Between Rains, page 8
His dad huffed. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know, but it’s not as bad as you think. I don’t want your mother getting upset. Understand?”
“But, Pop. I think—”
His dad scowled and tossed his remaining coffee over the rail. “You heard me.”
Suddenly, the boat engine slowed, signaling Captain Hardy had found a school of fish on his sonar equipment.
The door to the cabin flung open, and out poured his nephews. They ran forward. “Boys, slow down,” Leila called out after them. “You were told. You need to stay close to me.”
Wes shoved the remaining bite of a maple bar into his mouth. “Don’t run,” he warned, with his mouth full.
While the deckhand passed out baited rods to everyone, Allie moved to the handheld microphone, broadcasting her voice. “So, you all know the drill. When you get a bite, yell, ‘fish on!’ That will signal Captain Paul to cut the engine so we can get the nets and haul in your catch.”
Everyone nodded that they understood. Wylie and Grace moved to the starboard side and stood a few feet from each other. They cast out before Pop’s arm found its way around his wife’s shoulders, pulling her close for warmth. Wes, Leila and the boys were at the rear of the boat. Rhett positioned himself on the port side of the vessel. Jared joined him.
“So, what were you and Pop in such deep discussion about?” Jared asked, not even waiting until he had his line in the water.
The boat gently rose and fell with the swells. Rhett clicked his reel and drew his line taut. “Not sure I know what you mean?”
Jared swung his rod over the water, watched as the bait made a splash on the surface. “You and Pop. You were talking.”
Rhett grew immediately aggravated. He wanted to tell his little brother to butt out. He was not obligated to share every discussion he had with his parents, and especially anything he talked over with Pop. Still, there was a fine line between being assertive and being a jerk. “You must have a reason for asking,” he answered, diverting from a real response. He paused, scanned the horizon. “Look, okay…allow me to just put the cards on the table here. I told Pop I’d made an appointment for him to see Dr. Michaels at the Brain Institute at OHSU in Portland.”
There, his intentions were out in the open. Jared would have no choice but to deal with it.
“I see.”
Rhett steeled himself against what he knew was coming. Several seconds passed before Jared finally added, “Look, I know you love Pop. We all do. But aren’t you moving a little too fast on all this?”
Rhett breathed in slowly, surprised Jared had not erupted in anger. Taking the opening, he explained everything he’d read, the risks of waiting to properly diagnose and treat what he strongly suspected his dad was dealing with. “I know you and Mom may not agree with what I’ve done, but I’m asking you to trust me on this.”
A look of resignation crossed his brother’s face. They both knew there was little to no opportunity to change Rhett’s mind and the course he’d set out. “All I ask is that you stop and consider their wishes,” Jared told him. “It really is Mom and Dad’s decision how to proceed.”
“I know that,” Rhett argued. “We both know denial can be at play, and sticking heads in the sand is not doing Pop any good. Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can develop a plan and execute it. We’ll all know what to expect. The unknown is always much scarier.” He paused, then decided to make his position absolutely clear. “I made an appointment, and I’m taking Pop to Portland.”
Jared’s pole suddenly dipped, signaling he had a bite. “Fish on,” he called out.
The engine cut, and the boat drifted to a stop as Jared reeled in his catch. Levi and Billy ran to join them. As Jared pulled in a nice-sized red snapper, the two younger boys both jumped up and down with excitement.
Billy scrambled for the wooden club, held out an open arm to keep his younger brother from getting any closer. “Stand back. I’ll do it,” he claimed, as his uncle placed the flopping fish inside the basket.
Levi’s face fell with disappointment. “That’s not fair! Who made you the boss of everything?”
Billy grabbed the club, raised it in the air. “Because I’m the oldest, and I know how better than you. That’s why.”
Then, he bent and whacked the fish on the head.
12
That evening, after dinner, Rhett realized he’d had enough family time for a while. He needed to get away and be alone, to think and get his head on straight. The tension was getting to him. He highly suspected Jared had cornered their mom and tattled on him, enlightened her to Rhett’s plans. The signs were subtle but clearly there. It seemed she might be avoiding him and never looking him in the eye.
