Читать книгу The Carpenter's Wife - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 10

“And that’s how it got its name,” Rock said, waving a hand in the air toward the old partially sunken pier just outside the wide window.

Ana watched as he smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. They held that distant darkness that seemed to flare like thunderclouds now and then. He looked down at his plate, then shrugged. “There’s a lot of history on this old island.”

Ana laughed, then nibbled the remains of her baked trout. “So you’re telling me that pier used to be completely safe and sturdy, until twenty years ago when a hurricane came through and almost swept it into the sea? And because of that and the restaurant’s legendary name, no one wants to fix the pier now?”

Rock nodded, grabbed a crispy hush puppy, then chewed before answering. “The first restaurant got washed into the ocean. That was the original Seafood at the Pier fine dining establishment. It had been here since 1910. But after the hurricane, the only thing left was that part of the pier that’s sticking up from the water now. A good place for pelicans and egrets to perch. The owner’s son decided to rebuild under a new name—thus The Sunken Pier Restaurant. Been here and been going strong ever since, through storms and summer tourists alike, frying up fish and steaming up shrimp and lobster, oysters and clams—whatever bounty the sea has to offer.”

Ana stared out the window at the ocean. Dusk had descended over the water in a rainbow of pastel hues—some pinks and reds here, and a few mauves and blues there. The water washed against the ancient remains of the old pier, slapping against the aged wood pilings in an ever-changing, but never-ending melody of life. And what was left of the pier looked somehow symbolic of that life. The thick beams and timbers lay at a haphazard angle, crossways and sideways, like a pile of kindling, stopped in time in mid-collapse.

Ana thought that her own life seemed like that—at times she felt about to fall apart at any minute, but at other times, she dug in, refusing to give up in spite of being beaten down at every turn.

She looked back over at Rock. “I guess I can understand why they left it that way. It’s a reminder of sorts.”

“Exactly,” he said, bobbing his head, a bittersweet smile crinkling his dark-skinned face. “My mother even did a sculpture based on that pier. She called it The Resurrection because the crossbeams of some of the pilings made her think of a cross. She made it out of wood and iron, with a waterfall flowing through it to represent the ocean and life.”

“Where is this sculpture now?” Ana asked. “I imagine some collector snatched it up right away, but I don’t recall seeing it in any of the trade catalogues or art books.”

Rock’s eyes darkened again and the smile disappeared from his face. “You probably never saw it because it wasn’t for sale. But someone acquired the piece, anyway, many years after she’d finished it. Locked it away in a garden behind his fancy mansion up on the bluffs.”

Sensing that Rock didn’t approve of this particular art collector, Ana leaned forward. “Isn’t that a good thing? That your mother sold the piece, I mean?”

He lifted his chin. “Normally, yeah, that’s good, selling a fine piece of art. But she didn’t get a very good price for what she had to give up.”

And that’s all he said. Wondering why he insisted on talking in riddles, Ana watched as he took a long swallow of his iced tea. “Rock,” she said, “did I ask the wrong question?”

Rock glanced over at her as if he’d forgotten she was even there. “No, nothing like that. Let’s change the subject.”

Ana again got the impression that Rock somehow resented his mother’s art. Maybe because it had taken his mother away from him and his brothers? It was a known fact in local art circles that Eloise Dempsey was a woman driven by her talent, a woman who had worked long and hard to become a successful force in the art world. It was also known, from various interviews and articles written about Eloise, that her relationship with her three grown sons was difficult. And even though Eloise knew exactly what to say in order to protect her privacy, she still managed, when necessary, to get a good sound bite on the evening news.

Deciding to venture forth, Ana said, “You know, Rock, I’ve read articles in the trade magazines about your mother. Being an artist is never easy. The art demands a lot, but you and Eloise seem so close. She brags on you—on all of her sons—and she did recommend you to me.”

Rock held his tea glass in one hand while he watched the waves crashing against the seawall and pier outside. “We’ve managed to stay on good terms over the years, in spite of what the media might say. And in spite of what the world doesn’t know or see.”

