The Last Goodbye Page 2

  Not liking the endless spiral his mind was taking, he shoved himself away from the weathered railing and headed toward the door at the end of the long walkway. Quite a few people walked or jogged the streets, along with fishermen pulling carts of supplies behind as they headed toward the pier house.

  Dominic pushed through the door to the stairs on the other side, and a minute later, he entered the pier house behind one of the fishermen.

  Despite the early hour, a few kids and adults played billiards and video games in the far-right corner of the large building. Parlor tables like those in the inn’s office were scattered in the middle around a walk-up food-order area, and T-shirts and knickknack gifts were stacked floor to ceiling everywhere in between. On his left were more items for sale, and ahead of him was the checkout counter, which also doubled as an ice cream bar. Signs posted the prices for fishing from the pier, rules, and answers to what he assumed were all of the other frequently asked questions.

  Dominic made his way over to the food-order counter and got a breakfast burrito and coffee to go.

  "Hi."

  He turned and found Samuel staring up at him, looking bright-eyed and raring to go. "Hey. Figured you'd be sleeping in this morning."

  "Hey, Sammy. I have your order ready. Gimme a sec, okay, hon?" the waitress said as she bagged another order.

  "Okay."

  "Do you have big plans for the day?"

  "If it doesn't rain, we might go fishing later after church."

  "That sounds like fun."

  He shrugged and Dominic followed Samuel's gaze over to where the kids played the machines with their fathers. An uneasy feeling filled his gut, but Dominic shied away from asking the obvious. Samuel's father's whereabouts were none of Dominic's business.

  "Here you go, sir. Sorry about the wait."

  "No problem." He'd already paid and tipped the waitress. "I thought I might eat on the pier," he said to Samuel to draw the kid's attention away from the corner. "Any advice on the best seat?"

  "Nah. They're all good. Just keep your food covered up or the birds will try to get it."

  "Good advice."

  "Here you go, Sam. Enjoy. And tell your mama I said hi."

  "I will. Thank you, Miss Lori."

  "You're welcome, hon. Have fun."

  "I like eating on the pier the best, but my mom likes to eat on the swings,” he said, continuing their conversation.

  "I see. Well, maybe she'll surprise you today."

  Once again Samuel's gaze was on the kids in the far corner, and Dominic noted Sam made eye contact with one of them before Sam stepped back behind Dominic like he tried to hide. "Friends of yours?"

  "They go to my school. I gotta go."

  Samuel gripped his food bag and headed toward the entrance. Dominic stood there a long moment. The door to the pier was in the opposite direction of the one Samuel had taken, but maybe he should take a peek outside and make sure Samuel made it to his mom okay? The kid had seemed upset, but the reason why could be as varied as the items for sale in the pier house.

  His kids were grown. Hallie was eighteen and studying abroad for the summer. Elijah had just turned twenty and was presently working an internship at a law firm in New York. It was one of the things he was grateful for with Lisa's passing, that their children weren't small and he wasn't faced with raising them alone. It had been hard enough handling her passing with them as young adults, but they'd managed. Somehow.

  Which made him wonder… What had happened to Samuel's dad?

  Back outside, the call of the birds and sound of crashing waves added to the music coming from the pavilion nearby. While he'd been inside, several men had begun setting up chairs, a sound system, and instruments.

  Several feet outside of the entrance, Samuel stood, head down, food bag gripped tight in his hand. "You okay, buddy?"

  Samuel straightened his shoulders at the sound of Dominic's query and nodded, but the sniffle gave him away.

  "Yeah. My mom’s waiting for me. Bye."

  Dominic watched as Samuel walked away, feet dragging and looking as downcast as he had inside when he'd spotted his friends and their dads. Dominic tracked Samuel’s slow trek to where his mother sat, the sight tugging Dominic’s heartstrings until he gave in to the invisible push he felt shoving him in their direction.

