Читать книгу Secrets At the Cove - Honey Perkel - Страница 5

The beach grass waved in the morning breeze like wheat on farmland. Tilly Jacobs made her way over the fertile dunes walking where others had trod and worn narrow paths in the thick growth. It was the same route she took every morning, sandals in hand, thoughtful, the ocean pounding in her head. She came to walk the beach, to gather strength for the day, to try to make sense of her life.

The sun felt good on her back this morning. It was comforting, like little else in her life. The sand and sea — it was why she’d come to the Oregon Coast. Tilly had been naive to believe her relationship with Richard would be different here than it had been in Montana. She’d yearned for a place to escape, to start fresh, but instead, she was spending her days as a local realtor selling houses — making other people’s dreams come true. Within weeks of arriving, she had found herself already drifting back into the same pattern of grief. And why wouldn’t she? My God, she had lost her son.

At the age of fifty-two, Tilly saw little point to her life. There were days she wanted to die. To be put out of her misery; they did that to horses, didn’t they? Most days she questioned whether she had the strength to see it through, and still others, when she saw a sliver of hope that she just might. She wondered what kind of a day this would be.

Recognizing the familiar rise of anger within her, Tilly prayed for a chance to feel happiness again. But somehow, she’d lost sight of how to get there. Her senses had dulled, had all but died in the past two years — since that icy morning in late December of 2009. Richard had given Mark the keys to the family car. And their lives changed forever. She was no longer interested in life or the living. Mechanically, she moved about her days — not seeing, not tasting, not hearing. Tilly was alone. And not even Richard could reach her. He had tried, as had the grief counselor they’d gone to; however, she wouldn’t let anyone into that dark place in her heart. It was just too personal, a hard knot in her chest which grew larger and heavier every day.

Having made her way to the shore, Tilly let the water splash on her ankles. It was chilly. Cold, compared to the warmth she’d felt from the sun. Cold enough to take one’s breath away. She gave a slight shiver, and began to walk up the beach.

Turning her thoughts to her day, she remembered it was Tuesday. The weekly lunch at Annie Rose’s. It was a time in which she should rejoice, share camaraderie with women she knew and cared about, but for the past few months, Tilly had grown to dread their hours together. Putting on a face, an act for these women who called one another friend.

They laughed and joked like they didn’t have a care in the world. Well, she did and she wasn’t about to share her problems with anyone. They weren’t friends, contrary to what they might believe. They were strangers. If only they’d admit it.