by Lea Coll
“Yeah, I saw that email,” Jack said. “Did you work out your differences?”
“I think so. I’ve apologized to him.”
“Have you seen Kristen since you’ve been back?” Samantha asked.
I looked up at Samantha, surprised at her perceptiveness. “That time at brunch and then one other time. She said Sadie Cole works for her. Do you know her?”
Samantha hesitated with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Yes.”
The cautious way she said yes, and the way she was acting, had me wondering what the history was there. “Do you know her well?”
“Not exactly.” She placed her fork down on her plate.
“She did some shady shit at Ashley’s work last year that got her fired,” Jack said, disgusted.
“Wow. Really? Kristen seems to think highly of her. She said she’s a hard worker and the kids love her.”
Jack shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust her. She lied, messed with files, but I don’t know all of the details.”
“Yeah, it was bad, but Ashley seems to feel badly for her. I don’t understand it because Sadie screwed her over. It was Ashley’s files she messed with,” Samantha said.
“I’ll keep that in mind, but I know better than anyone how people deserve a second chance,” I said.
“When did you grow up, sis?” Jack asked and I stuck my tongue out.
Samantha laughed. “She clearly hasn’t.”
Lucy
Sitting on white leather couches in a semi-circle around a platform with a large three-hundred and sixty-degree mirror with the rest of Samantha’s wedding party—Ashley, Emma, Stella and her mother, I was happy to be here. Working closely with Samantha, she’d become the sister I never had, and a friend.
One of the assistants passed out glasses of champagne to our party. It had seemed like a good idea at the time I’d booked, but now I took one sniff of the glass and my stomach rolled. I placed it on the side table. It was only eleven A.M., which was way too early to be drinking anyway.
“What’s going on with you and Wyatt?” Stella asked.
I blanched at her question. “Nothing, why?”
“I saw you two outside the gym the other day. You looked close.” She grinned as if she’d caught us.
“Oh, we’re just friends.” I was saved from answering more questions when Samantha came out modeling a ball gown-style dress, which looked amazing on her tall frame but at the same time seemed to overwhelm her.
I glanced over at Samantha’s mother, whose mouth turned into a grimace. “That’s not it.”
I agreed, but she wasn’t very tactful about it. I approached Samantha and placed my hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think this style is right on you. It overtakes your beauty.”
Samantha nodded. “I agree.”
The next was a mermaid style, which looked stunning on her.
Stella sighed. “This is the exact style I want.”
One look at Samantha’s face and I could tell she didn’t like it.
“Keep looking. I hate this style,” Mrs. Miller said.
“It’s a mermaid style. It’s very popular,” Molly said.
“I don’t think Samantha likes this one, Molly. Can we see something else?” I asked.
Samantha shot me a grateful smile as Molly steered her back to the dressing room.
Molly pulled a trumpet for the next style and I knew if Samantha didn’t like the mermaid she wouldn’t like this one.
When Molly looked at Mrs. Miller, she simply said, “No.”
I thought it was a mistake to defer to Samantha’s mother even if she was paying. I didn’t want her to think she had sole approval over the dress.
The next option was an empire-waisted dress, which was cute but on Samantha’s slender body, it made her look fifteen.
“It’s cute but do you want to look ‘cute’ on your wedding day?” Stella took another sip of champagne.
“I agree. She looks too young in this one. She needs to look like an elegant woman. Do you have anything that will do that back there?” Mrs. Miller addressed Molly, but I saw Samantha flinch at the implication she needed to be made into an elegant woman.
“Can we try a sheath, Molly?” I hoped it would look amazing on her because Samantha was not enjoying this.
When she walked out in the sheath it was gorgeous, but I could see Samantha considering it in the three-way mirror pensively.
“Oh, that’s so elegant, Samantha.” Ashley stood up to get a closer look.
I approached and asked Samantha gently, “Do you like this one?”
“It’s beautiful, but—”
I examined her in the mirror carefully. “There’s something missing.”
Samantha shot me a grateful look. “Yes.”
“Can I suggest a dress?” I directed my question at Samantha and Molly, purposely not addressing her mother. I wanted it clear I thought this decision was Samantha’s.
Samantha sighed. “Yes, please. This is more exhausting and frustrating then I thought it would be.”
“I saw the perfect dress when we walked in.” I actually loved it for myself, but I had no reason to wear a wedding dress anytime soon, if ever.
“Okay. I trust you.” Samantha smiled, lifting the skirt so she could step off the platform.
I turned to the assistant, Molly, and said, “Can you pull the dress in the front for me? It’s a sweetheart top, A-line skirt, and lace overlay.”
“Good choice. That dress was ordered but the bride never came back to pay for it. Let me get it,” Molly said.
I smiled. Perfect. Samantha would be able to buy this one if it was close to her size and have it altered in time for her wedding.
I waited with the other girls as they talked about which style dress they’d like for their weddings when Samantha walked out in the dress I’d picked—sweetheart neckline, cinched at the waist, lace overlay over the entire dress as it flared to the floor. Molly had already added heeled sandals and a tiara with a veil that hung to her fingertips, which meant she thought it was contender. The whole effect was stunning.