Thinking he wasn’t going to elaborate, Ana could only nod and sit silently. She didn’t want to appear nosy, yet she yearned to understand what had brought that darkness to his beautiful eyes. “It must have been hard on all of you, losing your father when you were so young.”

“It was tough,” Rock finally said. “For a long time, we didn’t understand why he had to die out there doing what he loved best, shrimping.” He glanced out at the water again. “But then ‘deep calleth unto deep’ or so the scripture says.”

“Did he die in a storm?”

“Yes.” Rock nodded toward the toppled pilings. “The very same hurricane that took that pier.”

Ana let out a little gasp that caused him to look across the space between them. “I’m sorry, Rock. Is that why you don’t want to talk about the sculpture?”

He sighed, kept staring at her, his eyes now as dark and unreadable as the faraway waters over the distant horizon. “It’s not the sculpture, Ana. It’s the fact that my mother designed it out of grief and sorrow and made it into a beautiful symbol of redeeming love. She didn’t sell the sculpture. She gave it to…someone who doesn’t really appreciate it.”

“Can you tell me who?”

Rock set his glass on the table, then folded his hands together across the white linen tablecloth. “I can tell you exactly who, and exactly why. My mother gave that sculpture to my brother Stone. And she gave it to him as a way of asking his forgiveness. Stone took the sculpture, but he has yet to forgive my mother…or me.”

Ana had many more questions, but decided they had to wait. She wouldn’t press Rock into talking about his obviously strained relationship with his middle brother, Stone. From what Ana knew, each of the three Dempsey brothers was successful in his own right. But Stone Dempsey was probably the most successful, business-and money-wise. She’d read somewhere a few years ago that Stone had bought Hidden Hill, a big stucco and stone turn-of-the-century mansion sitting atop the highest bluff on the island, not far from the West Island Lighthouse. But the mansion was crumbling around its foundations, from what Ana had heard. Which meant Stone had to have a lot of money to pour into restoration and renovations, at least.

Did Rock resent his brother’s success?

As they strolled along the shoreline heading back to Rock’s car, Ana couldn’t picture this quiet, talented man resenting anyone because of money. Rock seemed content enough. He had a lovely cottage near the Ankle Curve and he had his little church. He had his own talent, too. His cabinetry work was exquisite. His restoration of old pieces was precise and loving. Based on his ideas, he would turn her kitchen into a functional, but charming, workplace.

So what was eating at this gentle preacher? Ana wondered.

“I guess you’re wondering why I said that about Stone,” Rock told her as he took her hand and guided her a few yards away from the pier and the restaurant to a craggy rock that looked like a readymade bench.

“You don’t have to explain,” she said, taking in their surroundings. Seagulls lifted out overhead, searching for tidbits from the diners strolling along the boardwalk and dunes. “I have…a very delicate relationship with my sister, so you’re allowed the same with your brother.”

“Stone…is bitter,” Rock said. “He blames my mother for our being so poor when we were growing up. You see, she gave up her inheritance to marry our father. His name was Tillman. Everyone called him Till. Till Dempsey, a kid from the wrong side of Savannah. He had the audacity to fall in love with the beautiful debutante from one of the oldest families in Savannah.” He pointed to the big curved rock. “And he brought Eloise here to propose to her. It’s an island tradition.”

A marker sign standing beside the rock stated that this was the Wedding Rock, a place where down through the centuries, sailors and fishermen had proposed to their true loves before heading out to sea. The sign also said that often couples got married here in front of the rock, their faces turned toward the ocean as they pledged their love.

“My parents were so in love, they didn’t care about all that old money back in Savannah. But when my father died, my grandparents tried to make amends. They wanted us to come live with them in Savannah, but on their terms, of course. My mother refused to conform, so we stayed here in what was once the family vacation home, the house she lives in now—the only thing she accepted from her parents—and that was just so we’d have a roof over our heads. Stone got angry with her for refusing their help and their money, and I guess he never got over it. I tried to make him see that we didn’t need them, but he was just twelve years old—you know, that age where peer pressure makes life so hard.