“I’ll be out for a while tonight. Don’t wait up,” he told her at the sink. He leaned in and brushed a quick kiss against her soft cheek. She didn’t answer. Instead, she simply brushed the hair away from her face with her forearm and nodded.
Upstairs, he slipped into his favorite pair of Air Jordans and pulled on a worn hoodie. He grabbed his cell, tucked it in his jean’s pocket, and headed for the stairs. In his rental, he turned on the radio, hoping to lose himself in his favorite local station broadcast out of Salem, a station that played hits from his high school years non-stop after closing out the six o’clock news.
High school seemed like a long time ago. A time when things were much simpler. A time when he didn’t feel pulled between his career and family obligations. A time when he wasn’t letting people down and seen as the enemy simply because he wanted what was best for his dad.
After driving a short distance past the center of town, Rhett turned from the main highway onto a narrow, winding road that led to a secluded area of the beach and parked. He pulled the strings on his hoodie to tighten the fabric around his neck as protection against the evening chill before he cut the engine. A run would do him some good.
“Man, just look at that,” he muttered as he stepped from the truck, appreciating the view that never got old. While he loved running along Lakefront Trail in Chicago, the waterfront views couldn’t begin to compare to Oregon’s coastline and its rugged rock outcroppings, the Pacific Bay Bridge spanning the inlet and the lighthouse out on the point jutting into the sky, a beacon of familiarity.
Rhett loved Pacific Bay at this hour, right before the sky started to darken and when ocean breezes grew still and the water’s surface calmed, especially at low tide—when waves edged with foam crept onshore and slowly retreated in rhythm, leaving unbroken sand dollars littering the hard-packed sand.
His favorite running spot was a stretch of beach that ran north from the lighthouse along a rocky coastline lined with homes offering million-dollar views. In the distance, he could see the Bayfront Restaurant, a favorite eating establishment perched on a cliff located at the end of a promontory overlooking the ocean.
For a brief moment, he was jealous of his buddies who lived in Pacific Bay, the ones who graduated and had stayed, embracing the familiar and who had continued making the tiny coastal town their home.
Rhett loved the city, the bustle and towering office buildings, the museums, the parties and nightlife, baseball and the great hot dogs. He loved it all. Certainly, he’d accomplished amazing things in his profession, but moving to Chicago had definitely been a tradeoff. In the short time he’d been home, he was beginning to realize the distance he felt from this place and from his family and friends could not simply be measured in miles.
Rhett squared his shoulders and set out, jogging down an incline lined with sea grass until his feet hit the wide spans of wet sand. From the look of things, the tides were just now beginning to change.
Grace sat on the edge of the quilted bed, watching Wylie unbuttoning his shirt. “What’s the matter, Wyatt? You look troubled.”
Wylie tossed his shirt over the back of the rocking chair. “Rhett knows,” he told her, running his hand over his balding head.
Grace drew a deep breath, hating the expression she saw on her husband’s face. “We knew it was only a matter of time, sweetheart.” She reached for her brush, then ran it through her cropped curls.
“Here, let me.” Wylie stepped close, took the brush from her hand and used it to stroke her hair. “He’s made me an appointment to see a specialist—in Portland.”
Grace closed her eyes, not entirely surprised at the news but wishing their oldest son would just let things be. “When?”
Wylie leaned and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “Later this week.”
Grace turned. “Did you tell him we’d already talked to doctors?”
He nodded. “Of course. Rhett wasn’t going to be satisfied with that. You know our boy.”
Tears welled. “Yes, I know our boy. Why can’t he just back off for once, let us protect him from—well, from all this. Specialists disagree on so much and if you go looking, you can always find someone willing to sing doom and gloom.” She rubbed at her forehead. “He’ll somehow take all this on as his own, you know.”
Wylie slowly nodded. “Yup. He’s wired that way.”
