Chasing Sunsets Part 8

"Well, that's true." I sighed. "Okay, let me get a few things. I left Max in the car with the windows cracked, but it's still too hot out there."

"You do that. I'll call my friend and let you know something."

I gave Maddie my cell number with appreciation for her help, got my groceries, and then returned to the register. Scanning the items, Maddie asked me, "Will you be going down to see the sunset tonight?"

"I've thought about it." I didn't have to ask where. I knew where the locals gathered; the place my mother and I used to go . . .

"You should. Days like today the sunsets are always so pretty."

"Will you be there?" I asked, helping by bagging my groceries.

"Sure will. I think my friend might be there too."

I looped my hands through the handles of the plastic bags. "That would be wonderful. I'll see you there."

I pulled the sheets off all the furniture in the house, going room by room, neatly folding the coverings and making a stack of them on the round wicker and gla.s.s dining room table. Max had gone exploring and promised to be back before supper. When I was done with my task, I sent a text to Chase, who texted right back. Yes, they were fine. Dad was behaving. So far. I told him I missed them both and to give Cody a hug for me. He said he would.

Max was not home in time for supper. I stood on the deck outside the door and called for him. When he didn't return, I went back inside, slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops, and went out to search. It didn't take long to find him. He was next door, having made friends with the neighbor's cat.

"I'm afraid they don't know they're natural enemies," the lady of the house said to me from an open window. Her house, like Dad's, was raised. Two cars were parked under the flooring of the house, and a wooden staircase led to the front door.

I shielded my eyes with my hand and said, "No, I don't suppose they do."

"Hold on a sec there and I'll be right down."

I waited until the door opened. The woman stepping out onto the front deck was much older-probably in her late seventies-thin and humped at the shoulders. Her hair-silvery gray-was pulled straight back, braided, and then wrapped in a bun at the nape of her neck. It wasn't difficult to see how beautiful she had been as a young woman.

She wore slacks and a long-sleeved shirt with a light sweater, in spite of the heat. I felt bad that she should have to come all the way down the stairs, but she beat me to the bottom step before I was able to cover the distance.

"I take it you are Ross and Anise's daughter," she said.

She extended a hand and I took it. It was-of all things-cold; the skin was as delicate as an onion's. For a moment I thought not to correct her, but then said, "Actually, I'm Ross's daughter, Kimberly. My mother pa.s.sed away in '99."

A glimpse of empathy crossed her wrinkled face and then vanished. "Darlin', I didn't realize."

"That's okay," I said.

"I love your daddy and your stepmother. They are two precious people."

I nodded, then added, "I'm sorry. I don't remember you."

"No. I moved here permanently about-oh, I don't know-five years ago. Used to come here for vacations and such. Then, just after my beloved pa.s.sed on into glory, I decided to make Cedar Key my home."

It was my turn to express my sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. I mean, about your husband."

"You married, darlin'?"

"No. Divorced. Two boys."

Her eyes sparkled. "I had three of my own. Three boys, two girls. Lost one son and one of my girls . . . but the Lord is good."

I blinked, not knowing exactly what I should say. Finally, I said, "I didn't get your name."

The woman laughed then and said, "I didn't give it, now did I? I'm Patsy."

"Nice to meet you, Patsy."

She took my hand, this time, I knew, for support. "I tell you what. Since your dog and my cat are still visiting, why don't you come in and have a bite of some supper with me."

"I certainly wouldn't want-"

"Wouldn't want what, hon? To be a bother?"

"Surely you weren't expecting anyone . . ."

"Never." Her voice was laced with poignancy. "But there's always hope."

"I have Max's food poured in his dish."

We turned to look where my dog and her cat were rolling in the gra.s.s together. "Clearly he's starving," she quipped.

I continued to hold her hand as she led me toward the stairs.

"Did you already have your supper planned?"

"I honestly hadn't thought about it." We were at the door. I turned back to where Max and the cat were now looking up at their owners. "By the way, what's your cat's name?"

"Oreo," she said. "See that milk mustache?"

Oreo-who looked as if he had dressed for the black-white ball-yawned at us. "We apparently bore him to tears," I said.

"He's my buddy," she said, then patted my hand. "And he's faithful." Patsy opened the door to her home and shuffled in. "Like the Lord."

I followed behind her, saying nothing.

The home was decorated with simple beach-style furniture and the occasional antique piece, perhaps-I wondered-from her years of being a wife and mother. The only wall hangings were portraits of those I a.s.sumed to be family members, some born before Patsy and some after.

"I made a ca.s.serole," she said as I closed the door. "Do you like ca.s.serole?"

"I suppose it depends on what's in it."

