Heart storms, p.3
Heart Storms, page 3
Chapter 5
Gabriel appreciated the endearing parts of his culture—they treasured family, church, celebration, tradition, music, good food and drink. They loved God and each other. Yet he’d been subjected to a dark side not only from inside his world but thrust at him from the outside—a world of racism, discrimination, abuse, poverty and violence. There were situations and people who should’ve been his salvation, but they’d betrayed him reinforcing the truths and lies he’d grown up with.
School years were rough dealing with violence, drugs, getting bullied for being smart, for refusing to do drugs or join gangs—his refusal to rob and beat and kill. When he protected his mother from his abusive father—his father, drunk, threw fists and curses at him. There was only so much wickedness Gabriel could deflect before it seeped into his core. So when his father said Gabe was no good and he’d get what he deserved in life, Gabriel suspected something bad, an evil eye, was cast out to follow him.
He spent years working his way up the ladder of life getting knocked down one rung every time he climbed two. But he pressed on learning not to get too comfortable with anything good because the bad times inevitably came, and the next bad thing to come was Consuela. In being honest with himself, though, he admitted she wasn’t the beginning of his troubled life, rather, she was a consequence of it. Still, her evilness lingered in his life.
The night Gabriel kicked Consuela out wasn’t the last he saw of her. She lawyered-up, got custody of their daughter and moved to California with her sister for support to start life over. Gabriel could’ve fought Consuela leaving the state, but his crushed heart rendered him incapable of anything but anger and hatred. He couldn’t look at the witch let alone talk to her, and they communicated only through lawyers. He gave up joint physical custody for her and Gracie to move, because his two jobs left no time to care for a two-year-old. Even though her mother was a cheating whore, Graciela would be better off in California with a mother, aunt, uncle and cousins instead of in San Antonio with a mostly absent father and raised by a babysitter. With his life destroyed, Gabriel became a shell of a man filled with bitterness and pain. That was no kind of life or father for a young, impressionable child.
When Gabe’s mother asked why he didn’t fight Consuela, he’d been honest. “I finally let myself be vulnerable enough to marry, start a family, care deeply, and I got screwed for it—betrayed, lied to, cheated on, and alone again. Same old, same old life of mine, Mama. I shouldn’t have expected anything more.” The awful part was his mother did not disagree.
Part of his agreement with Consuela was that he was allowed to stay in touch with Gracie by phone and email, with sending photos, cards, and gifts. He’d do more when she was older, when she could read, write, travel and use a computer which he’d buy to communicate face-to-face. He’d support her with anything she needed. Because of Gracie, he learned what real love was for the first time. And after she moved away with her mother, Gabriel was left with the devastating loss of her love. The pain was in a place so deep in his soul he didn’t know if he’d ever recover.
When telling his mother he’d be leaving town, too, she hugged and kissed him then held him at arms’ length. “Mi hijo, my beautiful son, you’ve got a terrible chip on your shoulder, anger in your spirit and a wounded heart. You must heal those things, or no matter where you go, you’ll never have a happy life.” He promised to try but wondered how he’d ever be happy again with his personal holy trinity of the chip, the anger and the wounds firmly in place, and the devil’s voice whispering they all belonged there.
If there was one thing Gabe had learned well, though, it was how to survive even the worst of circumstances. He focused on his strengths: he was smart, strong and talented. If he pushed his losses and pain aside, he could envision a future where he’d find a good job and enjoy life as best as a man like him could. There was always good food, wine, music, and sex. If a woman crossed his path, well, she’d be taking her chances. He was always honest with women about who and where he was in life, but he’d also never let one get close enough to take advantage of or hurt him again.
In December the same year, after the witch had left for California, Gabriel took the months of January and February to contemplate his next move. He spent a lot of time alone mulling over ideas. It came to him one night mid-February when he sat at a riverside café after work having a beer and asked the angel on his good shoulder for guidance. Advice came the next morning upon waking, and he knew exactly what he should do.
