thought he slept with Jenna’s sister, when he hadn’t so much as kissed her. He did find the source of the rumors and put a stop to it, but that wasn’t enough. Rachel and Jenna both got hurt and he knew that they blamed him. He should have done more.

  What he had planned to do when he talked to Jenna again was to apologize. The year before, Jackson had gotten to apologize to Rachel when she and her husband visited Mrs. Monroe. He had pulled Rachel aside in the parking lot as she walked with her family to the car. It had been awkward, but Jackson let the apology tumble out. Through experience he had learned that apologies were best when sincere and unplanned. You couldn’t ever contrive the right words. It had to be from the heart. Rachel had surprised him with easy forgiveness—and a hug.

  Rachel may have forgiven him, but obviously Jenna didn’t. She made that more than clear this morning, cutting him down to his knees dressed in yoga pants with sleep-ruffled hair. Despite her cruelty, Jackson found her unbearably attractive, even in her messy morning state. He wanted to run his hands through her hair.

  Jackson groaned. Why had he talked to her about cheese? Why didn’t he start with an apology?

  “Everything okay back here, boss? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His store manager, Mercer, stood just inside the doorway of his office, as though she could tell he needed a little space. He hadn’t even heard her come in.

  “Something like that.”

  “Do you … want to talk about it?”

  Jackson smiled at the hesitation in her voice. Usually Jackson was the one asking her if she needed anything. She never did. Mercer was only twenty-two and he had become something of her mentor. Sometimes he suspected that she saw him as a father figure, even though there was only sixteen years between them. His best friends were her age, but the distance seemed greater between Jackson and Mercer. He didn’t mind, as the last thing he wanted was to blur professional lines with any hint of attraction.

  As proficient as she was at her job, Mercer kept a bit of mystery about herself. A few months ago, she had showed up at Bohn’s looking for work. Jackson took one look at her and got the impression that she was running from something. And if he used so much as the wrong word, she would run again. Jackson remembered her deft avoidance of questions about her past when he interviewed her. He recognized this because he was always trying to avoid talking about his own past. He gave her a job, half-expecting her to leave in a few months without telling him.

  Mercer started as a bagger, then moved up to cashier. When Jackson started noticing small improvements around the store, it took him a week to realize that Mercer was responsible. The produce section was rearranged in a way that had customers thanking him. His office was suddenly clean, his files organized. Hand-lettered chalkboard signs appeared around the store. Jackson had promoted her to store manager and Mercer continued to surprise him. She still hadn’t opened up, but he could tell that she had started to feel safe here.

  “I don’t want to talk, but I appreciate you asking. I’ll be fine. What’s happening this week?”

  “One of the produce shipments was delayed, but that’s fine. If we need to, I can send someone Off Island to a produce stand. They always have a great selection.”

  “I like staying local. If we run low, do it.”

  Mercer pulled her lip between her teeth, a tell that Jackson had come to recognize. Usually a great idea followed. “I was thinking … Actually, maybe this isn’t a good time.”

  “No, tell me. I have a moment.” And it would take his mind off Jenna. At least for a few minutes, anyway.

  She hesitated. In his current state, he just wanted to yell at her to spit it out, but he had learned with Mercer that if he waited, her answers were worth it.

  “I was thinking maybe we could have a section of the produce department sourced locally. The farm stands along the road coming onto Sandover have had a hard time staying open the last few years. This would help them and appeal to locals On Island.”

  Those farm stands had been around for as long as Jackson could remember. He and his mother used to drive out at least once a week to buy juicy watermelons and tomatoes so sweet you could eat them like apples. The recent growth and development of the island had led to North Carolina building an interstate, which meant that the farm stands were easily passed over.

  Sandover would have developed with or without his family’s company, but Jackson felt guilty because of the negative impact on the community. He had done his best to develop the island ethically, keeping things as they had historically been wherever possible and fighting the high-rise hotels that were eager to bulldoze over historic homes along the beach. The houses there—like his own—were bigger than the historic homes that still stood, but were much better than having twenty-story hotels.

  Mercer picked up steam as she talked. “Another option might be to bring the stands to us. Maybe on Saturdays, kind of like a farmer’s market? We could sell their produce in-store during the week and then out in the parking lot with actual stands on the weekend. There might be other local vendors interested as well.”

  “That’s brilliant. You want to run with it? Talk to the farm stand owners about both ideas. Are you comfortable doing that?”

  She smiled, looking thrilled. “Absolutely. I’d love to.”

  “On Islanders will love it and I bet it will really help the farms. It’s a great idea, Mercer.”

  Under his praise, she turned shy again and Jackson sensed he needed to back off. He never pressed her. If she wanted to talk to him, she knew he was there. She had connected with some of the other young singles at Hope, the church Jackson attended. Hopefully they were enough of a support system for whatever she was working through.

