His Sleeping Beauty

by Carol Grace

  Personally he thought it was possible the guests had been imbibing too much, playing ball and jumping around the pool in a careless way. They were his clients, not his friends, if that was any consolation to him. They weren’t all people he’d hang out with if he hadn’t handled their divorces. On the other hand, why didn’t she know how to swim? He was going to rectify that starting tomorrow.

  The party went on for just a short time. The margaritas were still available, the food was still plentiful, but a few people had left and others were saying goodbye, as if they’d been waiting for his report before taking off, and were now blowing air kisses all around.

  He was just as glad. He’d had enough of schmoozing, enough of empty chatter and pretending everything was fine. He couldn’t get Sarah out of his mind. She’d looked so vulnerable, felt so fragile in his arms, but back in her room she’d bounced back, and had been well enough to order him out. She had guts. Imagine being pushed into a pool when you couldn’t swim and recovering so fast. At least he thought she’d recovered. At soon as everyone left, he’d go back and make sure she was okay.

  But when he knocked on her back door an hour later, there was no answer. He let himself in, walked up the stairs and stood in the doorway. She was lying on her side, and breathing evenly. He heaved a sigh of relief.

  It was dusk, but from the pale beams of the night-light, he could see her face was flushed, her eyelashes shadowing her cheek. He stood there for a long moment, the faint smell of eucalyptus in the air. Oh, yes, the nuts from the tree on her bedside table. He picked them up and inhaled the fragrance. Hadn’t she noticed? Hadn’t she wondered how they’d gotten there?

  He was jarred by the ringing of her phone.

  He raced down the stairs and grabbed the phone from the kitchen wall. Maybe it was her aunt.

  “I’m calling for Sarah,” said a woman’s voice.

  “She’s uh…can I take a message?”

  “Who’s this?”

  “A neighbor.”

  “I see. You can tell her her mother called. Just checking to see how she is.”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s here, but she’s asleep.”

  “Asleep? It’s only eight o’clock.”

  “If it’s urgent, I can wake her.”

  “No, no, it’s all right. What did you say your name was?”

  Max grinned. A strange man answering the phone. Her daughter asleep. No wonder she was worried.

  “Max,” he said. “I live next door. I’ll tell her you called.”

  “Thank you.”

  He hung up, wrote a note for Sarah and left it on her kitchen counter. Then he went home and sat on his patio, smoking a cigar and thinking. If she walked tonight, he wanted to be there.

  Chapter Four

  The phone rang shrilly and wakened Sarah with a start for the second morning in a row. This time she knew exactly where she was. What she didn’t know was who would be calling her at seven on a Sunday morning. She felt groggy and very naked, the 300-count cotton sheets brushing against her bare skin every time she moved. It was all so strange and unfamiliar. Then it all came back. The pool, the accident, the water, the party and Max. She clutched the sheet to her chest before picking up the phone.

  “Sarah, is anything wrong?” her mother asked.

  Nothing’s wrong, I almost drowned, that’s all. She could just imagine her mother’s overreaction to that. “Of course not, why are you calling so early?” She was aware of how crabby she sounded, but couldn’t control herself. It was all those years of being coddled. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was a grown-up, on her own. It was time to put a stop to it.

  “I called last night and a strange man answered the phone. He said you were asleep.”

  “That’s right. I was. I went to bed early.” But why did a strange man answer the phone? Max. That’s who it was. Why had he answered her phone? “And the strange man? Nobody you know. Just Aunt Mary’s next door neighbor paying a neighborly visit.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right? You always get up early.”

  “I have to go now, Mom.” She searched her brain for an excuse to hang up. Then, instead of shielding her mother from the truth, she said boldly, “I have a swimming lesson today.”

  “A swimming lesson?” Her mother’s voice rose in alarm the way she knew it would. “You don’t swim. You can’t do sports. It’s too risky.”

  “I know I don’t swim. That’s the problem. It’s about time I learned. It’s about time I took some risks.”

  “But Sarah…”

  Warning bells rang. Echoes of the past. Her mother’s voice.

  You can’t swim.

  Mustn’t run.

  Don’t go out.

  Stay home.

  Indoors.

  You’re different. Not like other kids.

  Sarah took a deep breath. “I haven’t had an attack for months, no years. I’m fine. It’s time I made some changes in my life.” Nothing drastic, of course. Just a swimming lesson. A vision of her volunteer swimming teacher came to mind. The man with the gray eyes and mouthwatering body. Imagining him in the pool with her. Her mouth went dry. With shaking hands, she reached for the glass of water on her bedside stand.

  Maybe he hadn’t meant it. Maybe he was just worried she’d sue him for negligence. Maybe…Enough maybes. Just her mother’s admonition was enough to make up her mind. She was over twenty-five years old. Her asthma was under control. Oh, she’d never be like everyone else. But she could come a little closer.

  Her parents were still worried about her. Their concern made her feel claustrophobic. Which made her feel guilty. They loved her. They doted on her. But she was too old to be doted on. She would take a swimming lesson. She might not be able to learn how to swim at her advanced age, but by heaven, she’d try.

