“You need a hand?” a deep voice drawled from behind her, startling her.
Samira turned to find herself face to face with eyes as green as the Chesapeake Bay. Piercing eyes that looked out from the tanned, rugged face of a man who spent his time outside. Eyes she hadn’t gazed into in nearly fifteen years.
“Andy,” she managed.
Andy Grant made his way to stand beside her at the sink. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has,” Samira replied.
“I’m sorry about your uncle. I know you two were close.”
She felt the tears she had been trying to hold back all afternoon threatening to spill. She had purposely kept herself busy with putting out the food as people brought it over and cleaning up the empty dishes, not wanting to think about the frantic phone call she had received from her aunt. She didn’t want to think about the fact that they had just buried her uncle, and, once again, she hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye.
“Thank you,” she managed after a few moments.
She could feel Andy’s gaze on her as she loaded the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher. Silently, she picked up the dishrag and wiped down the countertop before placing the rag over the steel faucet.
“Well, I’d better get back out there to my aunt,” Samira said as she turned and went out the swinging door, leaving Andy in the kitchen.
She didn’t stop until she reached the back yard. With a deep breath, she took in the warm saltwater breeze and tried not to dwell on the way she felt in Andy’s presence. It had taken her nearly a year to stop hoping for his phone call and even longer to get over knowing it would never come. This was the first time she’d been down home in over ten years, and she was there to help her aunt and pay her respects to her uncle, not get caught up in Andy.
“Do you need anything, Aunt Mary?” she asked as she approached the white folding table.
“No, dear. You’ve done more than enough. Did you get a chance to catch up with all your people? I saw Andy a little while ago.”
“It’s been so long; I doubt most people even remember me. I saw Andy. But I’m not here for that. I’m here to help you,” Samira answered carefully.
Mary absently swiped at her short gray hair. “I don’t need anything. You’ve been quite a help. Everything is pretty much cleaned up, thanks to you.”
Samira looked around the yard and saw that only a few of her aunt’s close friends remained and nearly everything had been put away. There was a gray pickup truck backed into the yard with most of the tables and chairs folded and neatly placed on the bed.
“There must be something else I can do. You know I’m only here for a couple days. I want to make sure you have everything you need before I go back to DC.”
Mary patted Samira’s hand. “I am quite alright. But remember what we talked about? Are you sure you can’t stay longer? We need to go over all of that stuff and sign whatever needs to be signed. With Labor Day coming up you probably won’t be able to get it done right away.”
“I told my boss I’d be back in town tomorrow afternoon. It’s always busy leading up to any holiday. I’ll just do what I can over the phone and then come back when everything is set,” Samira explained.
“I think you should at least take a look at the property once more before you decide. Your uncle knew you would have tried to fix things with your parents if you had time. That’s why he left that property to you. It was his idea to put it in the will that whoever went first would leave you your parents’ house, so you would have a piece of home to return to whenever you were ready,” Mary said gently.
“I’ve been doing my best to move forward since Mom and Dad died. I’ve been trying to move forward since I left this place and went to the city. If I was meant to be here, I’d still be here. If I keep that house, I’ll just keep dwelling on the past.”
Samira could see the disappointment cross her aunt’s face before she quickly covered it up. She had not seen her aunt inperson since she had left the island fifteen years ago, other than during the brief visit she made to bury her parents.
“You do whatever you feel is right, honey. Since everything is packed up, I’m going to head in and retire early. It’s been a long day,” Mary said before giving Samira’s hand another pat.
Before long, she found herself alone and restless in her aunt’s house. Mary had gone to her room to rest, and Samira had run out of things to do. All the laundry was clean. The little cottage was spotless, and all the dishes had been cleaned and put away since the gathering.
She allowed herself a moment to look at the photos on the mantle. The first golden frame contained a photo of a young Samira at the zoo smiling in front of the tiger area with her aunt and uncle. The next photo was in black and white and appeared to be a wedding photo. Aunt Mary’s thick dark hair was pinned up on top of her head, and she smiled up at Uncle Brian as he smiled down lovingly at her.
The next photo caused her breath to hitch. The picture had been taken on her uncle’s work boat. Her father sat in a chair and her mother stood behind him, leaned in close with her arms across his chest. Her mother’s creamy white skin was a sharp contrast against her father’s chocolate brown skin. Samira knew in her heart it was a photo from their last Labor Day.
Samira turned away from the photographs and wiped at the tears that had managed to escape. She needed to get out of the small house filled with too many memories of her loving uncle and estranged parents. She slipped her shoes on and headed out the front door.
The sun was just starting to set and there was a nice breeze. She walked down the driveway and turned toward the water. Her aunt’s house wasn’t waterfront, but with a short walk, she would be at the bay. The breeze picked up and caught her thick curly hair as she got closer.
The only sound she heard was the gentle lap of waves along the shore and crickets chirping in the fields. Finding the path she used to take as a teenager, she made her way down the rocky slope and onto the sand. She took a few steps, then sat on a large rock, closed her eyes, and concentrated only on the wind hitting her face.
***