Patsy chuckled, but she didn't answer. While she moved gingerly in the direction of what I a.s.sumed was the kitchen, I stepped over to an antique Bombay table decorated only by small framed photos. "Are these some of your family members?"

"I would a.s.sume so. Can't see displaying the faces of folks I don't know."

From anyone else, the words would have seemed sarcastic, but not from Patsy. Her words didn't bite, they nibbled. "You'll have to tell me who they are," I said. I picked up a three-by-five of a well-put-together couple with their two picture-perfect children sitting in front of them. They all wore blue denim jeans with pressed white shirts.

"That's my granddaughter," Patsy said as she came up beside me. She pointed to the young woman. "Lauren. And her husband Brandon. Their kids." She tapped the gla.s.s behind which two cherub faces smiled for the camera. "Their names will come to me sooner or later." She chuckled then shuffled back toward the kitchen.

"Where do they live?" I asked.

"California."

"That's a long way away." I followed behind her. "Can I help you with anything?"

Patsy's kitchen was decorated in peach and sea foam green. The window over the sink had neither valance nor blinds, and the late afternoon sunshine crept in. The view of the marshes was calming; the bright greens of midafternoon had changed to deep.

"Plates are up there in the cabinet. Why don't you set the table over in the corner there?"

A table big enough for two was pushed against a wall in the corner. I moved about in the room as though I knew it well, finding plates, napkins, and forks. Patsy had some sweet iced tea in the refrigerator; I poured two tumblers full and placed them on the table. A few minutes later we were eating tuna ca.s.serole in silence.

Finally I said, "So you had five children?"

"I did. Thirteen grandchildren, and a whole pile of great-grans." She c.o.c.ked her head to one side. "It's something else, clearly it is . . . seeing one generation come in, then another, and another."

I smiled.

"What about you? Two, you said?"

"Two. Both boys. Chase and Cody."

"Do you work? Outside the home, I mean?"

"I'm a teacher."

"G.o.d bless you. I wouldn't want to be a teacher in this day and time."

"It's a challenge."

Patsy shoved another spoonful of tuna and noodles and green peas between moist lips. "I never worked outside of the home. Goodness knows inside kept me plenty busy."

"Do you get to see your family often?"

"Not often enough."

"Where are you from, Patsy?"

"South Carolina. You?"

"Orlando."

"I moved down here about five years ago, but I said that now, didn't I? Sold the old house and bought this house from the people who'd lived here for quite a number of years. Those are the neighbors you probably remember."

I nodded. "Probably."

"How long has your daddy owned the house next door?"

I took a sip of tea. "Since before I was born. The first time I can remember being here, I think I was . . . maybe five."

"Summers mostly?"

"And holidays. Some weekends. As we girls got older, it got harder to get away . . . what with so many school activities going on."

"I remember those days."

I looked at my watch. "Patsy, let me help you clean up. I want to make sure I get down to see the sunset tonight." I gathered together my plate, fork, and tumbler.

"We have some pretty ones, don't we?" Patsy remained seated.

"Would you like to go with me?" I asked from the sink. I turned on the water and rinsed my plate.

Patsy didn't answer right away. I looked over my shoulder. She appeared to be pondering the suggestion. Oddly, even though we'd just met, I kind of hoped she'd say that she'd like to go. Finally, she said, "You know, I think I will."

I smiled. "Wonderful." I returned to the table to clear away the rest of the dishes. "Patsy, what time do you think sunset will be?"

"Lately it's been around 9:00." Patsy drew herself up from the table, then held on to the side for a moment.

"Are you all right?"

Watery eyes met mine. "Fine. Just getting old."

I finished the dishes with Patsy beside me and then told her I'd be back to get her at 7:45. When I went outside, I found Max sitting at the foot of the stairs and Oreo nowhere in sight.

"Come on, Max," I said. "Let's get you fed."

Max panted as he looked up at me. I patted his golden head and said, "Looks like you and I have made two unlikely friends, eh?"

Max barked his agreement.

10.

Summer 1987 The aroma of cocoa mixed with the humidity already thick in the air. Night's clouds had taken flight; a remaining few stood guard over the bay. Close to the dock they were dark gray. Nearer to the horizon they were soft shades of white and gold. Directly above Dog Island was a deep stretch of dark blue centered with shades of pink.

The sun was rising.

Between Steven and me lay a paper plate filled with sticky buns, a covered Tupperware bowl of homemade granola, and two small containers of yogurt. Between sips of cocoa and kisses, we nibbled on the breakfast Steven's mother had prepared for us the night before.

"Here it comes," I whispered, raising my camera slowly as though it might startle the sun away.

"We still have a while to go," Steven said.

The sun could stay below the horizon forever as far as I was concerned. The longer it took it to rise, the longer I could sit on this dock with the boy I loved.