by Amber Burns
She took a sip of her wine and walked back inside.
“Let’s go relax inside.”
As we both sat down on the couch the power came back on, the lights that we had left on flickered and then burned brightly, and I heard the refrigerator and freezer hum back to life.
“Oh thank heavens,” she exhaled a huge sigh of relief, and jumped to her feet.
I watched as she walked to my Laptop and booted it up, switching on classical music.
“That’s better, the silence has been driving me insane, I hate silence,” she muttered.
She came back to sit next to me as Bach’s Cello suite no. 1 trilled to life in the background. She turned her back toward me and sank back to rest her head on my chest. I marveled at how much she was like a kitten, she loved physical contact, being touched, stroked and cuddled.
Once my dinner was ready I dished up enough for about six. When we sat down to eat, she folded her legs under her, sitting on the floor, and the moment I’d been dreading arrived.
“Tell me about your past Michel.”
My heart automatically started pounding, it was something I had been dreading, no matter how well I was aware of the fact that it was time I told her.
“Right, I do think you need to know about how I grew up and what my childhood and teenage years entailed. I never want you hearing things behind my back. I am terrified of how you’ll see me after I tell you though.”
“I grew up in Miami with my mother and father. School was a pain because I got bullied mercilessly. I ran away from home when I was thirteen, some friends I had were making money robbing local bottle-stores and twenty-four hour gas stations. When one of them got shot, I got much deeper into gangland Miami, and vanished all together from home presence. Where they could reach me before, they then couldn’t find me.”
We ate for a while in silence before I continued.
“I was fourteen when I stole a car, and at fifteen I shot a man who caught me trying to steal his. I was high at the time too. I am just glad I never got arrested. I don’t know if he died, that man, to this day, and I’m ashamed of that, trust me.”
I watched her face for the fearful reaction, for the hatred to take shape there, but I saw nothing but pity. Her brow furrowed.
“What went on in your home to make you run away Michel? What drives a child of thirteen to leave and to do things like that?” She asked as she placed her half eaten food aside.
I shook my head.
“My parents were not happy, they fought, always. My father cheated on my mother, and when he was home, he abused her. When he got tired of hitting her he’d come looking for me. I got over it, and eventually I left. I found a home with those gangs, and they made me feel safer and more loved than I ever had at home.”
I sat forward with my elbows on my knees.
“There was never violence at the houses where we stayed, no matter what happened on the street, that’s where it stayed. We always had food, we always had happy homes.”
I paused again, taking a few more bites while I gathered my thoughts.
“My parents found me when I was fifteen, and they wrote me off. Those two hypocrites told me how disappointed they were in me, and what I’d become. I never heard from them again or tried to look for them either.” I looked at her. “My uncle, Andy, he kept writing to me no matter what I had done, and no matter who I associated with, he never judged me. He got me to go to high school, and he sorted me out. God only knows how he kept track of me, but he did. He kind of encouraged me to join the military, and I needed it.”
Annabelle crossed the piece of floor between us and knelt in front of me.
“Nobody has the right to judge you for what you went through or what you did because of the house you grew up in Michel. You are a different person now, and that is what matters.”
She took my hands in hers and kissed them one at a time. I pulled her up onto my lap, holding her close.
“Very few people would be as un-judging as you Annabelle. The only other stuff in my past that’s bad is the shit that happened in Afghanistan, and the drug issues I had when I got home. I have been trying to stay away from anything like that for a while now, and managed well. Having you in my life helps me. You make me feel stronger.”
I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her at that moment, she had tears shining in her eyes, and I didn’t want to see pity there. I said so too.
“Anna, promise me you’re not going to play the pity-party hostess please. I hate pity, and I can’t handle the thought of seeing it in your eyes every time you look at me.”
She suddenly pulled away from me.
“Michel, pity is the last thing you’ll get from me. Yes, life sucked when you were a kid, and it threw some horrible crap your way, but you survived. You had an uncle who loved you enough to find you no matter what, and who has given you the means to make up for what you feel you did wrong years ago if you so desire. Everything you went through, both long ago, and more recently, has broken you a bit, but it’s also left you stronger in many ways. I love you no matter what, and I am glad you told me about these things. Thank you.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck, and we sat there, engulfed in each other’s comforting warmth.
I really didn’t want to answer my phone when it rang, but had to, it might have been her dad, or something important, so I stood to get it. Instead it was the manager, or I guess supervisor at the marina where I kept the Mary Jane.
“Mr. Deverroux? It’s David, from the marina, have you got a minute?” He asked.
“Yes?”
The man barely hesitated before getting into his clearly planned speech.
