High Tide, the second book in the trilogy, picks up days after the end of Kathryn's Beach. It chronicles the second year of Kathryn's return to L.A. With the past put to rest, Kathryn concentrates on the present. Kathryn's friends weave into the tapestry of her life. Kathryn discovers the real identity of her grandfather as they forge a relationship. She is melodramatic and her judgement is flawed in matters of love. Yet, her unwavering passion for social justice and her work with homeless families make her failings forgivable.
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Nadine Laman Books, LLC
~ Chapter 1 ~
LAX: the Gateway of My Life
“Katey, when does Joseph return?” She asks softly just at the moment I lean closer to refill her coffee cup.
Straightening up, I answer smartly, seriously, “Nineteen days, eleven hours, and twenty-two minutes!”
“Really?!” She looks at me intensely. Obviously Karen hadn’t expected such a precise answer.
“No,” I admit casually, moving away to deposit the coffee pot on its burner. “It was a wild guess.”
The sincerity of the moment she had attempted is rapidly replaced by my widening grin. “I made it up!” Turning to face her gaze, my laughter explodes. It takes a minute to settle down enough to give her a respectable answer. “He comes in on the 23rd – late. I’ll have to check to be certain of the exact time.” Smiling, I restrain an abbreviated laugh seeking its freedom. Karen isn’t usually gullible. It seems a bit odd that she didn’t realize I was joking, but I shake it off.
“I was just wondering...” She picks up her cup for a careful sip of the steaming brew. She hesitates thoughtfully. “You haven’t talked about him lately...” Her voice falls away in an obvious invitation for me to fill in the gaps of the conversation.
I study her. For a second I am suspect that she isn’t more probing with her questions since she said she was wondering. She may be older than I, but I am wise to her tricks to coax information out of me. Not today, my friend. Not today. I am not falling for the long-pause-while-I-take-a-drink trick.
“Oh, I–I was busy with the holidays.” I offer a lame answer, refilling my coffee as a diversion from the topic. I can tell by the look on her face that she isn’t buying my story. Without additional incentive, I confess, “Actually I haven’t heard from him since he left.”
Karen tilts her head slightly, studying me for a brief moment. She managed to get past me that the original question was a prelude to the later one. She says nothing, simply letting the hush fill the room until the silence closes its fingers around me.
That does it! That does it! I confess the rest as if I was being interrogated by rebels. “I tell myself that I didn’t expect to hear from him since he hadn’t been back to Ireland for a few years.” Cradling my warm cup, I nearly whisper, “But that isn’t really true.”
“No letter? Christmas Card–or phone call?” Karen gently clarifies.
I shake my head for each item on her list. “No, not even an email,” I add softly. An inaudible sigh follows my confession. Hopefully, the full degree of agony I feel doesn’t show in my face. But it doesn’t matter, I have betrayed myself by telling her the truth.
The truth is that I don't understand why there has been no outward sign Ioseph has thought of me, even once, in the month he has been in Ireland. Surely he has. Yes, of course he thinks of me.
Karen looks up from her cup, meeting my gaze while shaking her head slightly in disbelief, but offers a reassuring smile before taking another taste of her coffee.
I smile sheepishly to keep my thoughts hidden from her. This time I take advantage of her pause and change the topic. “Since the rain finally stopped, do you want to go to the beach?” I ask knowing she rarely refuses an invitation to the beach when she is in such close proximity.
"...chase after life with the drive of an eight-year-old chasing an ice cream truck!"
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