“Yeah?”
“I guess I’m just into the whole marriage and family thing. I mean, I enjoy my job, but that’s not what life is about for me. I can remember when my sister had her first baby, and she let me hold her, and I just…melted. Like I knew my purpose in life. But then again, I’ve always felt that way.” Her eyes glowed. “When I was a little girl, I used to walk around with a sofa cushion stuffed under my shirt, pretending I was pregnant.” She laughed at the memory. “I’ve always pictured myself as a mother…somehow, the idea of growing a person within you, bringing it into the world and loving it with a kind of primal intensity feels…profound to me. I don’t get to church that often anymore, but my feelings about this are as close to spiritual as I get, I suppose.”
He watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as though trying to push away a painful truth, her vulnerability making him long to put his arms around her.
“But then, things don’t always work out the way that we imagine they will, do they?” The question was rhetorical, so he didn’t answer. After a few steps, Hope went on. “I know that life isn’t fair, and I’ve heard that old saying about how man plans and God laughs, but I never expected to be single at my age. It’s like my life is on hold somehow. It seemed like everything was on track. I’d met this wonderful man, we were making plans, and then…nothing. We’re exactly where we were six years ago. We don’t live together, we’re not married or even engaged. We’re just dating.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. You probably have no interest in hearing about any of this.”
“That’s not true.”
“Why would you care?”
Because I care about you, he thought. Instead, he said: “Because sometimes, all a person needs is for someone else to listen.”
She seemed to contemplate that as they walked through the sand. Scottie was far ahead, already past the pier, chasing one flock of birds after another, as energetic as always.
“I probably shouldn’t have said anything,” she remarked with a defeated shrug. “I’m just disappointed in Josh right now and it makes me wonder what the future holds for us. Or even if there’s going to be a future. But that’s just my anger talking. If you’d asked me when things were good between us, I’d have gone on and on about how wonderful he is.”
When she trailed off, Tru glanced over at her. “Do you know if he wants to be married? Or have kids?”
“That’s the thing…he says he does. Or he used to, anyway. We haven’t talked about it much recently, and when I finally tried to bring it up again, the discussion went south real fast. That’s why he’s not here. Because we ended up in this huge argument, and now instead of coming to the wedding with me, he’s in Las Vegas with his buddies.”
Tru winced. Even in Zimbabwe, people knew about Las Vegas. Meanwhile, Hope continued. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s me. I probably could have handled it better, and I know I’m making him sound completely selfish. But he isn’t. It’s just, sometimes, I think he hasn’t finished growing up yet.”
“How old is he?”
“Almost forty. How old are you, by the way?”
“Forty-two.”
“When did you finally feel like an adult?”
“When I was eighteen and left the farm.”
“That doesn’t come as a shock. With all you went through, you had no choice but to grow up.”
By then they’d reached the pier, and Tru noticed that many of the pilings were no longer submerged. Low tide, just as she’d told him.
“What do you intend to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Right now, I’m guessing that in the end, we’ll get back together and try to pick up from where we left off.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I love him,” she conceded. “And he loves me. I know he’s being a bit of a jerk right now, but most of the time, he’s…really great.”
Though he’d expected the words, there was part of him that wished she hadn’t said them. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because,” he responded, “you’ve chosen to stay with him for six years. And from what I know about you, you would never have done so unless he had numerous admirable traits.”
She stopped to pick up a colorful seashell, but it turned out to be broken. “I like the way you phrase things. You often sound very British. I’ve never heard anyone described as having ‘numerous admirable traits.’ ”
“That’s a pity.”
She tossed the shell aside and laughed. “You want to know what I think?”
“What’s that?”
“I think Kim might have made a mistake by letting you go.”
“That’s kind of you to say. But she didn’t. I’m not sure I was ever cut out to be a husband.”
“Does that mean you’ll never get married again?”
“I haven’t given the matter any thought. Between work and spending time with Andrew, meeting someone is rather low on my list of priorities.”
“What are the women like in Zimbabwe?”
“In my world, you mean? Single women?”
“Sure.”
“Few and far between. Most of the women I meet are already married and they’re at the lodge with their husbands.”
“Maybe you should move to another country.”
“Zimbabwe is my home. And Andrew is there. I could never leave him.”
“No,” she said. “You can’t.”
“How about you? Have you ever considered moving from the United States?”
“Never,” she said. “And it’s certainly not possible now, since my dad is sick. But even in the future, I’m not sure that I could. My family’s here, my friends are here. But I do hope to make it to Africa one day. And go on safari.”
“If you do, keep your guard up around the guides. Some of them can be extremely charming.”
“Yeah, I know.” She playfully nudged his shoulder with hers. “Are you ready for Kindred Spirit?”
“I still don’t know what it is.”
“It’s a mailbox on the beach,” she said.
“To whom does the mailbox belong?”
She shrugged. “To anyone, I guess. And everyone.”
“Am I supposed to write a letter?”
“If you’d like,” she said. “The first time I went, I did.”
“When was that?”
She considered the question. “Maybe five years ago?”
“I assumed you’d been going there since you were young.”
“It hasn’t been around that long. I think my dad told me that it went up in 1983, but I could be wrong about that. I’ve only been there a few times. Including the day after Christmas last year, which was kind of crazy.”
“Why?”
“Because it snowed fifteen inches. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen snow on the beach. When we returned home, we built a snowman near the steps. I think there’s a photo of it in the cottage somewhere.”
“I’ve never seen snow.”
“Ever?”
“It doesn’t snow in Zimbabwe, and I’ve only been to Europe in the summers.”
“It rarely snows in Raleigh, but my parents used to bring us skiing at Snowshoe in West Virginia during the winter.”
“Are you any good?”
“I’m all right. I never liked to go too fast. I’m not a risk taker. I just want to have fun.”
Up ahead, he saw clouds flickering on the distant horizon. “Is that lightning?”
“Probably.”
“Does that mean we should turn back?”
“It’s out to sea,” she said. “The storm will be coming from the northwest.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure,” she said. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”
“All right, then,” he said with a nod, and they continued on, the pier growing ever smaller behind them. Sunset Beach eventually came to an end, with Bird Island directly ahead. They had to skirt the dune to keep their feet from getting wet, and Tru found his thoughts drifting back to the way she’d playfully bumped against him. It seemed as though he could still feel the sensation, a tingling up and down his arm.
“It’s a mailbox,” Tru said.
They’d reached Kindred Spirit, and Hope watched as Tru simply stared at it.
“I already told you that.”
“I thought it might be a metaphor.”
“Nope,” she said. “It’s real.”