“The Mary Jane was really severely damaged in the storm and I don’t think she’s salvageable. We have taken her out of the water to prevent her from sinking completely, she has a massive hole in her hull where she impacted the dockside. I personally recommend you scrap her and buy a new boat, it will cost you more to repair her than to take that option.”
When he finally stopped I got a moment to answer.
“Thanks David, I will come by tomorrow and sort out details, and we can discuss options then.”
I put the phone down, and had a proper ‘aha’ moment there.
“Annabelle, I think I know how I’m going to occupy my time for a good few months.”
I looked at her where she sat curled in a small ball on the couch.
“What are you going to do?”
She was smiling, I think I had the facial expression of a slightly insane person on my face. I laughed and sat down next to her.
“Well, my boat was damaged badly in the storm, and it will, according to the guy down at the marina, cost more to fix it than to buy a new one. I want to build my own boat, a small yacht. Wooden hulled yacht.”
She chuckled.
“Do you know anything about boat building?”
“No, but I know you can buy kits with plans and all the timbers and bits and pieces. All I would need to do is follow a plan, and I am good with my hands. The sails one can order online, and I can do it in the backyard.”
I saw a look cross her face that I could not discern, and then a second later it was gone.
“I think that’s a good idea then Michel, it will keep you nice and busy. I need to arrange to get to the shops tomorrow to replace some clothing. I have nothing but that which I wore here, until we can salvage stuff from the house, if we can.”
I suggested we do a joint trip, I needed to stop at the marina and then I could take her shopping. So our plans for the following day were made.
When I saw the Mary Jane the next morning I understood why it would cost almost more to fix her than to buy a new boat of the same type. There was a hole in her bow that made it look as though she had crashed into the corner of a cliff. Apparently she had ended up thrown against the mooring point on the pier, and the soft fibreglass of her hull had torn like paper. It now hung in limp tatters where it was damaged, and I watched as Annab
elle ran her fingers over the area just below the tear.
“Be careful of splinters Anna.”
She quickly nodded and pulled her fingers away. David stood by my side, and I knew my mind was already made up, it probably had been the moment I had thought of building a boat. It was impulsive, but it would keep my hands and my mind busy.
“David, scrap her. There are no personal effects on board, get rid of her as is,” I said.
And with that Annabelle and I walked hand in hand back to the car and drove into Galveston to go shopping for her.
We managed to get her a few sets of work clothing, and replaced her lost toiletries, shoes and other basic necessities. She severely struggled with letting me pay for things, but it was something I insisted on.
“Just let me do this for you, I can, easily.”
I dragged her off to go have lunch when we were done. I was tired of shopping, and starving to boot. We sat down in a booth in one of the older diners in town, one of those places you see in movies like ‘Grease’ where you can almost picture John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John walking through the door in those 1950’s outfits.
And true as heavens, our waitress had a pinafore dress and apron as uniform, red curly hair under a cap, and white sneakers. We ordered milkshakes, burgers and chips, and ate until we felt like we might pop. Anna took my hand afterward and we walked down to the Moody Gardens, one of the most ‘touristy’ places in Galveston.
We ambled through the aquarium staring at the fish, walked through their underwater tunnel as the sharks swam overhead, and watched a penguin show. It was wonderfully domestic and relaxing, and felt like the kind of thing normal people would do.
“I like this, spending time with you, just doing ordinary things,” she said as we stood watching a manta ray circle lazily to eat.
“I like it too Annabelle, I was going to assume we would choose a house or buy one after we got married, but where are you planning on staying now? Would you consider just moving in with me? I mean, before we got married?”
I stuttered and fell over my own words, but they did come out eventually.
She turned to face me and smiled.
“I’d love to, and you’re probably getting an easy deal, I come with no baggage! I literally own nothing.”
She giggled and we carried on strolling, stopping for ice cream before heading home much later.
13
She stood in front of the three angled mirrors and turned so that she could see her reflection from all angles. She put her hands at her waist and looked at the gown she had on. It was snowy white, had fitted cap-sleeves and a beaded bodice that came down into her waist with a tulle skirt, flouncy and light.
“Daddy, what do you think?” She asked, turning around.
He sat forward and looked intently.
“Sweet pea, it looks beautiful, and you look like a princess, isn’t it a bit too, um, big, for a beach reception though?”
Annabelle started giggling.
“You’re right, I wanted to try on at least one big dress though.”
She picked up the skirt and started walking back to the change room where the assistant waited for her. She tried on about seven before she got to the one dress that made her dad clamp his hands over his mouth when she came walking out of the change room. When Annabelle stopped and turned to face the mirrors, a tear ran down her cheek as the assistant moved around her adjusting the skirts. From behind her she heard her father swallow back tears.