He gave two months’ notice to his jobs, saved all his money and in April drove east out of Texas like an angel out of hell. He couldn’t put enough road between him and his old life fast enough. As if pulled by some unseen force, he drove until he reached the Atlantic Ocean. Watching the sun rise over the sea, his spirits rose with it. He momentarily forgot the lifelong traumas he ran from and envisioned a fresh opportunity rising with the new day—for a new, peaceful life—one where he would protect himself from love and any emotional risk at all.
Chapter 6
As Jade drove into Charleston, she immediately fell in love with the city. The harbor and ships, its proximity to the ocean, the semi-tropical flora and fauna were all similar to Santa Barbara making Jade feel at home. She missed the west coast’s rocky coastline, Santa Barbara’s rolling hills and Spanish-style architecture. But Charleston’s rich history, culture and stately Georgian, Greek Revival, and Victorian homes compensated magnificently for it.
Ecstatic at seeing Jade again, Amy greeted her with a big smile on a face that appeared cheerful even when she wasn’t. Her large, pale-blue eyes seemed to be always filled with joy. Even though she was mature and level-headed, her fair skin, upturned nose, and curly strawberry-blonde hair made her look perpetually young and girlish. Amy’s optimistic outlook was a good influence for Jade at this point in her broken life.
Bathed in the city’s charm, warmth and the friendliness of the locals, Jade loved most everything about Charleston except for its size and complexity of roads, bridges, and traffic. Therefore, she and Amy made several trips along the South Carolina coastline. Myrtle Beach was the largest city and hub of tourism on the Grand Strand. It was northeast and up the coast from Charleston, a little over a two-hour drive. Jade discovered she preferred the laid-back charm of the small coastal towns and quaint villages. During the late-winter season in February, the tranquil coastline cities were what Jade wanted year-round. With the recent chaos in her life, she needed a small-town atmosphere and wanted to work at a smaller hotel or an inn, not a major chain.
With internet searches and local job websites, she found lots of small establishments with job openings. Amy and Jade drove around for a few weekends looking, but none seemed right. During their third week of searching, they stumbled upon a quaint town and Jade was drawn to the name—Golden Shores. She and Amy walked down the oceanfront road where they found small, older motels and private cottages. But as Jade walked, goosebumps rose on her arms which always meant something significant—a message or a sign—was in the air. Up ahead they found a literal sign near the street. It was large and ornate, and in formal gold script read, ‘Spirit in the Wind—A Bed & Breakfast Inn.’
“I love the name,” Jade said, “and the inn is gorgeous. It would be amazing to work in a place like this.” Set back off the road about fifty yards, the inn’s large lawn had two tall palm trees on either side of the entrance. The house was a grand two-story structure, built in the 1950s she guessed, with Victorian-looking touches in the trim, a high-peaked roofline, shutters and large wrap-around front porch. Even though not Victorian in age, its authentic embellishments were charming, and the setting so tranquil it seemed to belong to another era. Bay windows graced the first floor, and a turret rose high on the opposite side of the inn. The parking area sat to the right, and to the left was a charming smaller one-story motel with the same embellishments as the larger B & B. Attached was a gift shop with local arts and crafts displayed in the windows. Since the shop’s name was ‘Spirit Gallery,’ Jade guessed both places were part of the inn’s business.
Her mind swirled with happy possibilities about working in such a unique, oceanfront inn. Amy took her arm and led her to the back of the parking area where they got a view of the back of the inn. “Look at this, Jade. The beach is out the back door!”
Jade gasped and put her hand to her heart. She looked onto a sprawling lawn dotted with palm trees, long rows of large shrubs that would most likely flower in summer. A pergola covered a stone patio with a fire pit at one end, and a long, narrow wooden walkway stretched over the dunes down to the sand. Another twenty yards away, a wide, white sand beach met the glorious Atlantic Ocean. “Is this place for real? It’s gorgeous, even in winter.”
