The Best of Me

by Tina Wainscott

  Liberty was a happy camper when he saw them approaching. Just as she was going to ask for a fish to feed Liberty, Chris handed her one. Their gazes caught for a moment, an understanding, a bond that extended to Liberty.

  “I’m varying his feedings so he gets out of a schedule.” He tossed a fish on the far side of the pool, then one at the other end. “Soon I’ll stop feeding him directly. He won’t know where the fish are coming from.”

  She felt a little sad when the bucket was empty. The end. They’d started out with eight pounds of fish and now it was gone. Seven days in the Bahamas had seemed like a long time, too, but now it was almost gone.

  “Do you miss them when they go free?” she asked.

  “The dolphins?”

  “Yes. You spend a lot of time with them.”

  “I go in knowing they’re going to leave. I suppose I miss some of them, but I’m happier knowing they’re free.” His fingers tightened over her hand.

  “Bye, Liberty,” she said, feeling an emptiness at even his loss.

  AS THE SUN began its descent, Chris cooked a couple of yellow-tailed snappers he’d taken from the traps, and they ate on the beach. They talked about trivial things, anything but the somber mood that underscored the evening. Lucy remembered the camera she’d brought, and wandered around taking pictures while Chris lay back on the blanket.

  “Did you take a picture of me?” he asked when she joined him a few minutes later.

  “Yes. Do you mind?”

  “I don’t think so. But why did you take it?”

  She leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart.

  “I don’t want to forget you.”

  He looked at her for a moment, as though he couldn’t fathom why she would want to capture him forever. Then he leaned forward and kissed her.

  “Stay with me tonight, Lucy.”

  Her chest tightened at his words, but she didn’t hesitate in her answer. She’d been hoping he’d ask, afraid to suggest it for fear of rejection. The smile with the dimples spread over her face. “I’d love to.”

  She reached out and touched his chin, running her fingers along the bottom edge and over the slight stubble. He kissed her again, long and slowly, awakening every nerve in her body. Warmth pooled in her lower stomach, then lower yet. How long had it been since she’d felt this way…felt like a woman?

  “Do you want to take a shower?” he asked.

  Another flush washed over her body. “W-with you?”

  He grinned. “That was the idea. Chicken?”

  “Chicken! No way.”

  Absolutely way. Her stomach quivered as he led her to the boathouse. There were parts of her—deep, feminine parts—that ached at the thought of being touched by Chris. She was chicken, but she wasn’t going to chicken out.

  “You’re going to need clothes,” he said.

  “I’ve got an extra shirt in my bag. In fact, I’ve still got your shirt.” She didn’t want to give it back.

  He shrugged. “Keep it if you want.”

  She smiled despite herself and her intention to make light of his gift. “Thanks.”

  He looked at her again in that questioning way as though he couldn’t understand why she’d want something as silly as his shirt. She couldn’t even explain it to herself.

  The sunset washed everything in pink-and-gold tones, even Chris’s skin. He looked at her before disappearing around the corner. He was leaving it up to her. Like she really had a choice. She moved forward, pulling off her shirt as she turned the corner and found him standing there. Her heart stopped beating.

  He stood naked beneath the water as it sluiced down the muscles and tan skin of his body. He reached out to her, his long fingers beckoning her forward.

  Her fingers slid against his wet ones as he pulled her closer. Their bodies barely touched as they stood beneath the cool water. He slid his finger beneath the strip of her bathing suit, dislodging one strap and then the other. She started to pull the rest down, but he stopped her with nothing more than a look. Very slowly he ran his fingers beneath the top of her suit, making her breasts tingle with warmth. He took his time working her suit down, taking in every inch of her like she were some magnificent sea creature to cherish.

  His hands skimmed down her bare waist, rolling the suit over her hips until it dropped down to her feet where she stepped out of it. She wanted to touch him, to feel him against her, but he ran his hands back up her hips, over her stomach to the curves of her breasts. His thumbs circled the sensitive skin until she thought she might die of wanting him. Blindly she reached out, placing her palms against his chest, too distracted to inflict the same sweet torture on him.

  She rolled her head back, eyes closed, and let out a long, low moan. He pulled her flush against him, matching her sound with a growl that vibrated from his mouth directly to hers as he kissed her. His hands slid over the wet curves of her back and bottom, pulling her closer yet. She felt him pressing hard against her stomach, felt his skin against her sensitized breasts. Her hands explored down his sides where she felt the ridges of his ribs, the smoothness of his waist and the slimness of his hips.

  He tilted her head back and slid his tongue beneath her chin and nibbled at her neck. Reaching behind her, he took the bottle of shampoo and poured some out, lathering it into her hair, never once moving more than half an inch away. Bubbles slid down her chest to collect where their bodies fused together. She poured a dollop of shampoo into her palm and did his hair next, relishing the feel of his curls twining around her fingers.

  The liquid soap was next. He stepped back for the first time since he’d pulled her close and slid his soapy hands over every curve of her body, over and over and over until her knees threatened to collapse into jelly. This was what she’d been dreaming about the last time she’d showered here. She grabbed for the soap and turned the tables, realizing why he’d taken so long, relishing the pleasure of feeling every contour, even the ones that made his fingers close tightly over her waist.