  Jackson stood. “I’m heading home for a bit. You can call me on my cell if you need to. Thanks again, Mercer.”

  “Before I forget, I found a cart full of cheeses needing to be restocked. Someone abandoned it over by the wine. Do you know anything about that?”

  He groaned. He knew all about that. “That was me, actually. Kind of a long story. Would you mind taking care of it?”

  “Not at all, boss.”

  Jackson went out through the back to his Jeep. The abandoned cart of cheese had him thinking back to Jenna’s face when she recognized him. Before disgust had colored her gaze, Jackson thought he caught a flash of something else. Surprise and … appreciation? If not for everything that came out of her mouth after, he might have even thought it w
as attraction. Clearly not.

  Jenna still saw him as the jerk of a womanizer he’d been in high school. He had been the guy with an anger problem who had failed out of business school. His past was a stain. It didn’t matter how much he had changed, no matter how many millions he donated to charity or service projects he took part in with the local church, he couldn’t remove it. He felt like he was constantly chasing his own shadow, trying to erase it, but finding it always right there behind him. Even after coming to believe that Jesus had taken his sin away, Jackson struggled to really feel that he was clean.

  The anger started to build again, making his chest feel tight. He needed a release. The punching bag that hung underneath the bottom deck of his house served just this purpose. The sound of the ocean roaring as he connected again and again with the unflinching weight of the heavy bag was therapeutic. It kept him from putting his fist through any walls.

  Using the Bluetooth feature, Jackson called Beau. Just hearing his friend’s voice often calmed him. Beau had that kind of effect on people. “Jax! I thought I might be hearing from you today.”

  “Have you developed the gift of prophecy overnight?”

  Beau laughed. “More like, I heard that Jenna was back in town.”

  “Right.”

  Despite becoming more of a tourist destination, Sandover still had a very small-town feel, especially to the year-round locals, who referred to themselves as On Islanders. It made sense that within twenty-four hours, people already knew Jenna was home. Jackson gripped the wheel, trying to work out what exactly he wanted to say now that he had Beau on the line. “I saw her this morning. Actually, last night too, but I talked to her this morning.”

  “I take it that things didn’t go well?”

  “If I said ‘bad,’ that would be too generous. She thought I worked at Bohn’s, like as a bag boy or something.”

  Beau began to laugh. Jackson wanted to be angry, but Beau’s laughter drew out a smile instead. If he hadn’t been so busy having his feelings hurt, it was funny. “In her defense, I was wearing an apron and restocking.”

  Beau’s laughter now roared through the car speakers. Jackson was laughing too by the time he pulled into the parking spot under his house. Like all the houses along the oceanfront, it was on stilts. He didn’t move to get out of the Jeep yet.

  “I’m sorry for laughing, but that is a great story. I can’t wait to tell Jimmy. Can I tell Jimmy?”

  “Of course. Tell the whole fire station. I’m sure the On Islanders will all know within the hour anyway.”

  At least once a week, Jackson met for what Beau called Breakfast and Bible. Jimmy, another firefighter, also came and sometimes Cash, a police officer. The other three were in their twenties, but the age difference didn’t seem to matter. They were Jackson’s closest friends, the best he’d had in his life. Their breakfast talks hit him harder than the sermons Sunday mornings.

  Beau’s voice had more concern in it when he spoke again. “Seriously, though—how are you doing?”

  “I came home to get out some aggression, if that tells you anything. Thought maybe you could talk me down a bit.” Beau knew all about his anger issues. His counselor had recommended finding a person who could help Jackson calm down and move away from the path of anger.

  “Anything in particular about the conversation that got to you?”

  Jackson rested his forehead against the wheel. There were a lot of things about the conversation that hurt, but picking the part that hurt the most was easy.

  “Jenna only sees who I used to be. I’m not ever going to be able to escape that guy—the one who had shallow relationships and flunked out of business school.”

  “Jax, look. You don’t stop struggling when you become a Christian. You struggle more because you see the things you’re doing differently. You have a sense of conviction now that you didn’t then. It’s always going to be hard to look back. But you are not your past. It shaped you but doesn’t have to define you. Your actions don’t simply disappear, but you can’t let shame over things you’ve done poison you. Even if Jenna sees your past when she looks at you right now. She’s wrong, by the way. And I hope she realizes it.”

  “It’s a wasted hope.”

  “You don’t know that. But even if she doesn’t ever change how she sees you, remember: as far as east is from west—that’s what the Bible says. You’re not carrying your past around anymore. It happened. But you can’t wear it around anymore, letting it weigh you down. East from West, man.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way,” Jackson said. “I can still see every person I used and hurt. It’s still all right here with me, all the time.”

