I shook my head. "No, thank you."
"Come on," he urged. "You'll have fun."
"How will I get to the boat? I'll get soaked to the bone and shrink to death."
He laughed and hopped out. He was wearing a tight black bathing suit and a light blue polo shirt, which was getting wet, but he didn't mind. He pulled the boat closer until the bow hit the sand. Then he took off his shirt and threw it into the boat before he beckoned.
"Come on. Ill make sure you don't get too wet."
"I don't think so."
"You don't look too happy," he said. "A ride in this thing will drive your gloom away. You have the Adam Jackson one hundred percent guarantee."
I looked toward the house. Aunt Sara and Uncle Jacob would have a fit if they saw me get into the boat, but Adam's shoulders gleamed invitingly in the afternoon sunlight. I stood up, my heart thumping.
Why not? I thought. I'm not a prisoner here. "Okay," I said impulsively.
"Good," he cried. "Hurry up. The Atlantic Ocean isn't exactly a bathtub yet," he said laughing and pretending to be shivering in the water.
I rolled up my dungarees as high as I could, cradled my sneakers and socks in my arms, and then stepped into the water. The tide kept rising, however, and I screamed and retreated. He laughed and rushed forward, scooping me into his arms before I could protest. Then he carried me to the boat as if I weighed nothing and gently lifted me over the edge. Once I was in, he pushed the boat out, pulled himself up and swung over.
"See. Barely a drop on you."
"I can't believe I'm doing this."
"What's the big deal?" he said shrugging. "Boats, water, fishing. . . they're as common as breathing to us Cape Codders, and now that you're becoming one, too, you have to get used to it all or risk forever being known as an outsider: And you know how we treat outsiders," he said. He widened his eyes as though that would be a fate worse than death. He laughed and started the motor.
The boat lifted and fell with the waves so sharply, I had trouble standing.
"Isn't it too rough today? I feel as if I'm in an egg beater."
"Call this rough? Hardly." He started the engine. Then he patted the seat beside him. "Sit up here so you get a good view. I'll even let you steer if you want."
"Really?"
"Sure. Come on, sit," he urged and I did so. "I haven't been out much myself this year," he said. "I'm glad I had the desire to do so today." He turned to me with a twinkle in his soft blue eyes. "It wasn't just an accident finding you on the beach, you know."
"Oh?"
"It's fate, what's meant to be," he said with a wink.
And then he gunned the engine so fast and hard, the front of the boat lifted and we hit the water with a hard bounce.
I screamed. I had to cling to him, but he didn't seem to mind.
"Do you have to go so fast?" I cried. The spray was hitting us as d the wind made my blouse flap so much, I thought it would tear off. My eyes were tearing, too.
"Of course," he said. "You want to get a thrill, don't you? Going slow is not for people like us."
People like us? I thought. Who did he think I was?
The boat bounced so hard each time it hit the water, I was afraid it might fall apart. My heart was pounding. Finally, he slowed down and told me to try steering myself. He slid over and I took the wheel. Then he pulled himself around, straddling me, and reached over my shoulders with both his arms to put his hands over mine.
"I'll show you how to do it first," he said, his cheek against my cheek. He was wearing some wonderful-smelling aftershave lotion. The water, the breeze, the scent of the ocean and his lotion made me dizzy. I felt myself spinning, but it was wonderful and exciting. For a while anyway, I could forget the secrets and the lies.
He accelerated slowly and I turned the wheel, im-pressed and fascinated with my power to direct the boat. I was so entranced with it that I didn't pay much attention to his lips moving over my ears and down my cheek.
"You're delicious," he suddenly said.
"What?" I pulled to the side to look at him. He was staring at me, those remarkable eyes drinking me in, then swallowing me down. I quickly fastened one of the buttons of my blouse that had opened, but my garments felt flimsy and transparent under his piercing gaze. It took my breath away. Without warning, the boat bounced sharply, tossing him into my lap. We both screamed and he recovered quickly enough to drop the speed and straighten the bow. We caught our breaths and the boat bobbed gently. This far away from shore, the water was calmer and more inviting.