“The other kids teased us because we wore old clothes and couldn’t afford the things they took for granted. Stone resented our mother for that. I rode him pretty hard back then, trying to make him see that we were going to be okay. But we weren’t okay, really, and I guess I wasn’t the easiest person to live with. Stone hasn’t forgotten. It’s not something we like to talk about.”

Ana finished reading the historical marker, then turned to Rock. “If you don’t like talking about this, why did you bring me here to this particular restaurant?”

“The food is good,” he said with logical clarity.

“But the memories—”

“Won’t go away,” he finished as he tugged her down on the smooth surface of the rock. “The memories are scattered all over this island, so I quit fighting them long ago.”

Ana settled down beside him, then held her face up to catch the soft ocean breeze. The wind felt cool on her heated skin, felt good blowing over her hair. “So we both have painful memories. Why is it so hard to let go, Rock?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes open and honest. “I read a quote once about old memories and young hope. I guess we cling to the sadness of the past in hopes that something better will come along and change the future.”

“You have a good memory for quotes, at least,” she said, smiling. “I like that.”

“Really?” He lifted a dark brow, tilting his head toward her. “Most women find my quotes—and me—stuffy and old-fashioned.”

“I’m an old-fashioned kind of girl, remember?”

“Yes, I do recall.” He leaned back against the veined rock. “And I apologize. We didn’t get to discuss business very much.”

“We’ll have tomorrow for business,” she said. Then she ran a hand over the gray-blue rock formation. “The Wedding Rock—very romantic. I bet there are a lot of memories here.”

He nodded, his eyes shimmering a deep, dark blue. “And young hope for new, better memories to come. Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to this spot.”

Wondering why he had taken Ana to that sad, old pier, Rock walked Ana inside her house, then checked around to make sure everything was intact.

“We rarely have any crime here on the island,” he told her, hoping to reassure her. “We have a two-man police department and I think they mostly play cards and watch television all day. Or rescue a cat from a tree here and there.” Then he grinned. “Besides, you strike me as a capable, independent woman.”

“I already have a security system in place,” she told him as she hit buttons on the code box on the hallway wall. “I learned the hard way in Savannah—my apartment got robbed once.”

Rock waited, wondering what he should do or say. He was uncomfortable now that he’d revealed some of his family secrets to Ana. But she didn’t seem to be holding that against him. Thinking it might be best if he just went on home, he said, “About those plans—I’ll come by first thing in the morning with some sketches and ideas. I think we can have your cabinets renovated and your pantry shelves built right on time.”

“Good,” she said as she automatically checked the phone sitting lonely and misplaced on the hallway floor. “Oh, I have a message. Do you mind if I check it?”

“Go ahead. I need to be going, anyway.”

He was about to leave, but she held up a hand while she waited for the recorder.

A feminine voice said, “Hi, Ana. It’s me. Listen, I really need your help. I have to do some extensive traveling this summer—we’re working on buying up a big spot of land near Atlanta for development. This just came up and I’m still trying to sell that land I own over near Savannah, so I was wondering if…well, I might need your help with the girls. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

Rock watched as Ana’s expression went from mild interest to a keen awareness. She seemed to stiffen, her eyes glazing over with what looked like dread. “Everything okay?” he asked, to break the silence that creaked through the old house.

Ana sighed, clicked the delete button on the message machine. “That was my sister, Tara,” she said. “I have a feeling I’m about to be hit up to baby-sit all summer.”

“And open a new business, too? That might be hard.”

“Tara doesn’t stop to think about things like that. She’s a workaholic—so she expects everyone else to be the same. The only problem is, since her husband died, she’s poured herself into her work even more, and now, I’m afraid she’s neglecting her three daughters.”

“Reminds me of my mother—and Stone, too,” Rock said before thinking. “Not that he’s married with children. But he works 24/7. Guess he did get a couple of my mother’s traits.”

“Maybe we should introduce Tara and him,” Ana said with a skeptical smile. Then she added, “Don’t get me wrong. Tara loves her girls. It’s just been…hard on all of us since Chad died. I don’t think Tara even realizes that the girls are still grieving, too. They are acting out in all sorts of ways, but she can’t seem to connect on why.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rock said, coming to lean on the wall opposite her. “But it sounds very familiar. Our mother at least understood…when our father died. She tried to comfort us, but then she got caught up in her work and we somehow learned to fend for ourselves most days. I don’t know, though, if a child ever gets over that kind of grief.”

