by Jea Hawkins
Blythe looked up from the photography book she was flipping through when Sabrina entered the living room. The massive windows faced the ocean, sheer white solar blinds lifted to let in copious amounts of sunlight.
“I have a proposal for you.” Sabrina set the bouquet of flowers on the coffee table between them and tried to ignore her pounding heart. She’d never made an offer like this to anyone woman in her entire life. Even the one time she’d been serious enough about one to consider moving in together, it hadn’t happened. This was a huge leap in an actual relationship, let alone a fake one. “Besides the whole publicity scheme, I think we can do something good for each other. You want to spend your summer taking pictures of the real Martha’s Vineyard. I want to spend my summer writing my book, and that always includes plenty of walking around and people watching. I think we can work together.”
The idea of sharing her creative process with someone else was equal parts distracting and terrifying. Especially someone so beautiful and clearly with a similar artistic soul. However, if this was what she needed to do to stay in her publisher’s good graces, then so be it. Miranda’s cruel remarks didn’t even factor in, anymore. Not once Sabrina considered the qualities Blythe might bring with her short summer stay.
Before those thoughts could draw Sabrina’s mind along slightly more intimate paths she would rather not explore, Blythe said, “That is really sweet of you. I expected you to come back and kick me out, not offer to let me stay. You know you have every right to make me leave. What Miranda did to you was a dick move.”
Sabrina chuckled. “I appreciate that, but this is bigger than Miranda, or even my publicist. Maybe it’s time I open my home to a fellow artist. I’m always alone in my own world, so this might be good for me.”
“Are you sure? I have places I can go, even if they’re not on Martha’s Vineyard.”
“I realize that. And I don’t know exactly what your relationship with Miranda was like, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say some small part of this is me trying to make up for her bad behavior. She’s done so many women wrong, it would be nice to at least have one thing turn out right.”
Something like surprise flashed across Blythe's face and she smiled. “Well, well, miss Sabrina. I didn’t realize you cared about me so much.”
“No, I don’t, it’s just that…” Sabrina sputtered, at a loss for words. This wasn’t like her. She was a novelist, for goodness sake. Words were her trade. Granted, most of what went on the page were words she itched to say in real life but held back. Yet something about Blythe’s playful response had her babbling like an idiot.
Blythe laughed, the sound music to Sabrina’s ears. “It’s okay. I won’t tell the world that the supposedly reclusive spinster novelist is actually a lovely woman with a heart of gold who takes in stray people. Your secrets are safe with me, as long as mine are safe with you.”
Sabrina wasn’t so sure of that, but she offered what she hoped was a convincing smile and clasped her hands behind her back to steady the rest of her shaking body. Now, there was even more potential for her thoughts to wander or take a wrong turn. Blythe was too sweet, too open, too understanding…
“In fact, everything you have to offer is safe with me — secrets, hopes and dreams, and more, if you want.” Blythe’s voice dropped slightly, her words an invitation if Sabrina had ever heard one.
It was the only thing that could drag her back to the reality of the situation. A reminder that every time she got involved with one of her sister’s exes, she got burned. Blythe’s words were like kindling and Sabrina took a step back.
“Great. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, like a particular place you want to see. If you want to find the real Martha’s Vineyard, it's out there.” She spun on her heel to leave, eager to put distance between the two of them once more, but turned back to add, “There’s pizza and ice cream in the kitchen.”
After that, her office was a welcome escape from Blythe’s radiant presence, but even having space between them couldn’t dilute Sabrina’s nerves. The air was thick with potential to say or do the wrong thing, to turn her impulsive decision into a tangled web of regrets.
Because even the safe space of her office couldn’t shield her from the heartbreak she was sure repeating past mistakes would cause yet again.
Chapter Five
Blythe left her alone for the rest of the day. Somehow, Sabrina managed to tug the words she needed from deep inside. It wasn’t easy, but she decided they were the right words for the story once she saw them on the screen.
There were times Sabrina missed the tactile sensation of her first typewriter, her grandmother’s 1930 Royal with round, firm keys. This was one of those moments when she had to insert a piece of paper and run through the sentence she'd written over and over again as a little girl, teaching herself to type. Her fingers pressed the black and gold keys with confidence.
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
She glanced up from the typewriter at the fading daylight. Sunset would be gorgeous with a few fluffy clouds in the sky. They would probably turn all pink and orange over the dark Atlantic waters.
Without a second thought, Sabrina put on a gray hoodie and left the peace of her office for the sound of waves against the sand. A few steps toward the beach let her know she was not alone. Blythe sat on the old, weathered split-rail fence at the edge of the property. Really, it was just an attempt at a fence made years ago. It only stretched along the back side of the house facing the water.
Blythe perched on the top rail looking quite comfortable, her hands braced on either side of her on the rough, pale wood. The setting sun illuminated her from behind. A golden glow framed her face, accentuating her long blonde hair and delicate features.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Blythe asked almost reverently.