  Chapter 4

  Ireland had a mouthful of omelet wrap when Dominic Dunn approached and asked to join them. Short of breaking her no-talking-with-your-mouth-full rule, which Samuel would no doubt point out, she simply nodded and waved a hand for Dominic to take a seat along the four-foot-high railings separating the boardwalk swings from the dunes.

  "Thanks."

  "You wanna go to church with us?"

  Dominic had barely taken a seat when Samuel posed that question, and she noticed that Dominic paused as though he fought the urge to get right back up. "Sorry. Ignore him. I mean, you're welcome to join us, of course, but please don't feel pressured. Samuel, eat your sandwich and leave Mr. Dunn alone."

  Samuel looked saddened by the order, and her heart broke a little more. She wasn't oblivious. She'd seen Sammy wipe his eyes after leaving the pier house, and it wasn't but a few seconds later when the Gibson brothers and their father and uncle left the interior of the building for the pier's T. It didn't take a genius to figure out her son was hurting, but she was powerless to help him. Not in the way he wanted and needed.

  Sammy craved male companionship, but with her dad on vacation and her sisters each single, Sammy was surrounded by females who tended to baby him instead of allowing him to be a boy, herself included.

  Samuel watched his peers on the pier, but every now and again, he'd manage to get a bite in and chew. He ate by rote but showed little interest in his breakfast, the corners of his mouth pulling hard toward the ground.

  "Thanks for the invitation but… I plan to check out once I take a quick look around."

  "But—"

  "But we understand, don't we, Samuel? After all, not many people go to church when on vacation. It's a beautiful day to explore, too."

  "I didn't get a chance to look at the information you put in the bag last night. Do you have suggestions?"

  "Well, there's Fort Fisher, the aquarium, and the beach, of course. Lots of little shops and restaurants here, and in Carolina Beach. Wilmington is full of things to do, too. Did you have something specific in mind?"

  "No. Not really."

  Because he was so not interested in being here, she mused. The good mood she'd gotten up with this morning quickly dissipated in the face of Samuel's upset and Dominic's sorrow due to his wife's passing.

  What would it be like to be loved like that? To be mourned like that? Dominic was young, in his early forties at most, but it was obvious he'd loved Lisa dearly and that… That kind of love was precious. And rare.

  Over the last couple of years, she'd learned the signs. Signs she hadn't been able to see in herself and Rich at the time, but recognized in so many of the couples who came and went from the inn. The detachment and distance forming because of life and busyness, the lack of communication, and how so many spent more time staring at their phones than interacting with their families.

  She plucked at the paper wrap around her sandwich, lost to memories of her own and wishing she could go back to bed and start the day over again.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, the music from the pavilion, crashing waves, and wind-carried voices filling the void.

  "Lisa told me about going to the beachside church service. Said she'd attended when she was here."

  Ireland was thankful for the dark sunglasses she wore because they allowed her to stare at Dominic's strong profile as he took in the preparations for the service. "She did."

  It was a memory Ireland would cherish of the woman who'd become her friend. She could close her eyes and picture Lisa standing in the pavilion, hands lifted, eyes closed, and head tilted back, singing praise even though she'd just received the worst news of h
er life.

  The memory brought a wave of sadness and clarity, creating a lump in her throat. Things might be difficult for her and Samuel but they could always be worse, and she needed to remember that.

  "Since I'm not planning to stay for the entire trip as she planned, maybe that's what I should do. Go in her honor."

  She wasn't sure if Dominic expected an answer from her or not, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she found her voice nonexistent thanks to the lump of emotion in her throat.

  "You should."

  "Samuel." After Dominic had disappeared from view with his suitcase, she'd gone in to check on Samuel and had a brief talk with her son about leaving Dominic alone due to his reasons for being there. In typical kid fashion, however, Samuel was of the opinion Dominic would want company rather than to be on vacation alone.

  Clearly a reminder was in order.

  Dominic laughed and shook his head as though thoroughly amused by Samuel rather than offended.

  "It's okay. And you said after church you were fishing, right?" Dominic asked Samuel.

