stairs. This was not what he’d had in mind when he invited Zack to tour the Outer Banks with him that morning. He’d wanted to share the area with his son, to instill in Zack a love of the Barrier Islands. But so far, his plan had not worked. They’d visited the Wright Brothers Memorial and Museum. Zack had sighed repeatedly, twisting and turning in his seat during the lecture, and he’d trudged about twenty paces behind his father as they walked up the grassy hill to the memorial itself. Zack saw no point at all in visiting the wildlife refuge and he had no interest in taking a boat ride to see the dolphins. Rory was afraid that what was really boring Zack was his company. Around his newfound friends on the beach, Zack was lively, active and perpetually smiling—nothing like the somber kid Rory was dragging from one attraction to another.
Rory had purchased memberships for both Zack and himself at the health club where Daria belonged, but even there, he’d felt distanced from his son. Zack liked the fastpaced classes—the cardio-kick boxing and the spinning class on the bikes. Rory and his knee could handle neither.
He was winded by the time he reached the balcony at the top of the lighthouse. The view was stunning: curlicues of land and water for as far as he could see. He spotted Zack sitting on the bench far below him, and he would have waved at him, had Zack been looking up, but that was not the case. Rory had the balcony to himself. He leaned against the railing and looked out to sea, and for the first time that day, let his mind drift away from his son to the woman he’d met on the beach. Grace. He’d called her that morning. She said she’d been hoping he would call, and those words raised his spirits. He asked if he could come down to Rodanthe to see her, but she said she would prefer coming to Kill Devil Hills. They made plans for the following day.
He’d thought about her often over the past few days, remembering the many questions she’d asked him and her genuine interest. It had not been the sort of fabricated, calculated interest women often showed in him, which he knew was meant to entice him. Since his divorce, he’d met many women who were interested in him primarily because he was Rory Taylor. He had not felt that way with Grace. Her questions had not been about fame or fortune,
but about his ideas, particularly his idea for the foundling episode on True Life Stories.
There were two ships far out in the ocean, tiny white specks in the distance, and he imagined what it would be like to have been a lighthouse keeper back in the old days, trudging up these stairs, making sure the huge lens was clean and the light inside burning. But his mind only rested on those images for a moment before returning to Grace.
He’d wanted to call her sooner, and the newness of her separation and Daria’s warning about his being too much of a caretaker were only part of his hesitation to do so. It was Zack who stopped him. How did you date when you had a fifteen-year-old son to set a good example for?
He’d dated since his divorce, but not on the weekends and holidays when he had Zack with him. Of course, Glorianne had not only dated someone else, she had married him as well, and Zack had survived that upheaval in his life. Glorianne had not, however, set a good example for their son. Not by a long shot. That had to be Rory’s primary concern. Yet he wanted the chance to get to know Grace better.
He looked down at Zack, who was now stretched out on the bench, arms folded across his chest, and possibly even asleep. He was most likely thinking about the Wheelers’ granddaughter, Kara, that pretty little flirt who’d been glued to Zack’s hip since their arrival in Kill Devil Hills. Maybe that was how he could connect with his son:
women. He’d tried sharing his memories of his own adventures at each of the sites they’d visited, and that had elicited only more of the eye-rolling and yawning. He might as well try some guy talk about women. He descended the circular staircase inside the lighthouse quickly, primed for his new approach.
Zack had indeed fallen asleep on the bench, and Rory nudged his shoulder.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Zack got up and walked with Rory to the parking lot.
“Well,” Rory said as he and Zack got back into the car.
“Where to now?”
“How about Poll-Rory?” Zack suggested.
“Oh, come on, Zack,” Rory said.
“One more spot. Why don’t we go down to the dunes in Nag’s Head? We can watch the hang gliders.” He realized his son had not yet gotten a good look at the dunes. Nor had he, in twenty years, although at one time they’d been the most alluring, most tantalizing part of the Outer Banks for him.
“Whatever,” Zack said.
They drove in silence for a couple of miles, Rory trying to find a way to begin the conversation.
“So, tell me about Kara,” he said finally.
“Like what?” Zack asked.
“Anything.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” Zack said.
“How old is she?”
“Fifteen.”
“Where does she live in the winter?”
“Philadelphia.”
“How long has she had that pierced navel?” Why did he ask that?
“Awhile, I guess.”
“Does she have any hobbies?”
Zack rolled his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said.