  “Got to run now Mom. I have to buy a swimsuit.” She hung up quickly before her mother could start in again.

  When she returned from the mall with a two-tone suit, a white terry cover-up and a pedicure, she wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Change into her suit and knock on Max’s door? Lean over the fence and see where he was? Go back to work and wait for him to make another offer?

  While she was thinking it over, she put the suit on and stood in front of Aunt Mary’s full-length mirror. She frowned at her reflection. Why had she let the saleswoman talk her into anything with a low neckline and high-cut legs? She sure didn’t look like anyone who was at the party yesterday. All those beautiful people turning bronze under the hot sun. In contrast, she was white and skinny. All the more reason to get out and absorb some Vitamin D, right?

  No time like the present. Before she could change her mind, she wrapped herself in her terry cover-up, poured herself a glass of lemonade, grabbed a big straw hat from her aunt’s closet and her book on the California rancheros and headed outside to Aunt Mary’s hammock. Before she faced anyone, including her neighbor, she might even take off her hat and robe and get a little color in her cheeks so she didn’t look so anemic.

  She glanced across the fence, but all was quiet at Max’s house. No sound. No movement. She felt a little letdown, for no reason at all. The plan was to get outside into the elements and absorb a few rays before she saw him again. Of course she might not see him again. Ever.

  Maybe he offered to help every woman he met. Just a reflex action on his part. She really knew nothing about the handsome neighbor, except for what he did for a living. She couldn’t believe he had to deal with failure every day in his work. No matter what he said about it, it had to have an effect on his psyche. On the other hand, he must be good at it to be able to afford to live where he did. Maybe that’s all he cared about. The money.

  The sun was warm. The air was still. Sarah stretched her legs out in front of her and studied her startlingly bright red toenails, wondering what had possessed her to do something so out of character. Then she read a few pages about Secundino Robles, a handsome blu
e-eyed native Californio who was the Don Juan of his day in the nineteenth century, sweeping many eager young settler women off their feet. Her eyes grew heavy. She closed the book. The hammock rocked gently.

  When she woke from a dream about a romantic swash-buckling cowboy who spent his life racing around the countryside visiting brothels, cantinas and gambling houses, the sun was low in the sky. Her skin felt prickly and her mouth was dry. Not only that, but she felt like she’d been intimately involved with one of those cowboys.

  What was so amazing was that he looked a little bit like the man next door, with his gray eyes, broad shoulders and all. And oh yes, a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. She pressed her hand against her heart to see if it was really beating so fast. It was. Ridiculous. It was just a dream. Such adventurous men didn’t exist in today’s world. If they did, she hadn’t met any.

  Once again she felt a sense of displacement. She looked around for a long moment, lost in another century, where wild men on stolen horses carried loaded flintlocks, and ardently pursued women who flirted shamelessly and definitely without their parents’ approval from behind rawhide window coverings.

  She often dreamed about the past. Especially when she was in the middle of a project. But she’d never had erotic dreams before, never felt the dreams were so real. Or the men were so real.

  She shook her head to try to clear it. She was not a damsel in love with a caballero. Only a twenty-first century history buff who lived most of the time in another world. Today she’d done something completely out of character. Besides buying a swimsuit and getting a pedicure, she’d taken a nap for once in her life. She never napped in hammocks or anywhere else for that matter. On the other hand, she never fell into swimming pools, either. She’d never been rescued before or pursued by a dashing horse thief. She wasn’t the type to inspire that kind of bravado. But she’d been saved yesterday from a watery accident and she’d been carried off by her swashbuckling neighbor. That much was real.

  But that was yesterday. Today he was nowhere to be seen. She yawned and got up out of the hammock. Still no activity in the yard next door. So he hadn’t really meant to help her. She’d bought a swimsuit for nothing. She felt cold and empty. She needed a cup of tea, that’s all, not a swimming lesson.

  She wrapped her terry robe tightly around her and headed for her house. Even barefoot, her feet felt heavy. She told herself to get back to real life. She was out of her league and she didn’t know how to play games. Nor did she want to learn. The kind of people at her neighbor’s party were not the kind of people she wanted to know.

  Before she reached her door, she glanced casually toward the house next door. There he was, leaning against the redwood fence, arms crossed, with a grin on his face as if he’d been there for hours watching her. She stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Max called. “Where’ve you been? Come on over. It’s time for your lesson.”

  “How…how long have you been standing there?” she asked, clutching her robe tightly around her waist.

  “Not long. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to wake you.” He flung the gate open and stood there waiting. He was bare-chested for the second day in a row, impossibly good-looking in a pair of drawstring swim shorts. She swallowed hard and averted her gaze.

  What could she do? Follow her instincts and run into her aunt’s house? Make up an excuse or say she’d changed her mind? The one thing she couldn’t do was to tell the truth and say she’d lost her nerve. That she was afraid, not so much of the water, although that was a problem, but of having him hold her up in the water and watch her flail around helplessly, gasping for breath and sputtering like yesterday. The memories of kids on the playground staring at her when she’d have an asthma attack, then turning their heads and shunning her would always be a part of her past. If she struggled in the water, and of course she would, then he’d know for sure what an incompetent, nonathletic wimp she really was. The good thing was he’d never guess she’d dreamed about him. No, not really him, someone else who looked like him but came from another era.