  "Oh, I don't know—"

  "Mooom, it's Sunday. We always fish on Sunday."

  "Samuel," she said, her tone one of warning.

  "Well, we do."

  "Sometimes," she countered. "And sometimes we have to work in order to pay for the things that we want. Remember?"

  Samuel inhaled deeply and released a gusty sigh. "Mom says I gotta work at the inn and the coffee shop and my aunt Frankie’s garage if I want the new Mario game."

  "Ahh, that's a good rule. Your mom's right, buddy. My wife and I had a rule that if our kids asked for something that wasn't for a birthday or Christmas gift, they had to earn the money to get it. You value something more that way."

  "Is that still the rule since your wife died?"

  "Oh, my— Samuel. I am so sorry, Mr. Dunn—"

  "Call me Dominic. Please. And it's okay. It's a legitimate question, and, yes, it's still the rule. My daughter is a good example, actually. She wanted very badly to study abroad, but after a poor first semester her last year of high school because of her mom's death, she had to work extra hard to get her grades back up to qualify for the program, and get sponsors to help her go. Now she's there and really enjoying it."

  "Couldn't you have paid for her to go?"

  Dominic nodded. "I could have, and I did help quite a bit. But she was responsible for her grades, and that was the most important thing to attend to, so… she had to do her part if she wanted to go with her friends. You’ll find that once you do your part, the other things tend to fall into place."

  "Finish your breakfast, Samuel. It's almost time," she said, wadding up the paper wrapper from her sandwich and tossing it into the bag.

  "So do you mind? If I join you for church?"

  She was startled by the question, maybe a little more than she ought to be. "Not at all. It's come as you are. Everyone is welcome."

  "Even dogs," Samuel said.

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. There used to be a dog who prayed."

  "Um, Samuel, maybe—"

  "But she died."

  Ireland winced.

  "I see," Dominic murmured. "Well, I hate to hear that."

  Samuel nodded. "Yeah. It was sad. I'm sorry your wife died."

  "Thank you, Samuel. I appreciate you saying that."

  "Sammy, baby, it's time to finish up and let Mr. Dunn eat, okay?"

  "Okay. But… if I promise to get my work done later, before I go to bed, maybe Mr. Dunn could take me fishing? Please?”

  Ireland was in the process of taking a drink of her coffee when Samuel posed the question. She swallowed wrong with the shock of it and coughed repeatedly, the swing where she sat shaking with her movements.

  "You okay?"

  Eyes watering, she waved a hand in front of her face but couldn't get a decent breath. "Samuel." Cough. "I'm sure—" Cough. "Mr. Dunn is—" Cough, cough, cough. "Busy," she finished with a gasp.

  "Oh."

  "It's true, Samuel. If I'm going home, I need to get on the road as soon as the service is over."

  "But you said you were gonna look around. Can't you stay a little longer? Grandpa usually takes me but he's gone, and Mom sucks at it. Please?"

  Ireland sounded like a barking seal and people stared at her as they passed.

  Dominic stood and gently pounded on her back. "Are you okay?" he asked her again.

  As though finally realizing she sat there and literally struggled to breathe, Samuel's attention focused on her. "Mom?"

  She managed to get herself under control and removed her sunglasses to wipe the tears from her eyes, unable to do more than nod. Of all things for Samuel to do. Hadn't her talk with him last night done any good?

  "Samuel, take this and go buy your mom some water."

  "No. No, I'm fine. Really." She coughed some more, trying hard to stop but unable to completely. "I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. A-hem. Hmm-mmm." She had to clear her throat a few more times, but thankfully her eyes had stopped watering, allowing her to replace the sunglasses and put some distance between her and Dominic's compelling gaze. "Wrong pipe," she said.

  "So can we go fishing after church? Just for a little while? Please, Mom? Please, Mr. Dunn?"

  Dominic glanced at Samuel before turning his head toward the pavilion and then back at her.

