If she’d been here, she would probably have told him there was some pain you couldn’t work through. Some pain was so real that there was nothing to do but let it in. Somehow, though, he’d made it through mourning her with his head bent down in duty, first in the service and later at the Sabrina Raven estate.
And even before seeing the beach—the reason he’d driven all this way—he felt deep in his core that somehow, now he was okay. He was ready to let it all go. Ready to move on. Ready to really live. That letter of his mother’s could wait. For months, maybe for years. Someday, he’d open it. Or maybe he wouldn’t.
Having finally reached the western edge of the continent, he parked in a public access lot. He stepped out, stretched his stiff back and neck, and sucked in a breath of cool ocean air before raising the seat to let Frankie hop out.
Frankie raised his head as he jumped down, sniffing the sea-salt moisture on the wind. Storm-gnarled evergreens decorated the edges of the parking lot and nearby two-story hotel. Cedar-planked coastal houses dotted the hillside, nestled in a wash of green firs, spruces, hemlocks, and cedars.
Kurt spotted a pedestrian sign for the beach and urged Frankie along. They wound through a dense grove of waxy brush that opened to an expanse of light-gray sand, blue-gray ocean brushed with foamy white caps, rolling dunes, haystack rock formations jutting out of the water, and rocky cliffs surrounded by a forest of emerald green.
A smile tugged at the corners of Kurt’s mouth. He chuckled and brushed tears from the corners of his eyes. He’d been a lot of places, but he’d never seen anything so starkly beautiful. He suspected Nana would’ve agreed with him. He could swear he caught the scent of her lavender lotion in the salty air. His hand slipped into his pocket and closed over the wooden bead rosary.
He led Frankie north on the beach, away from a small group of people wading around a massive rock haystack that rose several stories skyward at the edge of the ocean. A half-dozen beachgoers had dogs with them. Some on leashes, others off. Frankie eyed them warily until they were far enough away, then he turned his attention to the lapping waves.
The sun sank low, sending a yellow, gold, and purple glow across the sky. Kurt unclipped the leash and let Frankie run across the deserted sand. If he could do anything over, it would be to bring Nana here.
A memory rushed in of the day in fifth grade when he beat up Jimmy Varges for spitting on a third grader and got expelled for two days. The worst part was coming home to face the sternness of William Crawford. After a lecture that wounded his pride more than any spanking ever had, Kurt had locked himself in his room.
He let Nana in sometime later. She sank to the bed beside him after having pulled that book out of God knows where. She hadn’t read it to him in a couple of years. He was too old to be read to. But he let her read it and still knew every upcoming picture before she turned the page. A boy and his grandma and a cold, windy beach and nobody else in the world.
He held the rosary in an open, calloused palm. A wave crashed over his feet. The water was shockingly cold. A seagull circled curiously before landing a few feet in front of him, eyeing the draping rosary and all but ignoring the dog who was running in and out of the water, barking and kicking up sand.
Kurt walked for a long time, letting the waves numb his feet through his boots, watching the sun disappear below the horizon. Once it was gone, a silver light hung in the air and stars began to dot the darkening sky. The beach was nearly empty aside from a few people huddled around campfires far back from the waves.
When it was so dark he could barely make out the edge of the ocean on the horizon, he pitched the rosary far out into the water.
“I miss you, Nana.” Beside him, Frankie looked up and whined as he gave a hopeful wag of his tail. “Yeah, I know, buddy. It’s time to go home.”
Chapter 29
Ida Greene pressed the button to the elevator on the entry floor of the Clayton high-rise after checking her paperwork for the correct floor, number seventeen. She gave a silent exclamation over what an intuitive person Sabrina had been, right up through the end. Whatever it was that waited for good souls at the end of this life, Ida was determined her sister was there and smiling over this turn of events.
Inside the crowded elevator, Ida settled in for the ride next to the men and women in tailored suits who were going places without seeming to notice much of anything.
Her sister’s law firm, the one that had written her will, was at the northwest edge of the building and had a pleasant view of Forest Park. Megan, the shelter’s director, was already there and waiting in a conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows.
Ida was ushered into the room by an assistant but turned down the water she was offered. Megan stood up and wrapped her in a hug.
“Thanks so much for meeting me here and, more importantly, for agreeing to this.”
Ida waved her off. “How could I not? It’s the best possible outcome I could’ve imagined for my sister’s house, and it’s a win for your shelter too. Sabrina’s will was so long and tedious that I don’t remember the stipulation even being in there. Did you know it all along?”
“Honestly, no, I didn’t. It took Kurt calling and asking to have the will reviewed.”
“I’m not afraid to say how fond I am of that young man. And of your