“Rhett’s going to believe the worst. He’ll have you completely demented and sitting in a chair staring at the wall.” She grabbed her husband’s work-calloused hand. “We don’t know what is ahead exactly, but Wylie—we both agreed, right? We’re not going to borrow trouble. You heard what Dr. Cannon said. We all get forgetful as we age.”
Wylie looked at her with that understanding only he had. His fingers stroked her hair. “Ah, that’s what I love about you, darlin’. In a pile of dung, you always look for the pony.”
They both knew Wylie’s more realistic assessment would likely be more accurate. Dr. Cannon had warned that Alzheimer’s disease was progressive. If Wylie’s case was confirmed, his cognitive state would eventually decline. They’d agreed the key was not to give in to a grim prognosis.
In light of that, they’d decided not to go forward with further testing. “Let’s just let this play out, Wylie. Please?” she’d begged. “Take the medications, but I don’t want to know the worst-case scenario. All that will do is rob of our hope, our joy.”
He loved her and had consented to her wishes.
Thankfully, both Jared and Leila had not pressed the issue. There was an unspoken agreement to pause, an agreement to allow them all to adjust until circumstances no longer allowed them to simply live in the moment.
Now, Rhett was home and aware. Unlike his siblings, he would never let this go, no matter their desire or wishes to take things slow. Free-falling simply wasn’t in their oldest son’s nature.
Grace turned and took her husband’s chin in her fingers. She searched his eyes before letting her hands drop back into her lap. “You gave in.”
He slowly nodded, took her hands in his own. “It will be all right, sweetheart. No matter what. We’re in this together, and I’ll never let you go.”
She laid her head against his shoulder, wanting beyond anything to believe what he said was true. Yet, deep inside, she had to acknowledge that her dear Wylie may not have a say in the situation. If he indeed had Alzheimer’s, no amount of steel resolve would matter. He would leave her…eventually.
Rhett finished a quarter-mile sprint, no longer jogging but running at full speed. He slowed to a stop and bent over to catch his breath. Salty air stung his lungs as his chest heaved. When his breaths became more normal, he lifted again.
Down the beach, in the distance, a woman with long blonde hair threw a stick for a large black-and-white dog. She waited for the long-legged canine to chase and bring it back, then bent and retrieved the stick and repeated the process. She wore jeans and a red rain slicker. He walked her way and gave a little wave in her direction. That’s when he realized the woman was Diane Jeffers. What was her married name again? He couldn’t remember.
“Hey, Rhett,” she called out, waving back.
He jogged up to her. “Great dog.”
Diane let out a laugh. “Well, I don’t know about how great he is, but he’s loved.”
Rhett bent to pet the dog’s head. “What breed?”
“Mutt—pure mutt.” She clipped a leash on his collar. “His name is Dill, as in pickle. My daughter named him.”
Rhett’s eyebrows lifted. “Unusual, but I like it.” He let his gaze meet hers. “She sounds like she has a sense of humor,” he offered. “Your daughter.”
“Well, maybe,” Diane admitted. “More like she refuses to live within any boundaries.”
“Not a bad thing,” Rhett suggested.
“So, you going for a run?” She flushed a little. “That’s obvious, I suppose. What I mean is, do you come out often? Thanks to Dill’s need to expend unending energy, I’m here on the beach frequently, and I haven’t seen you on this stretch before.”
Rhett walked alongside her. “Yeah, I’m a runner. Unfortunately, I haven’t found the time to jog the beach since arriving. Tonight, I just needed to clear my head a bit. Nothing like running on packed sand and listening to surf to help square up your mind.”
Diane’s eyes filled with laughter. “Ah, yes. I know that one. Needing to square up, I mean.”
He found her honesty refreshing. Most people he knew had a hard time admitting any level of struggle. He certainly wasn’t accustomed to letting on that he didn’t have it all together.
“Hey, you up for a drink?” Rhett pointed to the lights from Bayfront Restaurant up on the cliff above.