  He’d seen her stripped down, without her clothes, he knew she couldn’t swim, but he had no idea how inept she was at anything physical. He must realize how different she was from the people at his party with their muscles and tans? Or how far apart her world was from theirs? Of course. It must be obvious.

  She was making too much of this. It was a swimming lesson. That’s all. One lesson. She could handle it. And if she couldn’t, she could leave. He was only doing it to be nice. As a favor to Aunt Mary. As soon as he realized how truly dorky she was, how uncoordinated and unaccustomed to physical activities, he’d give up, give in and let her go back to her world, the world of books, the world of long ago.

  She pasted a smile on her lips and walked through the gate, brushing past him in her fluffy robe, getting a tantalizing whiff of some elusive male scent like citrus aftershave. She tossed her robe onto a deck chair as if she’d been doing it all her life, and sat on the edge of the pool where the water was about three feet deep. Then she turned her head in his direction, determined to go through with this. After all, yesterday she’d nearly drowned. She couldn’t let that happen again.

  “Never had a swim lesson?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “We’re even,” he said. “I’ve never given one.”

  This was her chance. Get up gracefully and say thanks, but no thanks. She could even make up a story about signing up for swim lessons at the YWCA in town. But before she could move a muscle or say a word, he’d jumped in the water and was standing in front of her, his skin smooth and wet, looking up at her, with his hands covering hers. His eyelashes were wet, his eyes gleamed silver in the fading sunlight. She shivered with anticipation. She couldn’t learn to swim. Not from him. Not from someone who looked like George Clooney.

  “Cold? The water’s warmer than the air. Come on in.” He tugged at her wrists and she gave in and slid into the water, feeling surprisingly graceful. With his hands still holding her wrists, he pulled her into slightly deeper water until her shoulders were covered. She swallowed hard, trying not to panic as the water lapped at her neck. He gave her a reassuring smile and she gripped his hands tightly.

  He was right about one thing, the water was warmer than the air. And even though she was in deeper water than she’d ever been before, she felt strangely secure with him holding her hands. Until he made her put her head underwater. Then she felt her heart pound. It took her three tries before she could actually keep her head under for longer than two seconds and open her eyes to a blue, watery world.

  He put his face under the water and grinned at her. Even distorted he was undeniably handsome in a rugged way. He made a face at her, wiggling his eyebrows and waving his hands. She laughed and choked and he scooped her up and carried her to the shallow end.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she insisted, realizing that this was the second time in two days he’d picked her up and carried her to safety. The second time in two days when he’d made her feel safe and protected. This time she had no excuse to throw her arms around his neck and bury her face against his chest. But she wanted to. Oh, yes, she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit that she wanted to badly.

  “You did great,” he said, letting her slide out of his arms. “You’re a natural.”

  She shook the water out of her ears. “A natural coward.”

  “No way. After what happened yesterday, most people wouldn’t go near the water. Are you sure you’ve never taken lessons before?”

  She ran one hand through her wet hair. “Flattery will get you anywhere. If I did well, it’s because of you. Are you sure you’ve never taught swimming before?”

  He shook his head and she turned to go, eyeing the deck of the pool and the gate and the safety of her aunt’s house next door. She’d had a lesson. She’d gotten into the water. And she hadn’t drowned. That was enough for one day. “T
hanks.”

  “Wait a minute. We’re just getting started.”

  She sighed. She should have known she couldn’t get off so easily. The next thing she knew he had her floating on her back with his arms around her, supporting her body. She was afraid he’d let go, but more afraid of enjoying the sensation of his arms around her. The slightly scary sensation of being afloat in the water coupled with the excitement of his body so close to hers.

  “Relax,” he said.

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered. How could she relax with one of his hands brushing the underside of her breasts and the other cupping her bottom. It was too intimate, too close, too terrifying. Then he wanted her to turn over and put her head in the water.

  “I can’t,” she said, twisting her head to look him in the eye.

  “Okay,” he said, uprighting her gently, and brushing his hands together. “Lesson One is over. You’re making great progress.”

  She straightened and planted her feet firmly on the turquoise pool bottom. “Great progress?” Despite the chills running up her spine, she chuckled. “Either you have low expectations, or you’re a born cheerleader.”

  He grinned. “See you tomorrow. Lesson Two.”

  “Tomorrow?” she said faintly. “So soon? Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “If I can fit it into my schedule, so can you,” he said.

  “Right,” she said, walked up the steps to the edge of the pool and grabbed her robe. “Thanks again.”

  “Wait,” he said, still standing waist-deep in the water. “Your mother called last night. Did you get the message?”

  “Yes, I did. She called me back this morning. I wish you hadn’t answered the phone. Now she’s curious. She wants to know who you are.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “What did you tell her?”

  “The truth. That you’re Aunt Mary’s neighbor. I didn’t want to tell my parents about my, uh, accident. I appreciate your keeping quiet, too. They’d only worry.”