  An alarm blared in the background. “I’ve got to go. Look, sometimes we don’t feel the truth. We have to actively choose to believe it. Are you at home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go hit the bag, Jax.”

  Five minutes later Jackson had stripped down to a T-shirt with his hands taped, ready to go to war on his memories and feelings. Jackson warmed up with a few jabs, feeling the tension leave his body as he hopped lightly from foot to foot. The first couple of hard swings sent pain shooting up his hands and through his arms, but after a few minutes, he felt nothing but the power of his hands connecting with the heavy bag. Just over the dunes, the ocean roared, an echo of his emotions.

  As his fists connected with the bag again and again, Jackson let his mind move freely. This was a good way to start to let go, just allowing his thoughts to roam. They always roamed back to the same place. Or, rather—person.

  His mind wound back to the moment that woke up the feelings that had been sleeping inside him for years. Twenty of them, give or take.

  From the back of the church, Jackson had watched Jenna walk in through one of the doors up front. Jenna had tugged on a simple pearl necklace she wore over her black dress, as though she didn’t want to be wearing it. Her hair was pulled back and, as she faced the front and sat next to her sister, he found himself admiring the elegant line of her neck.

  This is a funeral. You shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful her neck is. Where is her husband?

  He knew now that she and her husband had separated. Word always got out on the Island, even about people like Jenna who had left. Surprisingly, he didn’t know details. Just that they weren’t together.

  At the funeral, Jackson had been furious with the absent-husband. Someone should have been there for her. Rachel sat next to Jenna, but also had her husband and three girls with them. Jenna was completely alone. Jackson had ached with the desire to wrap her in his arms, tuck her head beneath his chin, and be her comfort. It gutted him to see this and to know that even if he wanted to comfort her, she wouldn’t have let him. Instead of even speaking to her, Jackson slipped away without Jenna even knowing he was there. She probably had no idea that her mother was in Jackson’s Sunday School class. She might have laughed if her mother had told her.

  Jackson poured his bitterness, his anger, his shame, his regret into his fists. Again and again he hit the bag. Now that he was warm, he focused his thoughts, taking them away from Jenna and the worries of today. Lately he had tried something new: timing his punches with the words from Bible verses that helped calm him.

  I-punch-can-punch-do-punch-all-punch-things-punch-through-punch-him-punch-who-punch-gives-punch-me-punch-strength.

  That was one of his favorites, Philippians 4:13. Beau once explained how this verse was usually misunderstood.

  “People think it means that you can accomplish your goals or do what you set your mind to,” Beau had said during one of their Bible and Breakfasts. “But if you read the verses right before, Paul is saying that he’s learned the secret of getting through all situations: being content no matter what happens. When he says he can do all things, he means, he can be content in any circumstance.”

  Those words stayed with Jackson: he could be content no matter the circumstance. Even if that circumstance was Jenna still hating his guts.


  The muscles in his arms twitched. His hands were numb, his T-shirt soaked with sweat. Jackson knew he should stop if he wanted to be able to use his arms tomorrow. He worked out most days, but it was always a harder workout when he was angry. He had never been fat, but he also had never been athletic. Now he had chiselled arms and a six pack, a bonus from working through his feelings with his fists.

  Not that it mattered. Jenna clearly cared more about a person’s heart, and she thought his wasn’t worth caring about. He rested his forehead on the bag for a moment, closing his eyes and hearing only the cry of gulls and the pounding of surf. His thoughts had cooled, but they still hovered around her.

  Was she staying long?

  Was she staying permanently?

  What could he do to get a fresh start with her?

  His phone buzzed from where it sat on the wooden picnic table nearby. Jackson groaned before he had even finished reading the message from his daughter, Megan.

  * * *

  Megan: hey “dad.” Kim is shipping me 2u this weekend for babysitting duty yay

  * * *

  He watched the phone as the little dots indicated that she was typing a message. Jackson had only found out he had a daughter a few months before. Megan was twelve and barely tolerated him, though from what he had seen, she tolerated her mother, Kim, even less. That felt like a small win, even though he had no idea how to start parenting a pre-teen from scratch.

  When Kim, whom he hadn’t talked to in twelve years, called to tell him about Megan, he was at first terrified, then thrilled. He had sort of given up on the idea of having kids, along with the idea of getting married. At thirty-eight and single, realistically, time was winding down. But any joy he felt at the idea of being a parent was stripped away when Megan started spending one weekend a month with him. The only things they had in common was a mutual disdain for Kim and a love of sushi. Megan spent every waking hour on her cell phone or tablet. He continued to try but felt like most of his efforts to connect with her failed.