“It’s very real.” Amy’s enthusiasm grew. “I can see you working here, can’t you?”
“I sure can picture myself walking these grounds, greeting and checking people in, managing every aspect of the place, even the gallery. I have experience with everything. This is perfect for me.”
“I don’t mean to be a killjoy, but did you see their name listed on any job sites advertising open positions?”
“No,” Jade said, still in awe, staring at the inn, “but I have one of my strong gut feelings the owners will need help for the busy season.”
“Summer tourist season doesn’t start until May.”
They walked back to the front of the inn and Jade got an even better idea about it up close. “But I’d bet they’ll need help soon to get the place ready, or to have time to train someone. Call me crazy, but I sense there’s something here for me.”
Amy threw her hands in the air. “You and your mom with your premonitions. There’s only one sure way to find out if you’re right.” She pointed at the inn’s sign. “There’s the phone number. Call them.”
“If the owner’s around I might be able to go in and talk.”
“Don’t,” Amy said, sizing up Jade’s all-black outfit on her trim body: skinny jeans, long clingy sweater with a wide belt, three silver necklaces dangling various crystals, heeled leather boots and several bangle bracelets whose charms clinked like glass when she moved. “You can’t go in there dressed like a cross between a Goth chick and a gypsy.”
Jade looked down at her clothes. “Hey, this is my basic black outfit and lucky jewelry.” She shook her bracelets and laughed. “You’re right, this wouldn’t make a good first impression. Better to call and hopefully have an exploratory talk with the owner. Let’s go back to the car and I’ll call. I don’t want to keep looking over the property like stalkers.”
Jade put the inn’s phone number in her contacts and they walked back to the car. Twenty minutes later after a good talk, Jade had an interview scheduled for Monday morning. “The owner’s name is Richard Stirling. He was going to put an ad on several career websites for a manager next week. We both were amazed I found the inn, and I have all the qualifications he’s looking for.”
“How incredible, especially since we stumbled upon the inn by accident.”
Jade gazed trance-like at the inn in the distance. “I’ll tell you what’s weird. I said the same thing to Mr. Stirling, and he said, ‘I believe there are no accidents in life. Everything happens for a reason.’
“Are you kidding? Oh girl, this is crazy. I hope he’s not an old hippie, seventy years old with a long ponytail and beard, reeking of incense. Thinking about it, Spirit in the Wind is an unconventional, new-agey kind of name for a bed-and-breakfast inn.”
Jade whacked Amy’s arm. “You’re terrible and so judgmental. Remember, I grew up with an unconventional, new-age artist for a mother. If Mr. Stirling is similar to her, I’d have no problem dealing with him.”
“True. But with him saying the thing about no accidents in life, doesn’t it freak you out a little?”
“It is a little unsettling envisioning working for someone who’s like my mother in that regard.”
“Well, the interview will tell a lot. But promise me, if you’re not comfortable with Mr. Richard free-spirit Stirling, or Mr. Richard old, hippie Stirling, you won’t take the job simply to work in a beautiful inn.” Amy waited two beats. “Heck, the name Spirit in the Wind might mean the place is haunted.”
“Stop it, or you’ll have me afraid to go on the interview. Speaking of which, I’ll drive up to Golden Shores on Sunday and stay overnight because of the long drive. I don’t want to risk being late Monday morning.”
“Sounds like a sensible plan. Hey, we should celebrate this weekend.”
“Sounds even better.” But during the drive back to Charleston, Jade’s mind wasn’t on celebrating. It was on Mr. Stirling’s voice—low, smooth, almost seductive, as if he narrated documentaries. It was a voice of authority but with a touch of kindness. And he’d asked her to call him ‘Rick.’ She couldn’t wait to meet the man attached to the voice.
