The Sky Beneath Her(43)

She handed me a cup, and I pressed the warm stoneware against my temple, willing the headache to ease. “I’m not hearing the ‘why you can’t sleep’ part.”

Kaitlin frowned at me. “Do you think that I’ll be cleaning houses for the rest of my life?”

“I don’t know. Do you want to?”

“The money is good, it’s necessary to keep the surf shop afloat, but . . .”

“You’re wondering if there’s more to life than money, Kaitlin. It’s always the question of the day in the law office where I work. The work there pays well, but it’s not always satisfying. A lot of people quit the legal field to find their bliss.”

“And?”

I shrugged. “One guy left to hike part of the Appalachian Trail and then discovered he really liked sleeping in a real bed. He came back to the law firm, but he now works fewer hours. Another gal wanted to drive across the country. Car troubles forced her to get work as a waitress. She’s still in Kansas City doing that but texted a few coworkers that she wants to return.”

“You’re saying there’s no gold at the end of the rainbow?”

“I grew up with a treasure hunter. I know it all looks great when you see the five-minute montage on YouTube. But hunting treasure across the world is like all things in life. A few days are terrific. But just as many days, we were fighting wind and hard rain. There’s always good and bad.”

Kaitlin poured herself a cup of coffee and took several sips. “You’re crushing my fantasy.”

“I don’t mean to do that. I’m just saying if you choose to go on a great adventure, it’s never going to be perfect. Try to have a plan B. I should’ve followed my own advice when I moved into Dave’s house. I thought I had a great plan, but I didn’t insist on being added to the mortgage.”

“What happened to jumping without a parachute?”

I paused before I took my next sip. “It’s fun, at first. And then the ground”—I winced—“hits hard. I wouldn’t advise leaving a parachute behind.”

“I know it was rough for you after your mom died. Mom always worried that you’d never recover.”

“I found a picture of our mothers and your dad together. They were teenagers, and they looked so happy.” I pulled up the images on my phone.

She studied the one picture closely, enlarging her mother’s face. “Where did you find the pictures?”

“They were in an article I found in the Southern Shores house.”

She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would Dr. Brooks save articles like that?”

“I don’t know. I guess he knew both Mom and Carol.”

“I never met him.”

“Hopefully I’ll find more information when I dig deeper.”

“Yeah, keep me posted.” She handed me back my phone.

I cleared the hitch in my throat. “I will. Your mom was always kind to me. I should’ve noticed how sick she was. I wish I’d paid more attention. I should’ve stayed longer so I could have helped.”

“She was glad you didn’t. She realized this place wasn’t good for you after your mom vanished.”

After the Atlantic swallowed Mom, I was so consumed that I didn’t see that Kaitlin and her mother were also sinking. I’d always thought she was lucky because her mother had died of cancer. She was able to speak to her at the end. She had a funeral for her and knew where she was buried. But she’d also lost her mother. Pain was pain.

And here she was helping me again. I could at least help her for as long as I could.

“Let’s get going,” I said. “The work awaits.”

“You’re right. Those toilets won’t clean themselves.”

Kaitlin had always been able to put one foot in front of the other. She was double-timing the work and chasing a dream, while I’d stayed frozen in place.

We grabbed our coffees and a few energy bars and left the apartment. The van rolled down the beach road toward a collection of condos on the ocean. She pulled into the parking lot and put the van in park.

“What else did you find in the flattop?” Kaitlin asked.

“Pictures of Dr. Brooks and a lovely brunette in front of the house shortly after it was built. And several articles about Mom.”

“Your mom was a big deal seven years ago. A lot of people lived vicariously through her adventures. Her death tossed cold water on their fantasies. Some Gen Xers still talk about her on the anniversary.”

“They do?”

“If Mariah Cassidy could die, then anyone could.”

“Is that why people tended to avoid me?”

Kaitlin sighed. “You were the living proof of their fears. And let’s face it, dying at sea is sexier than cancer.”

“Did people avoid you after your mother died?”

“No. I had more casseroles than I could eat. But life goes on, and the casseroles stopped.”

Kaitlin hadn’t had a trust fund. No articles about her mother, beyond an old surf competition and an obituary that I’d read in the Norfolk paper.

“Who was the reporter who wrote about your mom?” she asked.

“Lex Green.”

“Lives in Manteo.”

“That’s right.”