Ana nodded. “That’s the way it’s been with the girls lately. All teenagers now, too.”

“Wow. And she’s going to pass them off on you?”

“I love them. And Tara doesn’t trust anyone else. My parents are at that age where they travel a lot, when they aren’t sick or volunteering. The girls can be a handful, so they can’t keep them for more than a few days at a time. And Chad’s parents live out in Texas—Ana won’t let the girls go that far away over the summer. She’s there with them now, for a short visit, but I doubt the girls will want to stay in Texas all summer. That leaves me, I guess.”

“And me,” Rock heard himself saying. “Listen, Ana, this is small island. Everyone knows everyone. We all watch out for each other. We can help with the girls.”

She looked up at him, awe sparkling in her green eyes. “You’d do that…for me?”

“Of course. Mother would love it, too, I’m sure. They can swim, run around the village, learn to make pottery. There’s lots to entertain teenagers here.”

“You haven’t met these three yet—they are eleven, thirteen and fourteen—going on thirty.”

Rock leaned forward, taking in the sight of Ana standing there in the semidarkness, her fiery hair wind-tossed, the scent of the ocean still surrounding her. “If they are anything like their aunt, I can’t wait to meet them.”

Ana moved away, ran a hand through her hair. “Well, I have to think long and hard about this, but not tonight. It’s getting late. And we have lots of work to do tomorrow.”

Rock followed her to the front door. “Back to business, right?”

“Yes, business is what brought me here. But I did enjoy dinner.”

“Even though I told you all about the Dempsey family dysfunctions?”

“Every family has dysfunctions, as you can see from my sister’s phone call.”

“Maybe so. But, Ana, I want you to understand. I love my mother and my brothers—they mean the world to me. And since becoming a minister, I’ve learned we can’t control other people. We can only control how we react to them, and we have to leave the rest in God’s hands.”

She glanced down at the phone. “It’s hard to do that.”

“Yes, it is. But we can do the next-best thing. We love them—unconditionally, sometimes with trepidation, sometimes with a bit of anger and resentment, but always, knowing that if family needs us, we have to come through.”

“Like me, with my sister? I should tell her yes, bring the girls to me?”

“If that’s what you want to do in your heart.”

“I love those three. I’ve always wanted children.”

“You might be the best thing for them right now. A good, positive role model.”

“Me?” She scoffed, shook her head. “I’m just their old-maid aunt who loves art and reading and cooking. I’m the plain sister, Rock, in case you haven’t figured that out yet.”

He leaned close again, one hand on the old brass doorknob. “Oh, I’ve figured out a lot of things about you, Ana. And I’m looking forward to working through the rest.”

He heard her sigh.

“The rest?”

“The rest of what makes Ana Hanson such an interesting, pretty woman.”

“Interesting and pretty describes my outgoing, dynamic sister, not me.”

“I don’t recall asking you about your sister. I’m only interested in getting to know you. And you are by no means plain.”

“Really, Rock, there’s not much to me.”

Rock reached up, pushed at a burnished curl clinging to her cheek. “There’s more than you know, Ana. Much more.”

Ana stepped back, away from his touch. “Remember, you were hired to work on restoring my cabinets, not me.”

Rock could tell she was scared, uncomfortable. He felt much the same way. And he still wasn’t sure where all of this might lead. “Fair enough,” he said. “But I’ve learned something about restoration over the years. Sometimes, if we keep polishing and pampering, we find true treasures underneath all the dirt and dust and neglect.”

“You’re talking in riddles again.”

“I’m telling it like it is,” he replied as he backed out the door. “You are a treasure, Ana. And somebody needs to show you that.”

She just smiled and said, “Thank you. You’re awfully sweet to try and make me feel better.”

Then she closed the door. Rock could hear the click of the lock, effectively shutting him out of her life for now.

“You should feel better,” he thought. “Someone needs to show you how special you are.” Rock decided that he was just the man for the job.