I could see Samantha walking down the aisle in that dress and exchanging vows on the dock. I stood up as she stepped onto the raised platform my hand over my mouth as the girls continued to talk and laugh around me. They hadn’t seen her yet. When she stared at herself in the mirror, the laughter stopped, and Ashley gasped, “Oh my God that’s it. That’s your dress.”
Samantha turned to see the dress from every angle, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Molly grabbed a mirror so she could see the full effect of the tiny buttons which lined the back of the dress. It was delicate, feminine and one-hundred percent Samantha.
“Is this the one?” Molly asked quietly.
Samantha started crying. “Yes. It’s so beautiful. I never imagined anything like this.” She turned to me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I pulled her in for a hug and whispered, “I knew this would be perfect on you.” This is what was missing from planning the happy hour parties at my job—a sense of accomplishment in making someone happy. At work, my job was to create an over-the-top party to create buzz for our business. I wasn’t creating a memory for someone.
“It’s not too much for a wedding on the dock?” she asked, worriedly looking at each of our faces. Everyone had come to stand in front of the platform, watching her.
“No. Definitely not. You can wear whatever you want on your wedding day,” Stella said.
“What do you think?” Then Samantha looked pensively at her mother who was still seated on the couch.
Mrs. Miller remained on the couch but a smile tugged at her lips. “You’ll make a stunning bride. I love it.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. Thank God. I wasn’t sure if anything would meet her mother’s approval. Either she really liked it or seeing the happiness on her daughter’s face moved her.
After Samantha and her mother took care of paying for the dress and scheduling alteration
s, we walked out of the store to go to lunch. Samantha touched my arm. “Thank you. I’m so glad you were here. Your taste is impeccable.”
Samantha’s words made me feel like I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. “Thanks.”
“You could do this for a living, you know.”
“What? Pick out bride’s dresses?” I tilted my head to consider her.
“No, be a wedding or an event planner. You’re organized, efficient, and you have an eye for style and design. You knew exactly how I felt about each dress without me saying anything.”
“Oh, that’s not what I want to—”
“Have you been happy here the last few weeks?” she asked, watching my face carefully.
I considered her words for a minute. I felt residual rejection from being fired and panic at not finding a new job yet, but oddly enough I was content here—for now anyway. I’m sure I’d get the itch to leave soon. “I’m happy I could be here for this—for you.”
Samantha smiled. “I am too.” She reached out and touched my arm. “Just keep your options open.”
I knew the next step in my job search was to network, to show my portfolio to different businesses, but I didn’t want to return to the city and leave Samantha in the lurch. She’d asked for my help and I wanted to be true to my word. I was done putting my dreams above everyone else’s.
Lucy
On Sunday morning, I waited with nervous anticipation for Wyatt on my parents’ porch, sipping coffee. I needed to clear the air with Wyatt and maybe he had the same idea. He’d texted to remind me to bring my camera and a bathing suit, but he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. I liked that this morning was a surprise. I liked that he was unpredictable even though I grew up with him and I should know everything there was to know about him. But I didn’t. Not anymore.
I pulled my camera out of my storage boxes and tried to familiarize myself with the settings. I fiddled a bit, taking a few pictures, but the fog made it difficult. I became so engrossed in getting the picture I wanted, I startled when Wyatt’s Jeep pulled down the gravel drive. The roof and doors were off just like they’d been when we’d ridden around town in high school. As kids it was cool and freeing. I stepped off the porch excited to capture that feeling again.
He pulled the Jeep to a stop in front of me and I climbed inside. It reminded me of mornings before school when he’d pick me up—my relationship with Wyatt had been consistent and reliable. He was still reliable but with this added sense of adventure. “Morning.”
“You’re looking more awake this morning.”
“I enjoy getting up early, especially when I don’t need to go into an office. Where are we going?” I asked, tucking my flying hair behind my ear.
“Assateague Island.”
“Nice.” It was a bit of a drive to get there, so we’d be spending the whole day together. I loved going there as a girl to see the wild horses. Sometimes, we’d be disappointed and only see them from a distance but other times they’d walk right up to us and I’d be so excited I’d forget to take a picture.
“Figured you could take pictures of the horses. We could hike and swim. Make a day of it.”
Perfect. He wanted to spend the day with me. It was the perfect date, but it wasn’t. That was what I wanted to talk to him about today. But it would have to wait until we were at the park. The road noise and wind made communication difficult and I didn’t want to yell.
Another hour later we pulled into the visitor’s center. We got out of his Jeep, went to the bathroom, and grabbed maps of the park.
We drove over the bridge onto the island down a long narrow road covered with fresh white sand, brush, and trees with water in the distance. I could see the horses from a distance. “Look, Wyatt!”
He pulled over to a lookout area where a few other vehicles were stopped to watch the horses.
