Salt Water Wounds (Oyster Cove #1) Read Free

works at the Atlantic Shoals Surf Shop. Out of all the kids, he’s probably the most compassionate. He worries about others, and thinks before he says something damaging. In many ways I wish I could think like he does. Maybe life would have been easier to handle during the bad times. I have to take what he says to heart, because there is no way he’d be disrespectful unless he felt the need to open my eyes.
    Dane squats down beside me and spreads a bouquet of daisies around the foot of the stone. “They were always her favorite. I remember stealing them from Mr. Neely’s garden so she could have them on the kitchen counter.”
    “She did love them,” I agree.
    “I can’t believe it’s been seven years. Where has the time gone?”
    There’s nothing I can say, because I don’t know either. I have six grown children still living under my roof, most with little to show for. I go to bed every night wrapped in the same floral sheets my wife would use. Her watch remains on the nightstand, her alarm still set for six to get the kids ready for school. Seven years and I’ve never been able to turn it off. I don’t know which of the kids does it, but sometimes I pretend it’s Layla, still somehow participating in our busy life.
    “I don’t know, son.”
    We stand, my hands in my pockets, while one of his comes up to my shoulder. “You’re getting old.”
    “Don’t I know it?”
    “This probably isn’t the right place to say it, but I think it’s time you started taking better care of yourself. Cut your hair. Take a vacation. Start dating. You’re falling apart. You’ve aged twenty years in the last seven. It’s probably because us kids give you such a hard time, but enough is enough. I don’t feel like visiting this place for both of my parents, at least not in the near future.”
    I shake my head. My teeth grind together as frustration sets in. “Mind your own business. I don’t need to change.” I’m stubborn. The last thing I want is advice from my own son, but he’s probably right.
    He sighs then chuckles with a head shaking grin. “She’d want you to change, Dad, not wither away. You’re borderline pathetic.”
    It’s difficult to imagine what my kids have gone through in their own eyes. What’s more painful is knowing why I know I’ll never be able to move forward. Layla was a jealous woman. If anyone of the opposite sex looked at me she’d find reason to worry. I’d flirted too much, been generous and kind to the wrong people, leaving people to assume the worst in me. In a lot of ways I wonder if my inappropriate actions led me to this void. Maybe if I’d paid more attention to my wife, I wouldn’t have lost her. Maybe if I’d been a better father, my kids wouldn’t resent me, they’d listen and respect me instead. Maybe if I didn’t drown my sorrows in booze.
    See the pattern?
    My faults can’t be unwritten. There is no going back. The love of my life is gone, taken before I could recognize how strong my devotion was for her. Stolen from my grasp before I had the chance to explain to her how much she meant to me. I don’t deserve to move on. I don’t deserve to be happy. “I’m not ready to change. The truth is, this is how I keep her alive. She’ll always be my wife.” It takes courage to get the words out without my voice cracking, yet another reminder of why I’m not ready to change.
    Dane is quiet for a second. “I get it, but Mom never liked it when we gave up. One day we’ll all be gone. What then?”
    I ignore him. “Thanks for coming out to celebrate her birthday, Dane. At least one of you kids can be respectful. I’ll let you have some time to yourself. There’s somewhere else I need to be.”
    “Yeah, we all know where to find you later. Nothing changes,” he rambles while I’m walking away.
    Without an argument, I exit the cemetery, still having hopes that the other kids will at least make an appearance before the day’s end. Just like every year after