  He moved them to the shower, kissing her beneath the flow of water as it washed over them and collected in the basin. She could vaguely hear the drip drip as it overflowed and drizzled down beneath the boards to splash into the water below.

  He reached behind her to turn off the water, pressing her back against the wall in the process. His chest was rising and falling heavily, touching her slightly with each exhalation. His hands were planted on either side of her, and his face so close she could feel a drop of water transfer from his nose to hers.

  She whispered, “I’m not the kind of woman who…partakes in…one-night stands, you know.”

  “I know.” He kissed her again, a slow, sensual kiss. “But you know that’s all this would be, don’t you? All it can be?”

  His words stung, but she knew he was right. “I know.” But didn’t he dare entertain thoughts of forever?

  “Lucy?” he asked in a raspy voice. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He was looking into her soul again, seeing the sensible Lucy that had been forgotten in the last few days. “You’re leaving tomorrow, back to your life and your business. And from here, I go on, too. I don’t want you hurt.”

  She was trying not to think about all that, but he was right. This was a one-night stand, a vacation fling. She wasn’t a fling type of girl. But at that moment she wanted to be, very, very badly and she knew she’d be hurt very badly, too, when they had to part. “We could, you know, write. And call each other.”

  He reached up and took her chin in his hand. “Never works. Let’s make it a clean break.”

  “You want me to leave?”

  “No.” The word ground out of him. “I want you to stay. I just don’t want any illusions between us.”

  “I have no illusions,” she whispered, but her heart called her a liar. Her desire went deeper than physical, warning her that making love would bring on an avalanche of heartbreak. “What if I just…sleep here?”

  His finger trailed from her forehead ove
r her nose to her lips. “Ever spent the night in a hammock with a man before?”

  “Before the other night, I’d never spent the night in one period.”

  They dried each other off, taking their time to make sure every crevice was attended to. He tugged her arm, pulling her into the boathouse where they snuggled into the hammock together. Her fingers brushed his bracelet, that reminder about not getting attached. His desire was evident, pressing insistently against her flesh. She ached for the sacrifice he was making—and the one she was making, as well. She turned to him, their cheeks brushing.

  “How do you know I’m not the one-night stand type?”

  “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “But you’ve had…flings before. If I was willing, what did it matter what kind of girl I am?”

  “You ask too many questions, you know that?”

  “Mmm-hmm. So?” She tightened her hold on the bracelet, bringing his gaze to her fingers. “Are you afraid of getting attached to me?”

  He rubbed his cheek against hers, his eyes closed. “I’m going to miss you, Lucy. That’s as attached as I want to get.”

  She closed her eyes, too, feeling warm and tired, paradoxically satisfied and hungry at the same time. He pulled her closer, and she hooked her leg over his. Their bodies were sealed together, naked, but chaste. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow, wished it would never come. And as she drifted in the netherworld between wakefulness and sleep, she knew she wanted this man more than anything in the world. And it wasn’t an illusion.

  LUCY COULD SEE sunlight from behind her closed eyes, but something else was there, too. She opened her eyes to find Chris watching her with a content smile. It felt like a balloon was inflating inside her, expanding her insides as she met his eyes. I love this man. The voice inside her stated this so unequivocally, she shivered. No, she couldn’t love him.

  “Cold?” he asked, pulling her closer.

  She glanced down, realizing she was naked. Her hand was splayed across his stomach, as though he belonged to her. Their skin was damp wherever they connected.

  “Definitely not.”

  She was drowning.

  She looked down at her hand again, at the spray of hair that her pinky finger touched the edge of. Her leg was still slung over his lower body, discretely covering his anatomy, though she was well aware of it beneath her thigh. She moved her hand over his stomach, to his chest. He felt warm and solid. Would she ever look back on this and think it was only a dream?

  He watched her, and she wondered if he could see her inner turmoil. Now she understood clearly what he meant by a clean break. What he didn’t realize was that this was not a fling nor a one-night stand. If they made love, she somehow knew it would change her, touch her and never let her go. Or maybe he did understand that. It was crazy, but some part of her actually felt as though she belonged here with him.

  “I get up at five-thirty every morning,” she said, taking up his earlier question. “I do some weights or a workout tape, then I get ready for work. I usually have at least three meetings, either with our art department or with clients. There are always deadlines to meet, people to please, new business to lure. It probably doesn’t sound very exciting to you.”

  “I can’t even imagine what that kind of life is like. I’m sure my life probably doesn’t sound very exciting to most people.”

  “Actually, it sounds kind of crazy.” She smiled. “And very heroic.”

  He smirked. “It’s not heroic. It’s just something I do.”

  And that’s why she loved him. The thought sped her heartbeat. Oh, no, she did love him. When had it happened? It had started when he’d played the guitar for Liberty. She could never tell him she felt that way. First of all, he wouldn’t believe her. She wasn’t sure if she even believed it. It was crazy. She’d known him only a week, yet he had drawn her into his world. Into him.

  “I wish I could stay even one more day.” I wish I could stay forever.