"You have to keep your eyes on what you're doing," he said.
"And you have to keep yours in your head. I have pupil prints in places I'd rather keep
unblemished."
He laughed and leaned back. "You sure talk funny sometimes, but it's refreshing. All the girls here sound the same. Everything's groovy, know what I mean?"
I nodded.
"Why didn't you come to the party last night?" he asked. "I kept looking for you."
"I couldn't," I said. "I wanted to, but--"
"Your uncle and aunt wouldn't let you?"
"Something like that."
"I figured." He shook his head. "Must be hard for you. I bet you feel as if you're in some kind of a prison or a nunnery, huh?"
I didn't say anything.
"All the girls are jealous of you, you know."
"What? Why?"
"I heard them talking about you last night, saying how pretty you are."
"They did not."
"Swear," he said raising his hand. "It's true. You're about the prettiest girl I've seen and I've seen quite a few." He leaned toward me. "I've even gone out with college girls, but you've got that one-in-amillion look about you, the magic that makes for movie stars and models. I heard from the grapevine that your mother is a model. Now I understand."
I sat there with my mouth gaping open. I had never heard a boy in our school talk like this and certainly never about me.
"Wait a minute," he said before I could respond. He got up and went to a cabinet to take out a camera. "I'd like to get a few shots of you just the way you are, natural, the wind in your hair."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Just sit there. Steer the boat and be yourself." He aimed his camera and snapped pictures. "These will be worth something someday after you're famous."
I laughed and shook my head. "I am not so pretty. I have freckles and my ears are too big. I'll never become famous."
"Adam Jackson knows pretty women and I'm telling you, Melody, you're one of 'em. Don't argue with an expert." He kept on looking at me with that gleeful smile in his eyes. He was making me very nervous.
"Can I make it go faster again?" I asked.
"I knew you would want to. Just move the lever ahead slowly."
I did so, getting better at controlling the boat. He even gave me a compliment about it.
"You've got your sea legs," he said and ran his palm down the side of my right leg. "And they're really nice." He laughed at the look on my face. "You better get used to compliments, Melody. They're going to rain down on you like a hurricane as you get older and prettier."
The blood rushed to my face. Was he just saying these things or did he really mean them? He put his arm around my shoulder and helped steer with his other hand. He held me tighter, drawing me against him until I felt his breath on my cheek again and then the soft touch of his lips.
"I think you better take me back," I told him, my voice close to cracking. "My aunt will be turning over rocks looking for me." He laughed.
"Okay, but only if you promise to meet me tomorrow night about eight o'clock."
"Meet you? Where?"
He thought a moment.
"Meet me right there where I found you sitting, or are you afraid to walk the beach at night?"
"I'm not afraid," I said quickly. "It's just that--" "You might not be able to get out? Don't let them treat you like a child," he said, his eyes narrowed.
"I don't," I protested, but in my heart, I knew he was right.
"Then it's settled.Ill bring a radio and a blanket and something to drink."
"Something to drink?"
"Something to keep us warm. You've done that before, haven't you?" he asked.
"Sure," I said, not even positive what he meant. Was he going to bring a thermos of hot chocolate, coffee, tea, or did he mean whiskey?
"I thought so. You have a more sophisticated look about you. I'd like to hear what it was like growing up in West Virginia. My college friends tell me that girls from the coal mining towns know the score. The girls here like to think they're so sophisticated. They talk a good game, but when it comes right down to playing it, they're not home. You know what I mean?"
"No," I said,
"Sure you do."
"I'd better get back."
"Aye, aye, Captain," he replied sitting up quickly and saluting. I laughed as he hurriedly took the controls and turned the boat around. "You want me to put you back where you were or closer to the house?"
"Better put me back where I was," I said. "My aunt would turn inside out if she saw me riding in a motorboat, and my uncle would put a ball and chain on my ankle."
