Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(42)

Linnea shrugged. “If I did, they didn’t make much of an impression.”

“Well, you’ll meet the mysterious John Peterson at the party.”

“Is he good-looking?”

Cara laughed. “I haven’t seen him in years.”

“But you said he surfs?”

“He did. Devotedly.”

“That’s on my bucket list this summer. I’ve always wanted to learn, and for the life of me I can’t imagine why I never did. I mean, the ocean’s right out there! My dad taught Cooper, but not me.” She frowned. “It’s that double-standard thing again.”

“Why didn’t you ask Brett to teach you? He loved to surf.”

“I don’t know,” Linnea replied with remorse. “I guess he taught me so much already.”

“He would have enjoyed teaching you. He loved you, you know. Like a daughter.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “So silly,” she said, sniffing. She reached for a napkin. “I was afraid you might burst into tears at the mention of Brett, and here I am, weeping like a baby.”

“Don’t start, or I will.”

“I’m okay. . . .” She wiped her eyes and laughed at herself. “I’m such a crybaby. I cry in movies, reading a book, even watching a Hallmark commercial.”

“I just had a brilliant idea. Come with me,” Cara said, swinging her legs to the ground and rising. “Watch your step.”

She led Linnea down the dark steps to the ground and around the corner to the leeward side of the house. She flicked on the light to illuminate the area under the front porch where they stored the strollers, bicycles, garden equipment, and such.

“There it is,” Cara said, and made her way toward the far corner of the storage space. She had to dodge spiderwebs and move a bicycle. She rested her hand on a long blue and white surfboard, pausing in private thought. Then she turned to Linnea. “This was Brett’s surfboard. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t sell it with his other things. Maybe because he’d had it for such a long time and loved it. And maybe because when I see it, I remember how handsome he looked riding the waves.” She smiled at the memory. “I know he’d want you to have it.”

“I couldn’t . . .” Linnea said, deeply touched.

“Let’s not do that back-and-forth dance,” Cara said. “I want you to have it. Use it! That’s what a surfboard is meant for. It’d make both of us happy.”

“It’s in such good condition.”

“Brett was meticulous about his tools.”

“I’d love to have it. Thank you. I can’t wait to try it out.”

“Maybe John can teach you.”

“What’s to teach? I just take the board out and hop on, right?”



LINNEA ROSE WITH the sun, eager to ride the waves on her new surfboard. She applied a thick coating of high-SPF lotion while looking out at the rosy sky. She slipped into her bikini and a rash guard and flip-flops, then tied her blond hair back with an elastic. She moved quietly, not wanting to stir the sleeping baby.

The house was dimly lit with the first rays of the sun as she creaked across the wooden floors. The house was dear to her, at no time more than in these early hours when the world still slumbered. The toys were neatly stacked, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Hope had them splayed across the floor. Soon the scent of coffee would fill the air, the phone would start ringing, and the day would be off. But for now . . . all lay in wait.

Opening the front door, Linnea stepped out into the morning’s promise. She made her way down the stairs to the storage area under the porch, where the surfboard sat near the entrance. She imagined Brett coming down these same stairs, fetching his board, and going out to the sea. The board was much heavier than she’d imagined and so long that she could hardly manage to carry it along the beach path to the ocean. She felt like a mother sea turtle dragging a heavy shell, stopping frequently along the way to catch her breath.

But at last she made it, and she took great gulps of the fresh breeze as she stared out at the ocean. She felt a surge of exhilaration. It was her favorite time of day on the beach, when the sun cast a rosy tint on the dark water and the sand. For those few precious moments, the effect was otherworldly. There was no time to waste, however. Two surfers were already out in the ocean, bobbing on the waves like pelicans. It was a perfect day to begin surfing.

She’d gone on the Internet to watch a few how-to videos on surfing and felt prepared. The swell was a few feet high, which by South Carolina standards wasn’t too bad. She hoisted the surfboard the final feet to the water’s edge. The air was a bit chilly, which made the water feel cooler. Refreshing, Lovie would call it. Standing with her feet in the water, Linnea felt a sudden rush of doubt. She really didn’t know a thing about surfing other than from a quick Internet search and a lifetime of watching others. This was something she’d always wanted to learn, right? Cooper had learned at the age of ten. How hard could it be?

“Here we go,” she said aloud, and set the board on the water. She clumsily lay down on the board and clung to the sides as it rocked wildly. “Whoa,” she exclaimed, trying not to fall off. Once it settled, she cautiously began to paddle with her arms. At first she seemed to go back more than forward. She put some muscle into the effort, and gradually began inching forward. She was beginning to feel good about her progress out toward where the two other surfers sat on their boards, waiting for a good wave. Each small wave set her back a bit, but she kept going. Then she caught sight of the first wall of blue water. Her eyes widened, and she gripped the sides of the board as the wave slammed into her. She went rolling off the board and was sent spinning in the wave, hurtling toward the shore.