“Baby girl, I wish your mom was here to see you, you look so breath taking.”
Anna didn’t want to cry, and wiped at her cheeks now with the tissues handed to her by the assistant.
“Dad, this is the one, this is my wedding dress.”
The dress she had on fit like a glove, a soft ivory at the top, and a deep coffee color right at the bottom. In the front, spaghetti straps sat in a ‘V’ over each shoulder and the neckline plunged to sit low between her breasts. The bodice was a heavy beaded fabric, glittering with crystals. The beading got lighter as one’s gaze moved lower, and the skirts fell at her feet as a pool of chiffon and tulle. The layers were all cut at different lengths, giving an illusion of movement even when she stood still. At the back the dress was completely open down to the curve of her lower back, with the thin straps criss-crossing her pale skin.
Annabelle did a little twirl, and after staring for several minutes at her reflection, knowing it was an unconventional dress, she still knew it was the one. She went to take it off and slip back into her sundress she had arrived in. After they paid, with Annabelle trying hard not to think about how much she was spending on one piece of clothing, she took her dad out for coffee.
***
I held the nail steady as I picked up the hammer to send it firmly into the wood. When that was done I ran the palm of my hand over the smoothly curved surface and looked from the bow to the stern of the thirty three foot yacht that sat upside down on the stand in my backyard. It seemed like I hadn’t gotten much done in the three months since I decided to build my own boat, but I looked up at the roof that I also had constructed for the work. It was almost a barn with no sides; I didn’t want the wood to get wet. This had become my happy place since the kit I ordered from GLEN-I yachts arrived.
Annabelle was off dress shopping and had taken her father with her to let him share in something special, something that would have been an event shared with her mother… but couldn’t be. I stopped working for a moment and simply stood looking out past the house and out to sea, it was the perfect day. The afternoon sun sent rays down onto the lake-flat water through wispy clouds and there wasn’t even a breeze moving the sweet smelling air. I had a jasmine vine on the property that Annabelle had planted when she’d moved in and its flowers were just opening, perfuming the air with its heady scent.
I had now finished doing the actual building of the shell that would be the hull, and needed to sand it down before continuing with internal structures when I turned it over. I was doing everything by hand, and by the time Annabelle drove back down the driveway my shirt clung to my back and my arms ached from the consistent exertion.
She came walking up to me with a serene smile on her face, her hair trailing out behind her. Without being put-off by my sweaty state, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.
“I found the perfect dress.”
“Well hello to you too beautiful,” I said, my face buried in her hair.
She nuzzled me, “Hello you sweaty, smelly, hard-working boat builder. Come inside, let’s go shower.”
She stepped away and took my hand, pulling me toward the house.
“I think I need to get you a little sweaty and saw-dusty yourself first, future wife of mine.”
I lifted her onto my work bench with my hands around her waist, and noted that I had indeed guessed the height perfectly when I built it. Her dress surrendered easily as I slid it up her thighs, her skin silky soft under my rough and newly calloused fingers.
“Your hands have gotten so rough Mich,” she moaned against my lips.
She lifted her hips so that her panties could come off easily, and I took them, inhaled her scent off them, then stuffed them into my back pocket.
“Did you just sniff my panties?” She giggled.
I nodded, “And you smell divine.”
She reached down to undo the buckle of my belt, and then her fingers were at my zipper, releasing it oh so torturously slowly, one catch at a time. She buried her face in my neck and I felt her sharp little teeth nip at the skin over my collarbone and downward. I closed my eyes and shivered at the feel of her warm fingers encircling me, pulling my cock free of the constraints of my jeans and briefs. She massaged me, and I felt the workbench tilt as she shifted forward.
“I want you Anna, I want to be inside you.”
I let my hands slip down to her hips and took a step closer, she was so wet I slid easily into her, and the position she was in made for such a tight squeeze I dropped my hea
d onto hers as I pushed all the way into her soft warm sex. She reached her arms around me and for a moment we simply held each other like that. When we started moving again it was slow, and with my thrusts she tilted her hips to accommodate me more comfortably.
With total abandon, she eventually leaned backward, placing her hands behind her and wrapping her legs around my waist. I watched her chest rise and fall and grasped her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. Thinking again, I undid the buttons there, pulling the material open to reveal her pale skin. Annabelle groaned under my hands as I teased her rosy nipples, pulling and pinching gently. She giggled when I tickled her ribs by running my fingers lightly across her skin. I gripped her tightly and thrust hard, her giggles cut off and changing to moans. She dropped her head back and gasped, her breathing changed and her chest flushed pink and then she cried out my name.