"The Logans are strange, and not because of what happened to Laura. They were strange long before that."
I wanted to see just how much he knew and how much the people here gossiped. "You mean about my mother and father?" I asked.
"No." He shook his head. "I don't know much about them, except what I was told in school. I'm sorry about your father. That must have been a terrible accident, too."
"It was."
"You've got a lot of good reason to be sad, Melody, but you're too beautiful to remain
melancholy long." He brought the boat as close to the shore as he had brought it before. My heart skipped beats when he smiled at me again. Then he hopped out. "Sit on the side," he ordered. "Don't worry. I won't drop you."
I clutched my sneakers and socks and did as he said. He scooped under my legs again, this time holding me tighter around the waist. Our faces were inches apart. I thought I would drown in his eyes. He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips.
"No fair," I said. "I'm trapped like a cat up a tree."
He laughed. "That's right. And if you don't kiss me back, I'll drop you in the ocean." He pretended to let go and I screamed. "Well?"
"All right, but just once," I said. This time, our kiss was long and his tongue moved between my lips, grazing mine. It sent a chill down my spine, but it wasn't unpleasant.
"I've got to get back," I said, practically whispering. My heart pounded so hard, I thought I wouldn't be able to get out the words.
"No problem," He gracefully moved through the water and set me down on dry land. "Until tomorrow night." His face turned serious. "I'll see you in school tomorrow, but I'd rather we kept this our little secret. If we don't we'll have company. I know these kids here. They can be pains in the rear end. Besides, I like secrets, don't you?"
"No," I said quickly and so firmly, he raised his eyebrows.
"Not even secrets of the heart?"
I didn't want to tell him that I had never really had any, so I just shrugged. He laughed. "Bet you just got a sea chest full of love secrets," he teased.
"You'd lose." I started backing away. "I have to go. Thanks for the ride."
He stood there, watching me walk quickly over the sand. Then he turned and waded through the water to his boat. I stopped to watch him accelerate and spin through the waves. I felt as if I had stepped in and out of a movie. He had been right about the boat ride. The dreariness that had washed over me had dried up with my tears. I had a new bounce in my step as I hurried over the beach toward my uncle and aunt's house, wondering if I would have the nerve to meet Adam Jackson tomorrow night.
"Where were you, honey?" Aunt Sara asked as soon as I entered the house. She was in the doorway of the living room. She looked at my sneakers and socks in my hand. I had simply forgotten to put them on or roll down my dungarees.
"I just took a walk on the beach," I said quickly.
"You shouldn't go anywhere without telling your aunt or me," I heard my uncle Jacob cry from behind her in the living room. "Your aunt shouldn't have to go looking for you, hear?"
"Yes," I said. "Sorry," I told Aunt Sara and ran up the stairs before she could ask or say anything else. Cary heard me pound the steps and came out of his room.
"You all right?" he asked as I turned down the hallway.
"Yes."
His eyes grew smaller with interest and he stepped closer, a textbook in his hand.
"I heard you run out, but by the time I put on my sneakers, you were over the hill. I figured you wanted to be alone, maybe to sort things out," he said.
"Sort things out?" I started to laugh. "It would be easier to unravel a bee hive."
He nodded and then his eyes widened with interest. "You look like you got some sun."
I couldn't keep my eyes from shifting guiltily away. Did he notice the flush on my face, the excitement in my eyes? Daddy used to say they were like little window-panes, with my thoughts as clear as newsprint.
"You were walking in the water?" Cary continued nodding at my sneakers in my hand and my rolled up dungarees. Tiny grains of sand were in between my toes.
"I'm tired," I said moving to my room. "I'm going to rest before dinner."
"Melody?"
I turned.
He held up the book.
"I was wondering if after dinner you might--"
"That's your English textbook?"
"Yes. We have a test tomorrow on clauses. The only clause I know is Santa Claus," he said glumly.
"It's not really hard. I'll show you some tricks my teacher in West Virginia showed me."
"Thanks."