She stared at him for a few seconds, shrugged. “Well, I’d have to drop the dog off at my mom’s. She doesn’t live far.” Her face broke into a slight smile. “Sure, why not. Instead, I’m going to extend that invitation to dinner. I haven’t eaten yet, and I’m starving.”
“Sounds great!” He’d already eaten, but he was up for a bowl of clam chowder. “Now, you’re not going to go and change or anything. Right? Because, well—I’m in my running clothes.”
She quickly shook her head. “Nope. These days, what you see is what you get with me.”
He smiled at that. All the more reason to like her.
They parted, promising to meet each other at the restaurant in twenty minutes. Rhett wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten to know Diane more when they were in high school. What he remembered about her was that she was really nice but kept to herself, for the most part. In fact, he’d had a bit of a crush on her. Right after school, she was gone. At the time, no one really knew where she’d moved. She was smart, so he’d figured she took off for college somewhere.
He heard she rarely made visits home. Last year, he was surprised to see her on television and learned her husband was making a senatorial run and had fallen into a scandal by having an affair with someone from his staff. Cam and Ben said she’d moved back home in the aftermath. He also learned she had a daughter and that Craig Anthony was the father. Obviously, there was a story there. Unlike his buddies, he wasn’t one to dig into other people’s business. He had enough to worry about without scooping other people’s troubles onto his plate.
The Bayfront Restaurant had long been one of his favorites in Pacific Bay. Few places could boast casual dining in such an elegant setting. Well, elegant for a tiny coastal town. What made the place so spectacular were the panoramic views of the ocean. The establishment was known for tiny tables tucked in around large glass windows overlooking the surf below and providing magazine-quality images of the sunset. The food was superb and featured the catch of the day—fresh fish brought in off the boats daily. The clam chowder was served in large ceramic bowls and was thick as gravy, served with a full pat of butter melting on top. The staff was friendly and the drinks generous. His kind of place.
“Hey, Henson!” Rhett said, greeting the proprietor as he entered the restaurant.
“Well, Rhett Duvall. It’s been a while,” he said, shaking Rhett’s extended hand, then leaning in for a hug and patting him on the back with gusto. “How long you back in town for? Sorry I couldn’t make your dad’s party. This place, well—she’s like a woman about to give birth, always requires my full attention.” Henson looked him over. “You never change. Look like the same kid who ran that football down the field.” He glanced over Rhett’s shoulder. “You alone?”
“I’m meeting someone. Diane Jeffers.”
The old man nodded. “Ah, yes. Another sheep returned home to the fold. Can’t say as I blame anyone for finding their way back to Pacific Bay, no matter what the reason. Home is where the heart is—and few leave the place and take their heart with them.”
Rhett was beginning to agree to some degree.
“Let’s seat you and Diane over here.” Henson pointed to a little table located in a private cove. Like the rest, the table had a flickering candle centered on top of a white linen tablecloth.
“The table’s great. Thanks.” It dawned on him Henson may have misunderstood and thought he had Diane were on a date. “I ran into Diane down on the beach and asked her to join me for a drink. Just to catch up. We’re old friends,” he clarified, knowing how rumors got started in this town. He’d be leaving eventually, but Diane had to live here and wrestle the gossip mill.
Henson’s bushy brows rose slightly. “Of course.” With a twinkle in his watery blue eyes, he winked and left Rhett standing by the table.
When seated, Rhett pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. No messages. No calls. No texts.
He sighed and slid it back in his pocket, holding back the strange feeling. He’d never before felt like he was dangling at the end of a rope no one was holding. A secret part of him wished that Phil Stengel would botch everything, that Judith would call and admit she’d been hasty in pulling Rhett from the Markowitz deal. He checked his phone regularly, just in case. He imagined just how the conversation would go.
“You were right,” Judith would have to admit. “We need you. I’ve been forced to reconsider. Please return to the account. We’ll work with you. Zoom calls, if necessary. Just come back and help bring this one in.”
