Page 30 of You're the Reason

“I said a drive, not grocery shopping. I have something much more special in mind.” The woman lifted an old-fashioned tan hat with a spray of pink flowers from the hook and ran a pin through it, securing it to her low bun. Then she stepped past Grace and out the door.

Once in the car, it didn’t take Grace long to deduce where they were going. Even though she couldn’t see beyond the thick foliage on either side of the road, there wasn’t much west of Heritage besides Lake Michigan. And with the road they’d chosen, they would come out on the beach just about on the point of Little Sable Lighthouse. But since Ms. Margret kept her mouth shut as they drove, so did Grace.

And unlike when she was with her parents, this silence she didn’t mind. Driving in the country up here was one thing she missed while living in the city, with the trees stretching over the roads creating living tunnels. The quiet, shaded miles had always felt calming, peaceful, and welcoming. “Beautiful.”

Ms. Margret nodded from next to her. “Once upon a time, this area was all covered in mostly white pine. The deciduous trees didn’t really make an appearance until they deforested the area for the lumber.”

“That’s sort of sad.”

“True, but sometimes you have to cut away beautiful things to make room for even more beautiful things.” Ms. Margret sent her a look to make sure she got the analogy. Yeah, she got it. But how did one know what to cut down and what to keep?

“Where did all the lumber go?”

“Chicago-bound just like you. Built most of the city.” The woman seemed to be playing the game of how many lessons could she squeeze into one talk. And Ms. Margret was definitely a worthy player. “Although it was the part of Chicago that burned in the fire of 1871.”

Grace darted her gaze to her then back to the road. “Just like me?”

“What?” The woman’s brow pinched as if she wasn’t following.

“I went to Chicago, and now I’m on the verge of burning down?”

Ms. Margret chuckled, then reached across the car, patted Grace’s arm, and pointed to a parking spot. “I might not take that analogy too far.”

Grace put the car in park, then climbed out and hurried around to help Ms. Margret with the door. They weren’t far from the lake, but because of the series of large sand dunes that stood between them and the water’s edge, they couldn’t see it. The parking lot bordered a wide gap in two of the dunes and if they followed that sandy path, they’d come out directly in front of Little Sable Lighthouse.

Ms. Margret accepted Grace’s hand, then waited as Grace locked the car. “I know I was being over the top earlier, but I might just need your arm in this sand. Balance isn’t what it used to be.”

“Of course.” Grace secured her arm in hers before leading them on.

Ms. Margret’s steps were slow but steady as they moved forward. “I assume you have been here, growing up so close.”

“I have. I showed a friend a photo once in Chicago, and she thought it was photoshopped. She said that you couldn’t build a lighthouse in the sand.”

As if her statement had conjured it up, the tall structure jettisoning out of the sand came into view. The deep red bricks, backdropped by the blue sky and accented by the pale sand at the base, always took her breath away no matter how many times she saw it.

The lake was fairly calm today and still very cold, if the fact that none of the beachgoers were actually in the water was any indication. They continued to the base of the lighthouse, then Ms. Margret pointed to a small rise in the sand nearby. “This is far enough.”

Grace held the woman’s arm as she settled her into the sand, then took a seat next to her.

“I might never be able to get up again, but it’s a beautiful place to die.” Ms. Margret dusted off her hands with a chuckle. “You know, I have sat here hundreds of times over the years, but I’ve never sat in the same sand.”

“I never thought about it like that.” Grace dug her hands in the sand on both sides of her. The top had been warmed by the sun but the underneath was cool.

Ms. Margret picked up a handful and let it fall through her fingers. “Ever shifting, ever changing, but I enjoy it every time.”

Ah, they were back to lesson-speak. Hopefully, this comparison wouldn’t end with her burning down. “Are you suggesting that where I find my joy in life will change but that’s okay?”

Grace leaned back on her elbows. A little girl screamed and laughed as she ran from her brother closer to the shore. Right now, life without ballet seemed too empty to consider. “I love ballet—you taught me to love ballet. Why are you now trying to talk me out of it?”

“I’m not.”

Could have fooled her.

Ms. Margret pointed at the lighthouse. “Do you remember the old Sunday school song about building your house on the rock rather than on the sand?”

Another lesson? She hadn’t even really understood the last one. It was like hanging with Mr. Miyagi or Yoda. Why couldn’t older people just speak directly. “I remember the song.”

Ms. Margret crossed her ankles and dusted her hands off again. “That always confused me when I would come here as a child.”

---