As always, Sabrina had to bite back her initial response and consider her words. Just once, she wished she could say what she really thought. Not leave the best parts of her feelings and impulses to fictional characters.
Instead, though, she swallowed, nodded, and said, “It is.”
“This is one of my favorite places in Massachusetts. I mean, not my absolute favorite, but close enough.”
“What’s your absolute favorite place?” Sabrina closed the distance between them and leaned back against the fence, just out of reach of Blythe’s hand. If she made contact with that warm-looking skin, she didn’t know what Blythe would do. Maybe draw away… or maybe fit her hand to Sabrina’s in that puzzle-perfect way Sabrina had always hoped some woman might.
Blythe drew in an uneven-sounding breath. “P-town and the Watch Point Lighthouse. My grandpa used to take me out there all the time. He loved visiting it. Couldn’t get enough of the ocean. He died out there, you know.” Blythe jutted her chin out toward the water and Sabrina stared until the horizon was nothing but a dark blur where sky met sea.
From here, it looked like both went on forever. She knew that, eventually, you’d come upon a land mass. But the best part of living here was how lonely it looked. A strange thought, Sabrina knew, and probably fitting for someone like her. Someone like her, who’d also lost a loved one to the ocean.
She pulled her focus back to the moment and said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Blythe shrug. “He died doing what he loved. He was in the Coast Guard. His dad, my great-grandpa, was a sailor, too, so all this ocean stuff runs in the family.” Blythe cleared her throat and scrubbed her arm across her eyes. “Anyway, maritime disasters aren’t what they used to be, thank goodness.”
It was an odd conversation and Sabrina wondered if she ought to redirect it. Especially since she’d experienced the same kind of loss. Somehow, though, she couldn’t grasp another topic for them to discuss.
“Grief is a strange animal,” she said, sure she was the strange one. “Sometimes, it overwhelms us and then there are the times we’re glad for it, because it makes us feel human.”
&nb
sp; A glance at Blythe told her it was, somehow, the right thing to say. “Yeah, exactly. We don’t want to lose people, but it’s part of life. I’m glad you weren’t scared to say that. It’s like what I said before – people don’t want to acknowledge the ugliness or stark truth of a lot of things. Like when moms want photos with their babies or wives with their husbands, and they want them soft and filtered and perfect. Life isn’t like that. That’s a dream. It’s not reality. We shouldn’t be so afraid of that reality.”
Of all the women Miranda had brought home, not one of them had sounded as intelligent or thoughtful as Blythe. The knife twisted just a little bit deeper in Sabrina’s heart. This was the kind of woman she’d always wanted, always deserved. Why did Miranda have to get to her first?
Blythe turned and pointed at the house. “Is that a widow’s walk up there?” The sun had set enough so that the house now cast a shadow over them, lengthening along the beach. If not for the hoodie, Sabrina might have gotten a chill. As it was, she shivered from something that certainly wasn’t cold, and rubbed her hands along her arms. Having someone at her side to press into might ward off the shivers.
Then again, it might make them a heck of a lot worse.
She glanced up at the house. “Yeah, it was built in the 1800s, so it has all the traditional features.”
“And a cupola and everything. I love it. Can we actually get up there?” Blythe sounded eager and when she looked back at Sabrina, her eyes were shining, even in the shade.
“We can. I’ll show you.” Sabrina pushed away from the fence and walked back toward the house. Blythe caught up to walk alongside her, her excitement contagious. Heat radiated off her lithe form, hot enough to permeate Sabrina’s hoodie.
Every instinct told Sabrina this was a bad idea, bringing Blythe up to a place she’d pretty much claimed for her own since childhood. Miranda refused to go up to the roof, leaving Sabrina in peace. Even when a storm lashed at the land, Sabrina found solace in knowing she could be alone somewhere in her family’s home.
For once, the words bubbled out of her without any forethought, truth spilling out of her. “This house belonged to my grandparents and we used to vacation here every summer. When I was nine, I got the courage to go up to the widow’s walk. It was the only place I could get away from my family, especially my sister.”
“I can see why you’d want to get away from her.” Blythe released a low chuckle. “She’s kind of intense.”
“‘Kind of’ doesn’t even begin to describe Miranda. Even though she’s ten years older than me, she always made fun of me. I guess I couldn’t take it anymore when I hit my pre-teen years, so the widow’s walk became my little escape. I’d go up there and dream up stories about things. First it was family history that fueled my imagination and then the ocean itself.”
Blythe reached for the back door before Sabrina could and opened it for her. “That explains why all your stories are set in Cape Cod. Your best ideas are gifts from the deep.”
“That’s a poetic way to put it but, yes, I think it’s true.” Sabrina fought the urge to edge closer to Blythe. In her imagination, she was kissing her to see if she tasted something on those lips that was all Cape Cod – salt from the air, sea, or sand. Those flavors would be there, along with something sweet, like ice cream or taffy, and always the sharp taste of inevitable heartbreak.