"Where's May?"
"She's doing her homework, too," he said. I nodded and went into my room, softly closing the door behind me. For a few moments I stood there, reining in my emotions. I had gone from anger and sadness to excitement and thrills. I couldn't be more confused about this place, I thought. My family was hard and unpleasant, but May was sweet and hungry for love, and Cary . . . Cary was more sensitive and caring than he let on. The ocean could be cold and gray, and no thunderstorm in West Virginia was as frightening as the storm we had had the other night-- the nor'easter Cary called it. Yet today, the ocean was delightful, exciting and the beach was warm and inviting.
Didn't I hate it here? Didn't I want to just run away?
And yet, Adam Jackson's handsome face lingered before my eyes and his compliments echoed in my ears. Was I really as pretty as he said I was? I gazed at myself in the mirror. Was there as much potential beauty as he claimed he saw? Was he making up what he had told me the other girls thought of me? I didn't want to become conceited, and yet, I didn't want to underestimate myself and become some mousy creature with no self-confidence, terrified of life like . . . like Aunt Sara hovering in Uncle Jacob's dark shadow.
I sat at the vanity table and thought and then I gazed down at the pile of letters bound with a rubber band. They were Laura's letters from her boyfriend. I had no right to look at them, and yet, I couldn't help wondering what sort of a relationship they had had before their tragic end.
I took off the rubber band and opened the first envelope. The handwriting was pretty, an almost artistic script. The letter had been written on blue stationery.
Dearest Laura,
I had a wonderful time yesterday. I don't know how many times I've walked on that beach, but yesterday, with you, it suddenly seemed more beautiful than ever. I didn't mean to take you away from your work. I know Cary was upset with me for just appearing unexpectedly. When I get a chance, Ill apologize to him for stealing you away and leaving him with all the lobsters and fish.
But I'll never apologize for taking you anywhere. I'm glad you feel the same way about me that I feel about you. I've felt this for a long time, but I didn't have the courage to te
ll you. Don't ask me why I have it now. I think it's because of the way you smiled at me in the cafeteria that day. It gave me all the nerve I needed.
I'm not used to writing letters to girls or anyone. Actually, you're the first girl I've ever written a letter to, not counting my cousin Susie. 1 know it's hard for you to talk long on the telephone. Besides, it's kind of exciting receiving letters from you, too. I'm just nervous about mailing the letters and maybe having someone else read them. You know who. He never seems to be happy to see me around, even when I'm not taking you away from helping your father.
Maybe, when he feels about a girl the way I feel about you, hell be more understanding. I know what you meant when you said you were afraid of how you felt about me sometimes. It's a bit overwhelming, but I'm not ashamed of it and never will be. I hope you feel that, too. I promise, I'll try to control myself more, but you know what they say about promises lovers make. Just kidding, only, please don't hate me for loving you more than I should.
I like writing to you, Laura. I see your face in front of me as I think of the words. It makes me want to write to you all night. Until I see you, hold me in your heart.
Love, Robert
Tears filled my eyes. Would I ever have anyone love me as much as Robert Royce loved Laura? If they had something so beautiful, why did they have to die so tragically and so young? I sighed and thought about reading another letter, but there was a sharp knock on my door. I guiltily stuffed the letter back into the envelope.
"Yes?"
Cary entered. His gaze moved from me to the pile of letters and then back to me.
"My mother says you have a phone call. A girl friend from Sewell."
"Alice!" I jumped up. "Thanks."
I went downstairs quickly, forgetting that I still hadn't put on my sneakers and socks. This time, Uncle Jacob wasn't sitting near the phone, ready to listen. Aunt Sara held the receiver away from her as if it were a forbidden object that might contaminate her.
"Jacob doesn't approve of young people gossiping on the telephone," she whispered. "Don't be long."
"Thank you," I said and took the receiver. "Alice?"
"Hi. Was it all right for me to call now? Your aunt sounded upset."
"It's all right. I'm happy to hear from you so soon."
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