I adjusted the zoom on my camera and started taking shots. There were four horses—pintos, browns, all of them beautiful and wild. It took me a while to get all of the photos I wanted. When I was done, I noticed Wyatt leaning against the Jeep, arms crossed over his chest.
“Thanks for waiting.”
“No problem. This is why I brought you here.”
“To take pictures?” I had to admit it felt good to pick up a camera again. I liked the weight of it my hands, the desire to get the picture and feel just right.
“That and to spend the day. I wanted you to see what you’ve been missing.”
“Baltimore is only three hours from here.” I watched his face as he drove, wondering what he thought I was missing.
“Yeah, but how often did you ever come back?”
I looked away without responding because we both knew the answer to his question.
Wyatt
I paid the toll to enter the separate state park and we drove slowly around looking for more horses. Assateague’s beach was quiet since Ocean City was only a few miles away and it was the natural draw for tourists with its restaurants, boardwalk, and hotels. Only those camping in tents could stay overnight so the island was untouched. We parked and got out to explore, and the sand was white and soft under my feet, the docks floated on top of the water, and tiny buildings were nestled amongst some trees.
There was no one around as I watched Lucy take pictures of the water and the structures. I loved watching her work—the deep furrow of concentration on her brow as she examined each picture, made some adjustments to the camera, and took more. She was so focused she tuned everything out, including me, which was sexy.
I wanted to remind her of what she had been passionate about when we were together. She used to take a small camera with her everywhere. It wasn’t as sophisticated as the one she had now, but she still took the same care and attention with each photo. Back then, getting the perfect picture was so satisfying to her. I thought for sure she’d eventually change her mind and decide to stay in Chestertown. There was so much on the Eastern Shore to photograph. She could work freelance and send pictures to magazines or newspapers, but she never considered that option.
“Why didn’t you ever make photography a career?”
Lucy glanced up at me in surprise as if she’d forgotten I was standing there. “Oh, I majored in photography, but my advisor suggested concentrating on graphic design since that was the future of images.”
“True, but there’s still something so powerful about the perfect photograph.”
She looked down at the picture on her screen. She had captured the long narrow dock as it bobbed over the water perfectly.
I leaned over her lightly laying my hand on her opposite shoulder to brace myself. “Like that. You captured the feel of this place—untouched, serene, beautiful.”
Her cheeks flushed as she turned slightly toward me bringing her lips a few inches from mine. “You think so?”
“I know so. You have a gift.” When I looked at her picture it was a replica of what I felt standing next to her watching the scene. I lightly squeezed her shoulder and straightened so I wouldn’t be tempted to breach the distance between us and kiss her. The last time I gave in we fucked on a boat. I didn’t want that again. I only wanted her as a girlfriend, a lover, not a one-night stand or to fuck each other out of our systems.
My feelings for her always transcended anything I’d ever felt for anyone else. Even if she thought she only wanted sex, I’d resist until she wanted more. It was then that it hit me that I didn’t just want to show her what she was missing about our hometown, but I wanted her to see me, us, what we were, and what we could be. We could be everything.
“Thanks, Wyatt. I guess no one’s ever said that before about my photography. I love to create things and I guess I view that as creating the perfect design, but photography is similar—I’m capturing the feel of a place.”
“Can you send me that picture?” Whether I wanted the reminder of this spot, the feeling I had when I was with her, or the feel of this location I wasn’t sure. I just knew I had to have it.
She smiled softly. “Of course.”
After I drove down each offshoot of the main road, explored every nook and cranny there was, I drove to the main beach area, where tents dotted the beach. I took out a bag of beach supplies from the back and we walked toward the beach, fighting the strong winds. Red flags dotted the dunes indicating it was too dangerous to swim today.
I spread out two large towels on the sand. “We could still see horses. They come onto the beach sometimes.”
The wind blew Lucy’s long dark hair as she pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her in that same red triangle bikini top from our boat ride and cut off jean shorts. She sank gracefully to the towel, tan legs stretched out in front of her, and leaned back on her hands, which naturally pushed out her breasts. I couldn’t look away from the globes that threatened to spill out.
“I’ve missed the beach. Thank you for bringing me.”
I tore my attention from her perfect breasts and sat on the towel next to her. Shouldn’t it be awkward to spend the day with an ex-girlfriend, one who dumped me? Instead, it was easy and comfortable. “It’s good having you home. I’ve missed you.”
I felt her gaze on the side of my face as I watched the water, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. I couldn’t believe I’d admitted that. I’d held onto so much anger when she left, but after being in her presence a few times it was gone.
“I missed you too.”
I looked at her then, trying to discern if she was remembering making love for the first time. It wasn’t perfect. We were young, but it had been our friendship—our connection—that made it memorable. Remembering back was bittersweet because she broke up with me only a couple months later. I thought we had forever and she had already been planning her escape.
Being with her was churning up all of these emotions, making me want things, want her, but I needed to know what she was thinking. I wouldn’t be blindsided again. “I wanted to talk to you about the other day.”
“Yeah, I did too.” Lucy sat up and brushed sand off of her hands.