  “You’ll feel differently when you get back to your life,” he said.

  “How can you be so damned sure?”

  He rolled the hammock until it threatened to spill them out, then helped her to stand before joining her. “Because this is not your life. You belong in St. Paul, and as soon as you get home, you’ll realize that.”

  She sighed. “But don’t you wish—”

  “Don’t go there, Lucy.” His seriousness quelled any hope she had that he might entertain any illusions about their future. They had none, he was telling her. He was right, of course, but it hurt that he wasn’t even willing to hope they could. “What time is your flight?”

  “Two o’clock.”

  “I’ll take you to your hotel so you can pack. Come by the park to say goodbye, okay?”

  She nodded, tightening her lips because she felt an insane urge to cry. “I want to take some pictures before I leave here.” She grabbed her camera and walked outside before realizing she was still naked. Lord, but she’d become bohemian. She slipped back in to change before stepping out into the sunshine again.

  White, fluffy clouds skittered across the vivid blue sky. No one would believe that the water really looked like glass cleaner, that whole worlds lived beneath the surface. She wanted to capture the sounds, the smells, and most of all the feelings this place gave her, even the little ache that had settled into the pit of her stomach. She realized that it had replaced the emptiness that had once resided there.

  LUCY SAID HER GOODBYES to Bill and made arrangements for him and Bailey to stay on until she decided what to do with the park. Bailey was going to take her to the airport. She pulled out her camera as she approached where Chris was absorbed in that social touching thing with Liberty. Like the day he’d played guitar for the dolphin, she stood mesmerized for a moment as Chris’s nose touched Liberty’s snout. Then she forced herself to position the camera and take a picture.

  Chris turned at the sound of the shutter releasing. “Uh-oh, more pictures.”

  She took another one of Liberty bobbing his head.

  “So I don’t forget,” she said, kneeling down by the edge of the pool.

  “Sometimes it’s better to forget.”

  Would he forget her? The thought made her heart ache. She smacked the surface of the water, and Liberty swam over and popped his head up. She ran her fingers over his wet surface.

  “Liberty, have a good life, you hear me? Never ever let anyone catch you again. Understand?”

  Amazingly, Liberty nodded his head before submerging again.

  “Should be an easy flight to Miami from here. Weather looks good.”

  “I was almost hoping for bad weather. Then I wouldn’t have a choice but to postpone leaving.”

  His smile was faint, but he looked out over the water for a minute before meeting her gaze. “But eventually you’ll have to return anyway.”

  “I know.” She trailed her finger in the water, gaining Liberty’s attention for a moment even though he was on the other side of the pool.

  “He’s using his sonar,” Chris said. “Hopefully he’ll reintegrate with the wild dolphins quickly.”

  “But will they let him in? You said he had no dolphin identity anymore.”

  He smiled. “You remembered that?”

  “Yeah, I actually listened to you, even if you were—”

  “A creep?” he supplied with a grin.

  “Yeah.”

  Their smiles faded, turning to something more serious. It was hard to believe she’d ever felt that way about him. She turned away this time.

  “They’re incredible creatures,” she whispered.

  “That’s why I do what I do.”

  She nodded, knowing that dolphins like Liberty needed a champion, knowing they deserved one. “Are you the only one who does this?”

  “There are a few organizations that try to help the dolphins. You remember the Flipper series from the seventies?”

  “Sure, I grew up on reruns of that show.”

&
nbsp; “Matt Adamson trained the five dolphins who played Flipper. When his favorite died of a broken heart and isolation after the show went off the air, he realized that dolphins weren’t meant for captivity and weren’t put on this earth to entertain us. He founded the Dolphin Project years ago. Our paths crossed when he testified to the U.S. House of Representatives on the investigation of several government agencies supposedly responsible for the welfare of marine animals.” He shook his head. “Even I didn’t realize how high the mortality rate was at the parks. Right now he’s involved in a controversial row with the Navy over the dolphins they trained for combat in the Cold War. He went on a hunger strike in Israel and got them to ban dolphin importation.” He laughed softly. “The man means business when it comes to dolphins.”

  “Why don’t you work with him? Sounds like the two of you have a lot in common.”

  Chris smiled wryly. “That we’re both crazy enough to throw our lives away so we can free dolphins?” He shrugged. “I’ve learned a lot from his studies and techniques. But I work alone. That’s how I’ve always worked.”

  She nodded slowly. Take a hint, girl. He’s trying to tell you something. But what did it matter anyway? It wasn’t like she would throw her life away and join him on his quest to free dolphins. Now that would be insanity at the highest levels.

  He looked at his watch. “Are you about ready to head for the airport?”

  Her mouth stretched into a frown. “I guess.”

  He slid out of the water in the way that always amazed her. He grabbed a towel and his clothes and walked around to where she sat. “Let’s go then.”

  “You’re taking me?” Her voice lifted at the end of her question, though she dared not hope that’s what he meant.

  “Bailey’s letting me use his car.”

  He changed into shorts and a cotton shirt while she said goodbye to Bailey.

  She took one last look at the park. “I guess this is it,” she said, turning to Chris. “Let’s go.”