  "If your mom says it's okay, it's fine with me.” To her, Dominic said, "Actually, fishing was one of the things Lisa suggested I do while I'm here so… I’d love to join you. That is, if you don’t mind me tagging along?"

  Chapter 5

  An hour after the church service, Dominic stared over the railing of the pier at the sunlight glistening off of the water, the minister's sermon on forgiveness spiraling through his head once again.

  He'd done all he could to help and support Lisa, care for her, but he couldn't deny there was a part of himself that would always wonder if there wasn't something more that could've been done. If he could've found another doctor, another treatment. Just… more.

  "I'm sorry Samuel guilted you into changing your plans."

  Ireland's low murmur got carried away on the wind, and he turned to see her focused on the waves down below them. Samuel stood a few feet away, jerking his line and reeling it in yet again in typical impatient-kid fashion. "It's okay. I apologize for changing my plans again. I hope it doesn't mess with your reservations."

  "Not at all. You've got the suite for the next two weeks. It's yours whether you stay or go. Lisa wanted to make sure, if you changed your mind, that you could come back to it."

  Why? Why had Lisa done that? The car? The trip? What was the point? "Did she say anything to you? When she set this up? Tell you why?"

  They'd returned to the inn long enough to get fishing supplies, hats, and sunscreen, and now Ireland's long auburn hair draped over her shoulder in a thick braid. She wore a tank top and shorts with a turquoise ball cap that read Mermaid Hair Don't Care and the same pair of sunglasses from earlier that hid her eyes from him.

  "Not really. I remember her saying she knew you'd mourn. And she wanted to do something to help."

  "That's all she said?"

  "I mean, I have my own theories b—"

  "Which are?"

  She faced the water, head tilted to one side. "A lot of times, people come here when they feel… lost. I mean, it is land's end, like the sign back there says. So, they stare at the ocean and… something about the sounds and the smells seem to help people come to terms with whatever it is that's happened and, after a while, find acceptance."

  Acceptance. Not healing. Lisa had returned from the trip calmer than before she'd gone. She didn't cry as much or as often, smiled more. Seemed happy despite the fact her body was slowly killing her.

  He wasn't sure anything could ever give him acceptance for that. "You said you and your sisters are named for where you were conceived. And your parents and at least one sister are around, f
rom what I've gleaned from conversation. Have you always lived here with them once your father returned stateside or…?"

  She inhaled and braced her flip-flopped feet on the lower rung of the railing. "Sort of. I moved away after I got married, but Sammy and I moved back two years ago…after my ex and I divorced."

  "I see. I'm sorry about that."

  "Me, too."

  "You didn't want a divorce?"

  "Not in the beginning. I fought it with every breath. But when it became obvious staying together just wasn't an option anymore, I"—a huff of a laugh left her chest—"came to the beach to stare at the ocean and wound up returning to stay."

  "Can't beat the view."

  "Got that right. There's just something about it, isn't there?"

  He'd never thought of the ocean or beach as anything more than a vacation destination, but sitting there for the last hour listening to the waves and birds and laughter of vacationers… Well, it was nice. Even though he was alone.

  Lisa had forced this trip on him because she'd known he wouldn't go anywhere other than on business trips, where he'd stay in his room and work after getting back from meetings or workshops. But in her letter, she'd mentioned wanting him to remember the years before responsibilities and long hours had overtaken his leisure time. Remember when he'd fished and driven a fast car and enjoyed the simple things in life.

  He shifted on the backless bench and leaned forward, coming to terms with his thoughts and the gift Lisa had bestowed.

  Life. Her letter had reminded him that he was living for them both now.

  "Sorry. Sammy never lasts very long out here when it's just me, so I stopped carting the chairs and drinks and all of the stuff people usually bring. I should've taken into consideration the fact there's another guy here. I'll make a run into the pier house and get us something to drink."

  She plopped her feet down onto the wood planks of the pier, but before she stood, he asked, "Where's Samuel's dad?"