Amy might’ve been right about his age and demeanor, but Jade held no preconceived notions. Except for one. She and Rick both knew finding the inn was not accidental. The sureness of his intuition intrigued her. His forthrightness to speak his true mind implied courage to express his truth regardless of others’ opinions or judgements. What scared her, though, was the more they talked, they seemed not strangers at all. Everything about him, at least over the phone, was familiar to her—the timbre of his voice, the smoothness of his speech, the words he used and the messages conveyed. Her intuition told her even though they’d never met, in some extraordinary way, they weren’t strangers at all.
Chapter 7
RICK STIRLING
Rick fulfilled a dream when he and a partner found an oceanfront, Victorian-style inn on the coast of South Carolina. He thought nothing bad could happen in a place called Golden Shores. They’d found the inn by chance, although his partner taught him major life events didn’t happen by chance or accident.
All looked hopeful until the day during the inn’s first season when life took a swipe at Rick and knocked him down, leaving him alone and depressed. Life betrayed and shocked him with how fast events turned with finality. Rick managed through the Fall but closed the business in November for the winter and headed to Florida to stay with his parents and regroup, to plan his next move for the B & B. If the inn were to survive, he’d have to hire a manager who was well-experienced in the hotel industry. He needed talented, honest, hard-working people he could trust, who would devote their work to growing his business with him.
Rick’s father advised, “Those kinds of dedicated, qualified employees are hard to find. You should look soon, starting January to get them trained and the place running smoothly by mid-May and the start of the season.”
“January’s too early, Dad. I don’t want to pay several employees’ salaries months ahead of when I need them, especially a manager who will be well paid.”
“It’s not about the money. Valuable people of the caliber you’re looking for don’t wander up the front steps looking for work. You’ll need to recruit and interview for a couple months.”
“You never know, Dad. You never know who’ll walk up to the front door in a place like the Spirit in the Wind.” He winced with a jolt of emotion recalling his partner’s words come back to him.
Rick returned to Golden Shores at the end of February, tanned, relaxed and ready to do whatever he must to ensure the inn’s survival. His intuition proved right when Jade Armstrong stumbled upon the inn, by accident she’d said, and the next week she walked through the front door and into his world.
***
On the day Jade met Rick, despite menacing clouds turning the sky gray and the ocean a stormy green, she walked into the interview full of confidence and enthusiasm. At first glance, his image threw her off-guard. She’d been half-expecting Amy’s imagined description of Rick Stirling as an old hippie to be correct. But what walked toward Jade was the opposite.
He was not old and craggy, and nothing about him spoke ‘hippie.’ There was no gray ponytail and his clothes were conservative business casual—gray slacks and a blue oxford shirt. His wavy brown hair was blonde-streaked on top; trimmed above the ears and collar. The hair and tanned skin suggested he’d spent a lot of time outdoors recently someplace sunny. He was tall, trim and mid-thirties-looking. But as she walked closer and got a better look, what drew her in most were his eyes. They seemed to reflect the color of the sea that day—a deep, fluid green changing color with the changing light.
He put out his hand to shake and introduced himself with a rich, baritone voice. Jade stumbled on her words, struggling to reconcile her preconceived image of him with this handsome man. She shook his hand, mumbling, “Hi… Hi… I’m… Jade. Very nice to meet you.”
His crooked smile hinted he suspected she was nervous and expected him to look different. Rick laughed a deep, friendly laugh. “People I meet in person the first time tell me my voice over the phone makes me sound older, like Sam Elliot or Sean Connery. When they meet me, well, sometimes they’re taken aback with seeing I’m not old.”
“No, you certainly aren’t, but I can’t lie—with your remark in our phone conversation about no accidents in life and everything happening for a reason, I was expecting an old hippie, wrinkled with a long gray ponytail.”
“Wow. That’s a new one.”
She looked to the floor. “Sorry.” Looking back to him with a coy grin, she said, “But I’m so glad I was wrong.”
“Well, we’re off to a good start… Jade… Jade… sorry, your last name?”
Flustered because she hadn’t even introduced herself with her full name, she fumbled her purse and dropped the portfolio case.