The way to the widow’s walk was a narrow, twisting staircase lit by an ancient fixture installed when the house was updated for electricity. Once they reached the top, they had a spectacular view of the island and ocean, as well as the sun as it made its final descent in the west.
“Wow, this is amazing.” Blythe exhaled the words with her breath and gripped the wrought iron railing. “You can imagine a woman up here in the 1800s, waiting for her lover to come back from the ocean. She knew, even though she didn’t tell people, that she really couldn’t compare with her husband’s first love, though.”
“The ocean?” Sabrina asked, folding her arms and leaning against the cupola.
“Mmhm. Once that’s in someone’s blood, there is nothing else.” The way Blythe lifted her face to the air and closed her eyes, Sabrina knew she’d experienced that kind of heartbreak. The kind where someone loved you… but not enough.
In that moment, Sabrina also knew she couldn’t leave all the kissing to her imagination. Not when she had such a perfect creature beside her.
So, she closed the distance between them, leaned in, and let her lips find Blythe’s.
Enjoy, Miranda’s note had said. Sure. Why the hell not?
When Blythe’s eyes fluttered open, Sabrina knew all hell was about to break loose.
Chapter Six
Salt. That was the first thing she’d expected to taste, and she’d been right. A fine layer of it clung to Blythe’s lips, mingling with the sweetness of the ice cream she must have eaten. She would have continued if Blythe’s eyes hadn’t opened so suddenly. Sabrina drew back, but stood her ground, waiting for a reaction.
“What was that for?” Blythe whispered. Her fingers lifted and touched her lips, a gesture that made Sabrina’s heart leap. “I mean, I thought you really didn’t want me here, even when you decided to go along with the whole publicity thing. But that was pretty… welcoming.”
“I couldn’t help it. You’re so beautiful and I don’t just mean how you look.” This time, Sabrina let her words come first, before she could think them through or make sure they sounded okay in her head. Or, worse, stuff them down deep inside and save them for her writing. “You’re everything I’ve ever looked for in a person and it’s killing me that you’re here, that Miranda’s the one who got to you first, that you even looked her way in the first place.”
Blythe’s hand lifted and settled on Sabrina’s cheek, a soft touch that made her want to lean in for more. “Oh, Sabrina. If you only knew…” Now it was Blythe who leaned in for a kiss, who made Sabrina’s lips her own.
Sabrina had always thought there was a special place reserved in hell for women who stole their sister’s or best friend’s love interests. She’d been even more certain that Miranda was going to it for the times she’d done that to Sabrina. Now Sabrina was sure she’d end up there, too.
It would be so worth it if Blythe kept going, though. Sabrina would brave anything to hold onto this feeling. It was familiar, yet foreign. The last time she’d allowed herself to dare hope was years ago. Because in her life, there was no room for hope as far as love was concerned.
It doesn’t have to be love, a little voice whispered from somewhere inside her. It could just be companionship, fun, something that feels good without the potential to turn you inside out. Try it. Maybe you’ll like it.
A summer fling? What was she – sixteen?
Still, she’d already decided to pretend to have a relationship, practically the same thing as a fling, and she thought she might sell her soul to keep feeling this damn good. Her arms wrapped around Blythe, holding her close. Such a perfect fit. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to have this in the here and now, until August, until everyone went back to their normal, non-summer lives.
They broke apart and stared at one another. Hope lit Blythe’s eyes and Sabrina knew she couldn’t say no to that. Wanting was a two-way street and, as far as Sabrina could see, Blythe was giving her the green light.
“Do you want to walk with me tomorrow?” Sabrina asked, still holding her close. She wasn’t ready to lose Blythe’s radiant warmth just yet. “I can show you the things no one ever bothers to look for on Martha’s Vineyard.”
Blythe’s smile was bright, her eyes crinkling with it. “Yes, please.”
“For now, I think I’m going to say goodnight.” Sabrina let her arms drop to her sides, even though her fingers twitched, eager to re-enfold Blythe in her embrace. “I’ve got to get a little more work done, but stay up here as long as you like.”
She hurried back downstairs before Blythe could say anything and locked herself in the master bedroom. One n
ot-cold-enough shower later, Sabrina turned the hurricane of thoughts roiling inside her into another chapter of her next novel.
Falling into bed didn’t stop the thoughts, but at least committing them to the written word gave her some clarity.
****
For the first time in longer than she remembered, Sabrina woke up excited about her day. It wasn’t that her quiet life didn’t make her happy. She loved it. Today, though, she had something new to look forward to, and she couldn’t wait to start her morning.
Blythe was waiting for her in the kitchen, looking lovely in a pale blue sundress with wide shoulder straps, an empire waist, and a skirt that reached her ankles. If the ocean took human form, it would be Blythe. She could give Venus a run for her money.
“Love the sandals,” Sabrina remarked, gesturing at the strappy white shoes.
“Thanks. I like yours better, though. They look much more comfortable.”